The December Dilemma

A few days ago, I read a comment made by the creator of "Mensch on a Bench." He said he was "inspired by his son's elf envy." There are FB posts and articles about people feeling left out at this time of year.

It's so sad that people feel left out. But I wonder, are they so empty of their own traditions and confused in their beliefs that they need to observe someone else's? And why not look to one's own traditions for fulfillment? Juxtapose this to Keren messaging with friends a few weeks ago. She was sharing that Christmas was unimportant to her. Yes, she pulled out that old fall-back, "Hanukah lasts eight days, and I get presents every day." This has never been true for her. We open all the presents the first night. The next seven are just about the holiday, that is eating lots of fried food and enjoying time with friends and family. I called her on this. She just shrugged, and changed tactics. "We have a holiday every month," she typed. Then, with a gleeful look in her eye, she listed them: Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur ("Okay, that one's not fun, except for break fast which is great!") Sukkot ("We get to build and decorate a whole building in the yard!") Hanukah, Tu B'Shevat, Purim, Passover ("That's my favorite.") Shavuot, Yom Ha'atzmaut, Yom Hazikaron and Yom Hashoah, Yom Yerushalayim (I think she went a bit far here), 17 Tammuz, 9 Av ("Those aren't so good.) Tu B'Av, and the entire month of Elul ("which is all about getting ready to celebrate the new year.")

There is a point in every parent's life when s/he must explain to a child that "This is Stacey's birthday party. Those are Stacey's presents. In a couple of months it was be your birthday. Then you will have a party and get your own presents." Why can't we do his with traditions and holidays. Just say, "This is Stacey's holiday. Soon it will be Purim. Purim is our holiday. We'll bake hamentaschen. You'll pick your costume. We'll go hear the megillah, deliver mishloach manot, and have a Purim seudah. Then, a month later, we'll be celebrating Pesach."

Love what you have. There's great beauty in every tradition. Embrace it. If you do, then there will be no dilemma.

We'll be eating take-out and watching the Dr. Who marathon on BBCA.  Happy (insert holiday here) to you!

Merry Christmas to All, and to All a Good Night

Today is Christmas. I've been humming the Carol of the Bells. I'm walking around around with a Chinese takeout menu. I've eaten take out (actually deli. Chinese is being saved for another day.) I'm watching Dr. Who Christmas specials in a Dr. Who marathon. I'm eating peppermint Hershey's kisses.

I love Christmas. I love Christmas everywhere, but especially in New York. I love the way New Yorkers change. They make eye contact, and smile at strangers. They slow down a bit. I love the windows in the stores and the tree at Rockefeller Center. I love when there's a white Christmas. I love Christmas movies. I've been looking for "A Christmas Carol" all day, but it's hard to get the remote away from by children, who are watching Dr. Who.

I love how everyone, no matter what religion, critiques the tackiness of the decorations in the neighborhood. My aunt's neighbor has a pile of presents in the front yard. During the day they are lovely, but at night they light up, and are a bit over the top. (Okay, a whole lot more than a bit.)

I have my own Christmas traditions that include eating things I shouldn't- candy canes (I'll get there), egg nog (waiting in my fridge at home), chocolate (done), and Chinese food (tomorrow). Whatever your traditions, enjoy them.

Merry Christmas to all, and a happy and healthy New Year. Let us pray for peace.

Language & Regional Differences

I have been blessed to live in a number of different places, and to travel to even more. I was well aware, from early on, that not everyone was like me. Those difference were often more regional than related to religion, race, gender, etcetera. At college I lived with an Italian Catholic from New York. With the exception of insisting that I get up at an ungodly hour to decorate a Christmas tree the day after Thanksgiving, we were very much alike- in attitude, dialect, and body language.

In the last 6 months we've done quite a bit of traveling. I have been in Jerusalem, Tel Aviv, Muskoka, Virginia, New Jersey, Ottawa, and Toronto. I've visited at least 31 States in the US, plus Washington DC. If I take a dialect quiz, I am most like New York, NY, and least like Akron, OH. Born and bred New Yorker that's me. Still, I've picked up bits and pieces from many friends and acquaintances over the years. I say "y'all" for second person plural. Unfortunately I use it incorrectly. "Y'all" can refer to one person, as in, "Y'all want to come over for a cuppa tea?" I can't head south, listen to too much British TV, or go to Israel without it affecting my accent.

Still, no matter where I go the differences from home are noticed. In Texas everyone called me "hon." In New York that could get you slapped. In North Carolina I was "Ma'am." In Hawaii I was "Auntie." These titles came not from people I knew, but from strangers. Only in New York do strangers get my father's weird joking. For example: the owner of a local deli bringing my father coffee (pronounced  caw-fee), "Watch out. This is very hot." My father- "Oh good. If you spill it on me I'll sue." Owner- "I don't have any insurance." Hahaha. This is not actually funny, but in the moment it somehow is. In Texas everyone was nice, and willing to share their guns. (Okay, it was the one guy, but it's still strange to wear a holster to shul.) In North Carolina, people make all their turns at right angles and very, very, very (did I mention very) slowly. In New York, people are friendly and happy to help you, but they're moving so fast, and they don't make eye contact, so how would you know?

Toronto's multicultural nature suits me. I feel at home, but can enjoy everyone else too. And when I'm back in New York, with its bigger than life, over-whelming New York-ness, I can appreciate when I get to go home too.

Vayigash- From Out of the Darkness

Dabeir aleihem ko-amar Adonai Ehlohim hinei ani lokei’ach et-eitz Yoseif asher b’yad-Efrayim v’shivtei Yisrael chaveirav v’natati otam alav et-eitz Y’hudah va’asitim l’eitz echad v’hayu echad b’yadi.

Say to them, “Thus says Adonai God, ‘Behold I will take the tree of Joseph that is in the hand of Ephraim and the tribes of Israel, his companions, and I will put them together with the tree of Judah, and I will make them one tree, and they will be one tree in my hand.’” (Ezekiel 37:19)

In Egypt, Judah becomes the force behind the reunion with Joseph. As Benjamin is to be taken from them, Judah steps forward, emotionally pleading with the disguised Joseph to keep what is left of his family together. However, Joseph reveals that it was God’s plan behind their split, “Ki l’michya sh’lachani Elohim lifneikhem.” “For God sent me before you to preserve life.”

The Haftarah for Vayigash is attributed to Ezekiel, who was part of the Babylonian exile. His vision sees a reunification of the tribes of Israel. Just as in our parasha, the tribe of Joseph has been separated from the Judah. Like Joseph he was torn from his home in painful circumstances. His vision seeks to understand and provide a context for his suffering and the suffering of our people.

It’s a difficult idea- that everything happens for a reason. We know this not always to be true. Bad things happen to good people. Suffering does not always serve a purpose. What we can learn from Ezekiel’s research is an eternal optimism. Jews have always been ready to move. We have been forced from so many countries, and endured such horrors, that, when difficulties arise, we can no longer afford to sit back and wait for them to pass. Instead we are ready to mobilize. Some would say that this makes us a pessimistic people, controlled by fear from the past. I prefer to see it as that eternal optimism. Even in the shadow of the Babylonian exile, Ezekiel looked toward a better time. Jews had been spread throughout the Babylonian Empire. We had lost our country and our unity. Somehow in that horrible time we built a new religion. Our leaders looked past the confines of the destroyed Temple to see our homes as the new focus. They built synagogues and the great yeshivot, out of which came the Mishnah and Babylonian Talmud, the foundation for our modern Judaism. They were not immobilized by fear. They were mobilized with hope.

Our darkest times have obviously produced our darkest memories, memories that are burned into our collective consciousness. They have also produced our shining stars and our heroes. We should always remember that.

Miketz- Forgiveness is Not Forgetting

Ul’Yoseif yulad shnei vanim b’terem tavo shnat hara’av asher yaldah-lo Asnat bat-Poti Fara kohein On. Vayikra Yoseif et-sheim ha’b’khor M’nasheh ki-nashani Elohim et-kol-amali v’et kol-beit avi. V’et sheim hasheini kara Efrayim ki-hif’rani Elohim b’eretz anyi.

And Joseph bore two sons in the year before the famine arrived that Asnat, daughter of Poti Fara, priest of On, bore to him. And he called the name of the oldest Menasheh, because Elohim made me forget all my toil and all my father’s house. And the second he called Ephraim, because Elohim has made me fruitful in the land of my affliction. (Breishit 41:50-52)

Joseph’s experiences in Egypt are interesting. He arrives as a slave, seemingly the lowest of the low. Bought by Potiphar, he quickly rises to a privileged state in his household; only to be thrown even lower than when he arrived by unfounded accusations made by Potiphar’s wife. In jail he again rises to favoured status, not only among the prisoners, but among the guards as well. When Pharaoh’s butler leaves the jail, Joseph seems forgotten. Then come Pharaoh’s dreams, and Joseph finds himself in royal attire, wearing Pharaoh’s own ring. In all this he acquires a wife and has two sons.

Joseph’s story in Egypt seems the stuff of epic fairytales. He has gone from being hated brother and a slave to Pharaoh’s right hand. Under his administration so much grain is collected for Egypt that he stops counting. He is blessed in Egypt. So much so that Joseph says, “I have forgotten my toil and my father’s house.”

Joseph has always been praised for his righteousness in realizing his tribulations were necessary. He was able to perceive a purpose for his suffering. How is it then that he could “forget his father’s house?” I believe this forgetting was what allowed him to discern the need in the negative. It’s not that he truly forgot. It’s that he forgave. He forgot the hurt and the anger, the frustration and the envy, not the familial connection or obligations. Perhaps he forgot the haughty attitude that he was meant for more, and instead recognized he was no better than others. Whatever it is, Joseph remains connected. His children bear Hebrew names. Although he leads Egypt just under Pharaoh, he recognizes that he is still a slave. While blessed, he is still in the “land of my affliction.”

Joseph’s righteousness comes from his ability to put his past behind him. He is blessed in his ability to pull himself out of the depths, and to recognize blessing even within the suffering he must bear. May we all be blessed with the gift of perspective.