Talking with our hands

Israelis are known for talking with their hands. Observe any curbside exchange from the window of a passing bus, and you quickly measure the temperature and intensity of the sharing. One weekday afternoon when I was immersed in my Talmud learning at the Kotel, I noticed an elderly gentleman struggling to wave people over to assemble a minyan of for Mincha. I had not planned on interrupting my learning was feeling sure he would soon have his minyan - since minyanim consistently assemble every few minutes at the Kotel, and dozens of minyanim had convened in the hour that I had been attending to my learning that afternoon. For some reason he was growing desperate, still short of 10, so I rose from where I had been learning to join him. Perhaps he was in a rush, I thought, so now was as good a time as any for me to pray Mincha.

I shall not soon forget what turned out to be an uncommonly moving weekday Mincha service. There was an intensity about this gentleman’s davening – manifested in his shaking his hands heavenward every time he intoned the word Attah (“You”/”God”) in his repetition of the Amidah. He was talking to God with his hands. The works of God’s hands fill our world – cosmic and personal. How fitting that this earnest gentleman taught me one way to return the favor.

Where questions yield dead ends

Visiting with Danny Gordis at the Shalem Center, I learned of how his former friendships with moderate Palestinians had disintegrated time and again.  Loss had displaced hope.  “When we made Aliyah 9 years ago, we were going to be different.  We were going to forge bonds and build friendships with our Arab neighbors.  We were going to truly commit to listening, to learning of their plight, to sharing in their dreams.  Yet, in the past couple of years, we have witnessed one friendship after another end.  How does a friendship fail?  When I would ask a question like:  My family moved to Israel because we deeply believe in existence of a national homeland for our people, can you appreciate that this matters to us?   Implicit in my question is a commitment to Israel’s continued existence.  Yet, simply posing such a question to a friend in whose home we had share so much over the years was greeted with cold silence, no reply whatsoever, making her a former friend.”

Our Pesah seder, the telling of our people’s founding story, champions questions.  Four children are characterized entirely by their questions.  In the very word “question” we find the word “quest”, suggesting a journey to unchartered vistas of meaning and learning.  Where questions yield dead ends is the “homeland of tragedy, exile, and estrangement.”

One word

As Netanyanu was leaving the stage following his address to the Herzliya Conference, someone in the audience shouted: “How about one word on Gilad Shalit?” Bibi’s response “l’hachaziro” one Hebrew word that means “return him home.”  One word, like “peace”, “settlement”, “Zion”, can be highly loaded with baggage and innuendo.  Occasionally, a word may speak a thousand pictures.  

Economic prophets

Benjamin Netanyahu suggested that two economic theories about what seems likely in the coming years.  One theory posited that a rebound would take the shape of a letter “U” once things had bottomed out.  Another possibility, less hopeful, would suggest a protracted period of stagnation, similar to the shape of the letter “L”.  “Heaven forbid,” Bibi said, “that the coming years would follow instead the shape of a “ל” (suggesting deeper decline would follow the stagnation of the “L”).   What seems clear – prophets fair better in appraising morality’s future than that of market forces.

Lofty souls

Encounters with individuals of real depth – Hasidic masters, NGO leaders, soup kitchen volunteers, and taxi drivers – quickly became a preoccupation in my first week.  Israeli culture is given to cause-adoption.  Virtually everybody is intoxicated with this or that religious, political, ideological cause.  Yet when you meet somebody who is able to bring a reflective, seasoned approach to the complexities of a cause, along with a passionate intensity to it, then you know that you have something to learn from wakeful meeting and listening. 

Reading Alex Singer’s book, Alex: Building a Life, has been one of the most significant ingredients in helping to make my Sabbatical as nourishing as it has been.  Alex was a person of true depth and glowing humanity.  As a Platoon Commander, he tells of Musa, a 43 Bedouin in his Platoon who didn’t know how to read or write. “What about Arabic?” I asked.  No, not Arabic either.  He says he has trouble with the public toilets where he doesn’t know which is the men’s room.”  Yet as a shepherd with a lifetime of experience as a tracker, Alex concludes about Musa, “he is teaching me a lot.” Someone who never learned to read or write and has trouble going to the bathroom, still has much to teach the wakeful student.

More than soldiers and rabbis

A presenter at the Herzliyah Conference shared the results of extensive research on  Americans’ (Jewish and non-Jewish) attitudes toward Israel.  “The two things that dominate impressions of virtually all Americans whenever they think about Israel” he said “are religion and military security.  So the average American in Oklahoma or Wyoming thinks that every Israeli is either a rabbi or a soldier.”  This evoked a raucous laughter from conference attendees.  Yet it did serve as a sobering reminder that so often we look at remote parts of the world uni-dimensionally.  Yet there is so much more to Mumbai than Slumdog Millonaire, to Afganistan than the Taliban, to Australia than the Koala bear.  My falafel dinner at Tel Aviv’s Dizengof square later that night featured Nightly News stories about irrigating the Negev, the week’s lottery winners, and the latest challenges at Ramat Gan neighborhood charter school, served to reinforce the multi-dimensional reality that daily life in Israel is, for the vast majority, far removed from the static fixations of those who have never experienced Israel.

Courage’s face

Meeting the Founder and Chairman of the Sudan Liberation Organization was an inspiration.  After having shared superficial handshakes with more political, military, and business leaders than I could count at the Herzliyah Conference, a meeting with three African NGO leaders was almost entirely accidental – and thoroughly fortuitous  They had come to seek support from Israel-friendly NGOs in their quest to seed democracy, grow hope, and offer refuge for the millions of displaced and desperate Sudanese in Darfur and its surroundings.  They cried when they saw my green “Not on our watch” Darfur wristband.   I cried when they conveyed how inspiring Israel (her exodus story, her democracy, her hope) has been to them.  Having been imprisoned dozens of times and having been kicked off of Al Jezeera for supporting Israel, their needs are so very great. I told them how much their heroism and courage inspires me, and I pledged my support. They thanked me and we embraced.   A most important beginning.

Flowing to and from God

God and human beings communicate primarily through words.  Sacred text insinuates God’s will, ways, designs, and dreams into our consciousness.  We, in kind, pray via sacred siddur passages.  But, just as communication happens ineffably, through deeds and other forms of expression, so too communication for non-human entities flows to and from God.  As photosynthesis is about a ‘give and take’ of elements, so too organisms of every variety respond to God in ways commensurate with the flow of sustenance from God to them.  Each morning’s opening blessing, affirms the way the rooster’s response to dawn awakens us to the symphony of nature’s flow to and from God.

Responsibility deficits

Breakfast with Stuart Schoffman was a treat – featuring a tour of the Shalom Hartman Institute, nourishing food for thought, and an introduction to the new Hartman Journal. Life and situations are always more nuanced and complex than they first appear. I have a thesis: rights-driven cultures cannot earn the dignity they deserve until they accept some degree of responsibility.  Stuart helped me realize that a person’s relationship with responsibilities may be complex.  Within the circle of her family and neighborhood, she may be highly responsible.  But when it comes to her tensions with a neighboring town, she may be obsessed 24/7 with rights exclusively.  This is good news.  Perhaps if enemies refuse to accept any responsibilities, this does not mean they can never begin to do so.  Their responsibility-deficit is not absolute.  Because it exists in some arenas of their lives, it may someday enter other arenas too.

Cosmic intimacy

Each morning, when we pray to God as Creator of the vast earth and ever-expanding heavens, we do so employing Divine attributes which are immanent, tender, and loving.  What might this suggest?  “God, we hold You in awe – not out of fear – but because of Your endless propensity to forgive.”

Redemption decisions

God’s deliverance is depicted by a mighty hand and outstretched arm.  Why not simply say mighty hand?  Wouldn’t that make the point of Divine supportive intervention sufficiently?  Perhaps the additional phrase outstretched arm holds deeper meaning.  Z’roa netuya in addition to being an outstretched arm can also be translated as an inclination to seed.  To be inclined to seed goodness, at any given time, in any given place, is how we live in God’s image.  At first glance, this anthropomorphic image seems historically remote.  Yet by this reading, the Image may be as near as our next (redemptive) decision.

When leads to Where

Asked how the Spinke Rebbe decides when to walk to the Kotel to daven and when to remain in Meah Shearim shtible, he said “I never know or plan in advance.  Wherever God sends me at that moment is where I go.” Perhaps this represents the ascendancy of when (openness to the present) over where (our next move). Spontaneity is central to being open to the potentially deep and lasting encounter.

M’chalkel Hayim B’hesed

Just as it is God’s way (biblically and today) to structure experiences wherein we teach ourselves life-lessons, the Kopitchenizter spoke earnestly of the task of a Rabbi to help people with certain talents interact with other people who have complimentary needs.  Be a shadhan (matchmaker) for Hesed moments among strangers.

Growing in soul

The Kopitchenitzer shared the Talmudic story of Yohanan ben Zakkai’s audience with the Roman emperor – at which he was granted his three requests (academy at Yavne, Davidic line, health)  The sages were troubled by something.  Why didn’t he ask in his three requests for the Temple to be restored?   The answer: wood (cedars of Lebanon of 1st Temple) and stones (Herod’s 2nd Temple) are less central to serving God than souls that can grow.  

Timing, timing, timing

The reason why the Talmud’s first question (about the timing of saying the Shema) is when, is because one never knows when a word, a work, an encounter or an experience is going to enter and establish residence in the inner life of an individual.  Central to the Talmud’s opening word for when, Ma’aimatai, is the aima, the reverent wonder than opens us up to connections with God’s content and causes.

Teach – Ma’aimatai

One of my more inspiring early visits came Sunday evening with the Kopitchenitzer Rebbe in the Haredi Jerusalem neighborhood (not far from Me’ah She’arim) of Ezrat Torah.  Susannah Heschel had made for me the shidduch with her cousin – an esteemed Hassidic figure whom I had arranged to meet for a few minutes following Maariv.  I had imagined a friendly greeting and 5-10 minutes of pleasantries, after which I’d be off and on my way.  Instead to my delight and ineffable nourishment, the Kopichenitzer kept me for some three hours – just the two of us – sharing,  learning, listening to his stories of how much he revered Professor Heschel. 

His humility, warmth, and genuine interest the ebb and flow of my rabbinate touched me deeply.  We pondered together the most compelling dimensions of Heschel’s work – an individual’s capacity to impact God in life’s supreme relationship.  He shared a mystical thought that resonated powerfully.  When we do good deeds, we materially sustain (m’farnes) God.  Emphasis is placed on material (rather than spiritual) sustenance to suggest something much deeper for God than spiritual dilation.  Perhaps the most salient epiphany for me related to the worthiness of my establishing a weekly text teaching at KI.

Jerusalem’s German Colony

Breakfast the next morning with Gil Hoffman, senior political editor for the Jerusalem Post, helped to put the elections in perspective.  “Look at the cars driving right now on Emek Refaim street,” he continued, “what don’t you see? Not a single bumper-sticker for any candidate.”  Perhaps because the campaign season was so short as a result of the Gaza war against Hamas, yet more likely Gil suggested it was a collective apathy.  Nothing is going to change no matter who wins.  So envious are Israelis of the Barak Obama phenomenon and the perception of a fresh leader.

The other dimension of this Jerusalem neighborhood and breakfast at Caffette, is that familiar faces appear at every turn.  That morning at Caffette alone, I bumped into five acquaintances and friends.  The German Colony pulsates with shops, cafes, and familiar faces – comfy for religious and secular alike.

Elections are coming

Saturday night I ventured into the center of the city to stumble upon a forum of candidates representing a dozen of the parties seeking office in the elections which were 10 days away.  Positions vary widely – one party for the annexation of Judea and Samaria, another for environmental consciousness.  Only in Israel is the Holocaust survivor party in favor of the legalization of marijuana.  Most fascinating was the unevenness – the disparity of quality in presentations and the fragility of people’s allegiances.  I personally witnessed an audience member change her mind on who she would vote for twice before the evening was out.  What gives rise to such fickle political loyalty?  It is surely not the impressive persuasive powers of the candidates – it appears to be the very opposite.

Shabbat in Meah She’arim

My first Shabbat was spent at the Spinke Hasidic Shteibel, in the heart of Meah She’arim, where I had occasion to daven and dine with the Rebbe back in the 1980s.  I was warmly welcomed and remembered by the eldest son of the Rebbe (himself now a grandfather to more than 50).  Following a spirited Shabbat morning davening, he invited me for lunch where I was greeted with graciousness and warm hospitality.  Indeed, his family could not have been more respectful – at one point he and his son-in-law, whose wife was had just delivered a newborn girl the night before, debated in Yiddish (the language in which all discourse was conducted except when they moved into Hebrew for my benefit) over who should lead Birkat HaMazon – the new father (ba’al simcha) or the honored guest (yours truly).  I insisted that the new father was more deserving. My experience with the Spinke Rebbe was profoundly nourishing.

A place to refurnish my inner life

My first Jerusalem destination was to visit a travel agent – to begin making arrangements for our family’s trips to Egypt and Jordan.  At a friend’s recommendation, I was able to track down Frances, a seasoned professional located downtown on Shammai Street.  After some pleasantries, Frances inquired about the nature of my stay in Israel this winter.  I told her I had come to “refurnish my inner life.”  Her response: “You came here to do that?  Most people I know leave Israel to renew themselves.”  My first day.  My first reminder than life in Israel can be difficult – yet so often the important things of life are difficult.

How does one refurnish an inner life?  For me it is by collecting experiences – experiences of meeting, listening, and learning.  What follows is an effort to catalogue a sampling of the more salient ones.

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