5759

The holidays are over. They were interesting. Rosh Hashanah was packed day one; there were about 30 people for the second day. Yom Kippur was full.

For Kol Nidre I read a story in lieu of a sermon. At Shacharit I gave a sermon on communal responsibility. It went wonderfully. (Thank you Rabbi Lebeau for your teaching on eye contact.) For a short time, Sean and I could do no wrong in the eyes of the congregation. For Sukkot and Simchat Torah there was no minyan, a huge disappointment, but at eight or nine people, we're told that's a crowd.

Foi, a Hawaiian woman who never misses a service filled us in. With the last rabbi, it was often just him and Foi. (A note on Foi: she's one of the non-Jews in the congregation, but she follows and never misses a service. Turns out her father was Jewish. Clearly he taught her. She wants to convert. I wonder, "why now?")

The old doctor is Dr. P.. He seems terribly bitter. His wife died 15 years ago, but he doesn't seem to be over her. He is in his eighties. Eight years ago he was forced out of his job at Tripler Army Hospital. Now he volunteers, but all he's allowed to do is hand out medication at the pharmacy. Why do we demean our elderly in this way? But there's hope. After our two months here, Dr. P. smiled Friday night. He has a great, kindly smile.

Still In 1998

Naval Station could not wait to get Sean started. One week in our lovely hotel, then, thank God, we were moving into our new home. All our things and our car had arrived [after their trip through the Panama Canal]. It was Wednesday/Thursday movers and Friday- our first night at the Aloha Jewish Chapel, but as guests, an opportunity to observe a service. It was almost completely in English [They'd been functioning without a chaplain for some time.], but pretty full. Unfortunately only Friday night. The kitchen was usually dairy, but we knew there had been a treyf affair held during the summer. Well, things to set right.

The following Friday, Sean's first a rabbi, we were greeted by the incoming president of the Women's Guild and presented with leis. Sean converted most of the English back to Hebrew with not a single complaint. Most even enjoyed Jesse's antics as he ran up and down the aisles yelling "Torah, Torah" or "Amen." So when is the other shoe going to fall?

[Aloha Jewish Chapel is a community made up of active duty military from all branches, Department of Defense personnel, many military retirees, many Island residents who prefer it, and the occasional tourist. Because of the major presence on the island of the first four groups, it is a stable community even through the many transitions.]

September 8, 1998

We've been here almost three weeks, and we're finally getting into a routine. Sean's job is very eclectic: submarine visits, daily meetings with the Commodore, brig visits, plus being the only military rabbi in the area.  He's the show to be seen.

For me- I'm Mom. Jesse is happy, and we've made a friend, but some day care is definitely called for. [Jesse was active in utero.  His ability to move, to talk, and to surprise still amazes me today.]

Tonight was Sean's first ritual committee meeting. It was also Aloha Jewish Chapel's (AJC) first ritual committee meeting. The meeting was greeted with enthusiasm, and of course fire over the kashrut issue. I think the highlight of the meeting was an elderly doctor who stood and spoke with righteous indignation. [He had of course met Sean twice.] "I have a comment," he said, producting a list from his pocket. "First, I'm twice, if not three times your age. You've got no place coming in and making all these changes. The kashrus of the kitchen is just fine." He went on until, "Finally, when are you going to start doing services in your uniform?!"

AJC has many congregants from outside the active duty military; most are retires military, like the doctor. Still, he speaks from a different time. We did learn a valuable lesson though. Here, on Oahu, in place of shirt and tie, men were aloha shirts. When Sean thought he was dressing up for the congregation, he was actually dressing down.

Next month's meeting will focus on the final kashrut decision and the mikveh. [AJC, like many other isolated Jewish military chapels, has a mikveh built off the sanctuary, an odd spot. It has only one bor, and collects rainwater, but unfortunately no overflow valve. Upon our arrival, it was being used to store chairs.] I hope to attend as the resident expert.

AJC is interesting. They've hated their last three rabbis. Bouncing from one denomination to another, halakhic needs seem whims to them. [Denomination is set by decision of the current chaplain serving. AJC had gone from Conservative to Reform to Orthodox. Each chaplain deciding without care as to what came before.] Most of the members are ignorant. We are living in the midbar and the amei ha'aretz are wandering and murmuring at every turn. Sean is like Moshe himself, and I feel like Miriam, at least my view of Miriam, the silent partner upon whom Moshe leans heavily, the confident support, the strong shoulder, listening ear, teacher, and partner.

Catching Up

There are dozens of diary entries to add to this blog. We were three years in Hawaii, followed by North Carolina and 9/11. But tonight it's time for sleep. It's 12:10 AM. I should be tired, exhausted actually, but I don't sleep when Sean is away. I wake multiple times, never settling into that deep, restful sleep. Still, I will try.

We're breakfasting with Sean later this morning. It's strange with iChat or Skype. Sean is gone, and yet somehow present. We say goodbye over and over. We share our days through email, but still I don't sleep. His presence is both felt and missing. I don't know if it's better or worse than his just being gone. It's simply different.

Now I Know Where God Lives

Sunrise

Slowly the clouds are illuminated

Their edges tinged with gold

Growing brighter and brighter, streaks of pinky orange

Fingers reach out, straining upwards into the fog blanketing the mountains until suddenly

There it is-

Pure, unadulterated fire

Liquid sun burns through, appearing to waiver as hot blue to the naked eye.

And then, in the blink of an eye, it bursts out in a fiery ball of liquid light as pure as on the day it was created, filling the clear blue sky, bathing the island in glory.

That morning is as clear in my memory as yesterday (perhaps clearer than yesterday). We had stayed for Shabbat in Los Angeles with friends, Rabbi Michael and Dr. Elissa Beals. We arrived in Honolulu late at night to a crowd of greeters from the Aloha Jewish Chapel, and our driver to our hotel. I was right about needing that Jewish Center, and Sean and I were the ones to create it. The trade winds were blowing, and it was cool when we arrived. We checked into our hotel and collapsed. Sean and I awoke before sunrise, jet-lagged. Not wanting to wake Jesse, we sat together on the balcony wrapped in a blanket. When the sun had risen, Sean said to me, "Now I know where God lives." It was a feeling we had many times on the Islands. Hawaii gets under your skin and becomes part of you. Hawaiian for a white person is haole. It means foreigner. The native Hawaiians are kama'aina, people of the land. As residents, according to the state of Hawaii, we also got to be kama'aina, and it stays with us until today.

Beginnings

My diary as a Navy wife begins...

August 21, 1998

Growing up on Long Island, it never occurred to me I'd live outside the northeast. I moved from ghetto to ghetto- Merrick, NY to Brandeis University to the University of Judaism, to Jerusalem to the Jewish Theological Seminary- ghetto to ghetto to ghetto to ghetto. I always believed that to live fulfilled as a Jew one must live in a community, for that one needs a Jewish center, even a small one.

It had been Sean's plan to enter the chaplaincy from the very start. Still, places like Okinawa [I guess this was prophecy] and Pearl Harbor seemed unreal. Throughout rabbinical school I joked that I would only follow Sean into the Navy if our duty station was exotic or had good kosher Chinese food available. Remembering this, my parents took us to Cho-Sen Island just hours before we left. I carried the left overs into our new life.

I kept thinking, "One of these things is not like the others. One of these things just doesn't belong"- Merrick, NY, Brandeis University, Jersalem, Israel, JTS, and Pearl Harbor, Hawaii. In the days before our move so many friends and family members came to say goodbye. Hawaii was so far and seemed so foreign. "Are you excited? Nervous?" They all asked. But after a two month hiatus from having our own home, the answer was neither. We just couldn't wait to have our own things back and to be in our own place. Unfortunately, we simply didn't know where that place would be.

Once in Hawaii we'd be staying in a hotel chosen for its proximity to the zoo and aquarium for Jesse. Our thoughts actually focused on the disaster a flight with a 17 month old baby can turn into. The day of our flight we kept Jesse awake and active hoping for some quiet time on the plane. In the hours before our fears mounted as, instead of a nice family dinner, we each took a turn walking in the rain with him outside the restaurant. We arrived at Kennedy Airport only 20 minutes before our flight [wow- see what you could do pre- 9/11]. A blur of quick diaper changes and checking the stroller followed, but Jesse sat quietly almost two and a half hours as our plane sat on the tarmac awaiting the take off. Once in the air he walked from New York to Los Angeles, falling asleep only fifteen minutes before landing.