A Good Story & A Walk in the Rain

I've heard that when it's not a good experience it makes a good story.  I actually think the experience was okay (although not what we'd planned).

Every summer (for the past couple of years) we've gone to Shakespeare in High Park.  Sean thinks it's been 4 years.  He's wrong because in 2010 they did Romeo & Juliet, and we didn't see it.  We've seen A Winter's Tale, Midsummer Night's Dream, and this summer- Macbeth.  This year they're doing 2 plays, and so we headed down this evening to see the second play, Taming of the Shrew.  We arrived early to ensure a spot in line, bringing a Frisbee, books, sudoku, and food.  We were second in line.  The kids and Sean played Frisbee while we waited.  When the gate opened, we found great seats.  The weather was a bit humid, but no problem.  We enjoyed our picnic dinner.  However, throughout dinner the sky had started to darken.  Just as I was cleaning up, rain drops began to fall.  Quickly it changed from drizzle to rain to deluge. Jesse huddled under a plastic bag.  Keren huddled against Jesse.  Sean held the garbage bag over his head as Gavi tried to hide under him.  I sat in the middle quickly getting drenched, but enjoying my peach in the warm rain.  Rain doesn't necessarily mean a show cancellation, but lightening does.  When the first flash showed, followed by a quick burst of thunder, the ushers announced the show's cancellation and asked everyone to quickly and orderly move to the hilltop and out of the amphitheatre.  It seems it's a bad idea to sit in a large open, slightly elevated area, surrounded by tall metal poles with metal lights on them.  Oh well.

Luckily it was warm.  The kids and we plodded back to the car; turned on the heat, and headed home.  We were all laughing at how wet we were.  The only way we could have been wetter would have been to jump in a lake, even then I'm not sure.  Still, there's something really wonderful about a summer rainstorm.  Everyone should walk in one once in his/her lifetime.**

Instead of Taming of the Shrew, we watched Shakespeare in Love.  Gavi & Keren drank hot chocolate.  We quizzed Jesse and Gavi on which lines were quoted or mis-quoted, and from where, and on which actors he knew, and from where.  He did pretty well.

** The evening reminded me of one summer Shabbat while still at JTS.  My classmate, Dan Wolpe, and I went to David Kornberg's for Shabbat.  Shabbat afternoon it poured. Dan and I went for a walk.  Everyone else thought we were nuts, but we had the greatest time.  We sang (Singing in the Rain).  We walked.  We splashed and jumped.  Everyone should do that at least once every decade.  Warm rain during the day in a thing not to be missed.

The Difference Between Moms & Dads

With Gavi's injury Sean has been talking about the difference between moms and dads.  It started like this...

The day we came home from camp, not only was Gavi injured, but Keren & I were sick.  After unloading the car I lay down for a nap.  About 20 minutes in Gavi woke me asking if he could go to the store to look for something.  I said yes.  He asked if he could ride his bike (this after returning from x-ray just an hour earlier).  I said no.  Within five minutes I heard the garage door opening then closing.  About 15 minutes after that I heard it again.  "Gavi..." I called.  "Yes."  "Come here."  He walks into my room.  "Did you ride your bike?"  "Uh, no."  "Really?  Then why did I hear the garage, and why is your sling all screwed-up?"  "Uh....  Darn.  I could ride one handed, but I couldn't get on the bike."

Sean, while agreeing that he shouldn't ride was still proud of him.  He's proud that Gavi's willing to take chances; proud that he's willing to risk the pain, and even proud of the defiance.  Me, not so much, especially of the defiance.

We have a comic on our wall.  Kids are building a soapbox race car.  They have removed the car engine, and are lowering it to attach to the racer.  "What are you doing?" yells the frantic mother.  "What are you doing?" yells the frantic father; "A 4 cylinder won't even get up the driveway!"  It's a lot like us.

Tonight Gavi was cold.  He'd put on 8 layers of clothing (with some pain).  I made him get undressed to 1 layer, and put his sling back on.  Sean wanted to know why.  Because tomorrow morning he'll want to change, and no one will be around to help him.  I'm not sure Sean agrees.

Kitty Blog #20, by Gandalf the Grey

It's been so long since I've written.  I barely have any energy to type.  I hate my diet.  Can't the people see I'm wasting away.  I only weigh 17.6 pounds.  I'm a big cat.  I'm big-boned.  I need my food in a bowl, not this ball torture device they've put it in.  I heard them talking.  It's supposedly a skinny cat ball, but I know it's really a debasing cat ball.  It's so demeaning to have to push this thing around the house to get my food.  I tried dropping it down the steps hoping it would break open, but the darn thing is quality construction.  Worse even, it sometimes gets stuck under a piece of furniture where I can't fit.  Nora tries to hide her laughter, but I see her smug look every time she leaps gracefully to the perch with her food.

Then, last weekend, just to make things worse, there were 3 kids here who chased me the whole time they were here.  Really, just leave me alone.  I have claws and teeth!  And one of them kept moving my ball out of reach.  They all claimed not to, but it certainly didn't float to the couch, kitty tree, and doll house by itself.

Tonight I hid under the bed.  I was so depressed by that ball I didn't want anyone to see me.  I'll sneak out later when they're asleep to push it around.

Parashat Nitzavim-Vayelech: Torah for All

Ki hamitzvah hazot asher Anokhi m’tzav’kha hayom lo-nifleit hi mimkha v’lo-r’chokah hi. Lo bashamayim hi leimor mi ya’aleh-lanu hashamaima v’yikacheha lanu v’yashmi’einu otah v’na’asena. V’lo-mei’eiver layam hi leimor mi ya’avar-lanu el-eiver hayam v’yikacheha lanu v’yashmi’einu otah v’na’asena. Ki-karov eilekha hadavar m’od b’pikha uvilvavkha la’asoto.

For this commandment that I have commanded this day is not too wondrous for you, nor is it far from you. It is not in heaven that one would say, “Who will go up for us to heaven and bring it to us?” And it is not beyond the sea that one would say, “Who will cross the sea for us, and bring it to us and make us hear it so we will do it?” Rather, this thing is very close to you, in your mouth and in your heart, that you will do it. (D’varim 30:11-14)

The Torah is a wondrous thing, Judaism a unique religion. God has given us the mitzvot, and placed them completely in our hands. It is a unique thing in the ancient world. Most religions viewed their gods as beyond human understanding, their laws convoluted and changeable according to the whims of the god. The Torah is different. It is not a book of rules transmitted to us through a hierarchy. We need no intercessor to speak to God for us. Rather, it is assumed that every Jew, given knowledge and ability, will want to perform the mitzvot in order to bring holiness into our lives and bring us closer to God. In order to do this God and the mitzvot must be accessible to each of us.

Biblical and halakhic study is the purview of every Jew. We seek guidance from rabbis and scholars to set us on the path and to provide deeper insight into the many faces of the Torah, but it is a text available to all. The openness of our text, and our devotion to it as a people, has led us to be known in the world as the People of the Book. Books make knowledge accessible to all rather than a select few. Our Torah is not in heaven only to be studied and interpreted by scholars and rabbis. It is not kept far from us only to be available to the wealthy who can make the journey. Rather, Torah text belongs to us. We learn it with our first breaths. Even Jews who do not realize, are connected to our text and mitzvot. The Passover seder is one of the most widely observed rituals, even among the non-observant. The Jewish connection to education and learning is born out of this, an almost genetic, connection. It is a thing is very close to us, in our mouths and in hearts.

It is appropriate that we read this as we also ready to begin our reading of the Torah again. Our weekly services do not merely include a verse or three chosen for purpose. Through the year we read the entire Torah ensuring its availability to all. It is said there are shivim panim laTorah, seventy faces to the Torah. Each year as we reread our text, the Torah speaks to us differently. The text connects to us where we stand. Its meaning changes with as we change, and, with its adapting connection to us, so too do we draw closer to God. It is a reminder and a rejoinder for the coming year. May we all find our place in its words.

Parashat Ki Tavo- Sense Memory

V’hayah bayom asher ta’av’ru et-haYardein el ha’aretz asher-A’donai Elohekha notein lakh va’hvkeimota l’kha avanim g’dolim v’sad’ta basid. V’khatavta aleihen et-kol-div’rei haTorah hazot b’avrekha l’ma’an asher tavo el-ha’aretz asher-A’donai Elohekha notein l’kha eretz z’vat chalav ud’vash ka’asher diber A’donai elohei-avotekha lakh.

And it will be on the day that you cross over the Jordan to the land that A’donai you God gives you that you will establish for yourselves great stones and plaster them with plaster. And you will write upon them all the words of this Torah, when you pass over so that you may come into the land which A’donai your God gives to you, a land flowing with milk and honey like that which A’donai, the God of your ancestors, told you. (D’varim 27:2-3)

We all know the phrase “out of sight, out of mind.” Soon the Israelites are going to cross over the Jordan River into the land of Israel. Once there, they will spread yamah, v’kedmah, tzafonah, v’negbah, toward the west, the east, the north and the south, as God promised to Jacob so long before. They will no longer look to one leader, present everyday in their lives. They will no longer be witnessing God’s miraculous care for them each morning, and they will no longer see daily the cloud upon the mishkan. They need a monument to remind them. They need a sight that will inspire them as they enter the land so they can carry that memory with them to the far ends of the land. Like the obelisks of Egypt, or the great monuments of our day, this monument was to strike awe in the hearts and minds of the Israelites as they passed beneath it.

I am writing this from our week working at Camp Ramah. By the time you read this, our chanichim, campers, will have spread out to the west, east, north (maybe) and south. From Ramah Canada chanichim return to homes in Toronto, Montreal, Ottawa and points beyond. They return to Cleveland, Pittsburgh, and Detroit. They will no longer gather with friends every morning for t’fillot. Israeli music will no longer accompany their cleaning up from meals, and they will no longer be part of a multi-generational observant community living daily life together. Like Moshe, looking at the children of Israel standing on the shores of the Jordan, we too wonder how to make the impression that will carry our charges into the future with Torah to guide them. The final week at Ramah is spent ensuring that each and every chanich takes home, not only all his/her clothing and belongings, but also significant memories and lessons from the summer at camp. Many go home with actual items, tallitot, challah covers, or a hand-made yad to continue their observance of mitzvot at home. Others take lessons and memories. 

As the children of Israel pass by that amazing monolith inscribed with the words of the Torah, we hope their message is inscribed on their hearts and carried into the newly settled land of Israel. As our children pass through the arch of Camp Ramah into their future, so too we hope the message of mitzvah and Torah not only remains a part of their lives, but spreads yamah, v’kedmah, tzafonah, v’negbah.