Baruch Dayan Emet, Again

Where are you going, my little one?

H died last week by his own hand. He jumped into the path of a fast moving train. He was 19. Sweet, gentle, kind, heartful H.

Mangled body parts were strewn everywhere, some hundreds of feet away.

Blood covered the tracks and platform and stairway. People had to walk past the blood.

A body part hit someone standing 10 feet from him. I had no idea trains did so much damage. I thought that they would just smack you and throw you elsewhere, but he went under....

A lot of people saw it, felt it; a lot of people were traumatised.

I can't imagine what the family is going through. L and I spent warm and lively Shabbat dinners with him and his family where we always felt welcomed, wanted and cherished, by not only the adults, but by him and his siblings. That they have a whole Jewish community supporting them is a testament to their passionate commitment to Judaism and the Jewish community- a purely golden thread in the communal cloth. So, this is good.

Baruch Dayan Emet....even though he took his own life....there is a Plan, yes.

Many hundreds at his memorial service.

Several hundred at the Hillel service.

And yet, he's dead, just like LARabbi™ z"l. There was not a single person either felt that he could talk to. I think that the fact that LARabbi™ was his rabbi, too, and an influence, is not coincidental.

Students at his college are talking about his being "picked on", bullied all year, which makes me so angry. The whole thing makes me angry; unlike Rabbi, who had much life and experience under his belt, H was a child, with few learned coping skills. He was also small, nerdish, had an adenoidal voice- things that would make him a target for bullies. But in an ocean of students, how did they find him? And perhaps, that is only part of the story.

Why did he mine so inside himself that there was no way to ask for help? Why do they never seem to ask for help?

It doesn't get any better: 1 suicide, 2 suicides. A bullet list. You might get used to death, but never to suicide. It's a special kind of tearing that is permanent. It rends the fabric of the world and that trauma and horror lives with you forever. And the grief...of so much possibility lost, an entire universe.

I can't help but muse, having entertained thoughts of suicide most of my life (though not for several years now, since I discovered a good therapist, and a contemplative Jewish practice), why did I never take that final step? How were they different from me?

Watching H growing up, he reminded me of myself- highly intelligent, sensitive and yet emotionally fragile- my "excitable boy". He was a young man of deep feeling, and passion, and conviction. Idealistic. He was kind and gentle, all qualities dismissed or derogated by our society, but which are worth their weight in divine diamonds.

Yet unlike me at that age, he wasn't so self-absorbed, or seemed withdrawn, or moody. Perhaps it would have helped if he could have gotten in touch with that side of himself, sorted out the darker side , seen it. And I can't help but wonder if religion can kill, sometimes, when you're a young idealist... to try to live up to an image that isn't balanced with an acknowledgment and acceptance of your human frailties. In one so young, that balance is not expected. It would have helped if he had had someone to talk to, where he felt safe, secure.

Perhaps perhaps perhaps. With suicide there is only "perhaps", only supposition. You never find an answer, you never find closure, it can never become integrated into the fabric of your life and made into whole cloth.

I read the official eulogies for him and I'm not impressed. It was all about achievement and how he eagerly drove himself, whether it was academically, religiously, politically, or as a human being, to be successful. In the midst of this rush, where was H? What happened to H? He truly was blessed with great gifts, and given the climate of super-achievement, he was, indeed, a hurried child.

In the only place where he rested and where it mattered, I remember him with a heart too big for this world. And so, it need be broken.

I can't believe I am pronouncing this again, under similar circumstances: Good night, sweet prince. And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest. You were too good for this world. And that's the truth.

I Got Over The Jews

Update: April 30/08

My blog seems so depressing. Bad stuff always seems to happen to me and it kinda makes me look like a loser. Still, I consider this all a spiritual challenge and journey, so take it for what you will.

I did get that job, with Israelis, with fellow Jews. Last week. Who were humane, unlike my previous employers. I serendipitously got Shabbat off. They even told me yesterday what a rare gem I was as an employee. And then told me I was losing my job. They are closing the store. They've been looking for a buyer for several months. They did not tell me that in the interview, and now want to spin it as if they crunched numbers only this weekend and came to that decision. They refuse to acknowledge that they should have told me upfront in the interview (which is what I stated). I got played. Because of the timeline, and the state of my savings, I find myself on the precipice of welfare again.

This is the extent of their awareness: one owner told me that, yeah, it was not great for me, but he was sure I understood that is was far worse for them. I kept my mouth shut. He's been harping on that, trying to garner sympathy, actually, trying to relieve his guilt (how pathetic that the fact that he has the decency to feel guilty elevates him in my books). I know he would be argumentative trying to justify their bad judgment. But inside, I'm going, yeah, it's so hard for you, you took a risk and you have no head for business and dabbled, and you lost but you still have a job as a prof at the university, a home and family, while you just deprived me of my livelihood. Yet, I cannot say this.

This is my first close up encounter with secular Israelis in the diaspora. I have seen their liveliness and warmth when Israeli buds hang out in the shop. They know I'm a Jew. It's clear that they feel no such connection with fellow Jews. None. Thanks to the fundamentalist freaks that overshadow Israel for that. It is so sad.

I'm still in shock. Working out my week, and working out the clearance sale because I need the bucks. Wondering what G-d's purpose was in throwing me into this. Said owner is afraid that I will hold a grudge. I don't, though I am still pissed. Actually, I feel kinda sad when I am not feeling sorry for myself. Sad that they are so disconnected from their Jewishness, and sad that they don't get how their actions affect me; sad that they are, indeed, strangers in a strange land. It's like G-d wants to teach me the lesson of compassion through poverty. I just want to say, enough already!

But I also feel the love of fellow Jews. A huge shout out and scads of gratitude to eliyahu, to Shira, for leaving such support. To Norman who keeps me going in a rare email (after all, he's a hermit :)). To the stranger (DM) who left a tip in my tipjar. I never realised how much you all keep me going and assuage my rather painful and disappointing encounters with other Jews.

It will be interesting to see what happens next.


April 9/08

Hey, it's been a while.

I had to quit my job (not unhappily) cleaning houses, because of allergies and "hyperreactive airways". I haven't applied for unemployment insurance because I've become skittish of any government "program". I'm not saying it's bad, just that it's an ordeal to jump through the hoops. Been there, done that.

I have a lot to say about my latest wrangling and understanding of G-d, but given my ongoing financial situation, that telling hasn't been uppermost in my mind.

I went for a job interview today, thanks to the job counsellor at Jewish Family Services. No big deal, except for me the big deal is that they were Israelis. I mentioned JFS in my cover letter. With names like Ronit and Noa and Rafi, they were kinda self-evident. I imagined that they were secular. I was not wrong.

I think I've been sucked in by tales of Jews who help other Jews. Today I got over that. Where I live....one Jew helping another...well, you never know. I got over the Jews. In the sense, that, you keep trying, but you just never know. Community? My %&#.

Even so, I long endlessly for it. For the faith.

The Toilet and G-d and Miracles

Yeah, I'm alive and kicking. With bells and pomegranates on. And cleaning toilets. And feeling like I'm living through a miracle. Since I began cleaning houses I have often felt semi-comatose from exhaustion, so I have not been able to find the energy to write. Frankly, the stories about the Rabbis of the Talmud labouring all day and then studying Torah all night reek of the stuff of legend!

I have a gem of an apartment thanks to Jewish Family Services. And to G-d. It has given me much needed peace, and healing. Meanwhile, the holiday season is upon us. There is so much more for me to say but suffice it now to quote my words at Matzah and Marinara, on what it's like to be a convert and to experience Christmas:

I am a total sucker for Handel’s Messiah and have no problem with it. I do, however, have problems with other Xmas music. I love How the Grinch Stole Christmas, and think that we Jews are the Whos. It gets confusing.

I love Xmas trees. I miss them terribly. I love looking at them. But I do prefer Hanukkah lights to Xmas lights. Yet, I looooove Xmas lights!

Sigh.

I loved being in Israel around Xmas time. I didn’t miss anything remotely Christmassy. It was such a relief. Only Israel will save me, I suppose :).

And here is something I wrote a couple of days ago:

Miracles Freak Me Out

(Well, at least they don't creep me out. Unlike my experience yesterday, cleaning a defunct crack house in the richest part of town; where the carpet in one bedroom was replaced and the windows had been open for a week due to a decaying body. I was cleaning sprays of blood from needles from the walls of the bathrooms.
so

I won't go on....).

I am living in my little gem of an apartment thanks to the efforts on my behalf of Jewish Family Services. I am cleaning houses for an agency, which is why I haven't posted: exhaustion rules my days and paralyses my mind, right now. I am, however, very fit. JFS also found me a bed, and a bit of furniture. Damn, JFS and all those who think of me, make me proud to be a Jew. In fact, I said that very same thing for the JFS newsletter, using my real name cause I am so proud. And also so amazed to connect with living Torah, which means JFS and you.

So in this season of remembering miracles, I want to say that I feel that I am still living through a miracle, of which you have been no small part. And my most profound miracle, I think, has been my best friend, L, who sent, as always, 8 little gifts. And finally reminded me that I no longer need mourn old, pitch black memories at this time of year.

So, here's to miracles. They are real. As G-d is real.

Amein.

Pikuach Nefesh, Sukkot, Shelter & Home

To all who have shown such kindness to me and kept me going and in reality, along with my friends, kept me alive. I know that pikuach nefesh traditionally refers to violating commandments to save a life. Still, it also means saving a life, and you have saved my life.

Thanks to Jewish Family Services here I am in the midst of moving to my own apartment (with no furniture, but they are searching). I am on welfare, but I start a job for a housecleaning agency on October 8th. I may not have internet for a while. I have a lot to say.

Meantime, I want you to know that when I am settled, and with internet, I would like to thank each one of you personally. Whether it was words or money, you have kept me alive and going. Seriously. Amazing how even a little bit helps enormously!

You have made me proud to be a Jew, and proud that I joined the tribe. You have been the light that balances an almost overwhelming darkness. You truly are where G-d is, G-d acts, and G-d speaks. I know it sounds over the top, but if only you could see it from my perspective, at ground zero.

I want to mention the serendipity and beauty of my move to my own home. Perhaps Providence? Sukkot, the Feast of Booths, is my favourite festival. It is also a marker of a beginning, when I left everything behind and went to LA and the first services I attended were on Sukkot at the shul where I met LARabbi™ z"l and where I chose to make my home.

Sukkot is also a remembrance of my conversation 4 years later with LARabbi™ z"l while the Chatsworth fires were raging; he talked about the "end of days" (I do obsess at this time of year).

I found home with Judaism. With Torah. With Jews (even when you make me crazy). Shelter is very fragile, as I can attest. And don't think that any of you are immune. But as with all sukkot, where the rules dictate you must construct them so that one can see the sky and the stars, I can attest to the fact that I have been blessed by you and my close friends who kept me sheltered with word and money, and who kept the roof open; and I have been blessed by Jewish agencies, though not by my shul community (where the rabbi hasn't called for a month since the original cry for help). I hope, finally, that soon I will have no need of tzedakah.

Thanks to you all, to your small and large gestures from kindness and compassion and justice, I am able to see the sky and stars. Still.

Soul Accounting and My Rav, LARabbi™ Z"L

What a downer for the High Holy Days, huh?

Or maybe a reminder.

My last memories of my rav z"l are on the High Holy Days. At that time the California fires were burning so close you could see them on the horizon. Day and night. Helicopters, looking like mosquitoes, filled with water rather than with blood, disturbed the heavens. I mentioned the fires to him, and he replied, "It's the end of days." I said, "You're kidding, right? It's so Christian." He said, "No, I'm not; it is the end of days". 3 weeks later, he was gone.

This man, this erudite rabbi, had a family, had friends, had many worshippers- people who adored him. Had immense compassion, ongoing humour, kindness, concern, genius intellect, a love of words and fresh ideas, etc. etc. He was there for you. He was almost too good to be true. What makes a human being like that check out?

I don't know.

But his legacy is this: I know personally the devastation that he left in his wake. I know how his absence affects the practical aspects of my life (like references and aliyah). I know how he left behind many others just like me. I know that we never know what effect we may have on someone in the future, in those windows that we can't even begin to see through or fathom.

It rather irks me that I am accountable for the future; that maybe somewhere at one point, my being here matters for someone. Unless you are completely self-absorbed, just the notion that one matters, in the future, aborts all ideas about annihilation.
To me, it's even better than the threat of fire heck and Sheol. Or whatever people have fantasised about as punishment.

During this time of Elul, we are doing a soul accounting; well, I haven't really, because I'm just trying to save my life. Nevertheless, the wonder and vexation of the future is that you never know whom you may encounter that is touched by you, affected, or influenced. It is easy to shun most responsibilities in life, or even take on the more conventional ones with pride and feel good and say, "that's enough".

But who lives their lives for the sake of the future? Knowing that you may matter at the proper moment. That without you, a lot of things couldn't happen. Not out of pride, but out of responsibility. Out of command.

I know what happened with the removal of my rav's presence. His being had such power that it messed with the axis of the world. Scary, really, that kind of butterfly effect. Most of us never have that kind of impact. But then, you never know, do you?

If you feel remotely responsible for your behaviour and what happens to others... you just never know the magnitude of your being, here.

Poverty and Shiva and Curses

The thought occurs: talking with or to a person who is on the verge of bankruptcy and homelessness is like talking to the loved one of a dead person. Both are sitting shiva, only the shiva of a poor person seems to have no end, in terms of losses. Often it is best to sit by their side and hold their hand and remain silent and follow their lead when they do speak.

Becoming poor, I realise, is very much about loss, and the financial aspect merely the tip of the iceberg, the surface of things. Just imagine the losses, if you are able. Most people inhabit the world in which loss is concrete, in terms of love, in terms of death, in terms of fripperies. There are social and/or religious rituals for all.

But, what is the ritual and protocol for the descent into, and being in, poverty? I finally met with my therapist today and it is clear she didn't grasp that I was sitting shiva, though I can't blame her because it was all about feeling overwhelmed and disorganised with all the things I need to do, and all the bureaucracy; no time even for tapping into the chasm of forlornness that pervades it all. Still, I hope people understand that those who lose financially are losing so much more and there is so much bereavement, beyond any feeling of shame or humiliation or anything you can imagine.

I never imagined my blog would turn in this direction. But it has. It's like living in a completely different world from others. It's like moving through this world on a different frequency, with such different needs from the needs and hungers of the general populace. Often, your world is reduced to the penny on the street. Yet, somehow, I don't begrudge others their prosperity (ok, except for the venal types, and a curse be upon them).

Speaking of curses; I was studying Ki Tavo last week, and here is what was written (edited for pertinence):

But if you do not obey the Lord your God to observe faithfully all His commandments and laws which I enjoin upon you this day, all these curses shall come upon you and take effect: The Lord will let loose against you calamity, panic, and frustration in all the enterprises you undertake .... The Lord will make pestilence cling to you... The Lord will strike you with madness... and dismay ... you shall not prosper in your ventures, but shall be constantly abused and robbed, with none to give help.....If you build a house, you shall not live in it. If you plant a vineyard, you shall not harvest it. ... A people you do not know shall eat up the produce of your soil and all your gains; you shall be abused and downtrodden continually ... The stranger in your midst shall rise above you higher and higher, while you sink lower and lower: he shall be your creditor, but you shall not be his; he shall be the head and you the tail.
All these curses shall befall you; ... Because you would not serve the Lord your God in joy and gladness over the abundance of everything, you shall have to serve — in hunger and thirst, naked and lacking everything — the enemies whom the Lord will let loose against you. He will put an iron yoke upon your neck until He has wiped you out.

Source

If anyone got this far in their reading, know that when I read it, I wondered, wow, sounds like I am cursed, because I sure have experienced the above. And if I am cursed, I don't get it. I just don't get it. Like, is it karma? Because my sociopathic landlady is prospering while leaving me and the wreckage of any secure life I had in her wake.

This is a total conundrum to me. If I am cursed, if this, my life now, is a curse, then what? What in heaven's name would it take not to be cursed?

While I sit shiva, I have had friends. Including those who come here or in email and leave comments and hold my hand. And listen to me. There is no greater kindness, or greater Jews. Thank you. I imagine, overall, I have been blessed way more than I have been cursed. At least I would like to think so.

Elul-ul-ul-ul-ul

As I was writing this response in comments below it made me realise how different life and people are from what we have been led in Judaism, to believe. In Judaism and tradition, there is the legend of cause and effect. For example, you ask for help, and the community comes through for you. You are in distress, and some Jew cares. You are poor, and someone will try to elevate you from your poverty.

But the part that I find so striking is the idea that there is someone who will take a personal interest in you. You read it in midrashim and in anecdotes, and also very much in Hasidic literature, which many non-Hasidic rabbis and communities are ready to adopt and promulgate in a piecemeal kinda way. You know, that feel good idea that we are all in this together, a "holy community" and that the Jewish obligation is to look out for one another? Yeah. Sure.

The reality is so different. Everyone is busy. People plead busyness- that's their excuse. Even rabbis have to prepare for the High Holy Days with their exhortations for what, I am not sure. Probably because their livelihood depends on it? I know there is always a plea for money. Usually for the building fund or the mortgage and other expenses. I understand the pressure. But it doesn't justify their focus. For several weeks all other concerns get swept away. Cease to exist. And yes, I am talking about the urgency of what is happening to me. At this time of year, Elul, increasing tzedakah, seems to mean that the poor and the needy, are expected to be the most generous. in their understanding, of a general indifference while the machers do their thing. I am not one of them.

Is there no one clear-eyed, clear-hearted, and brave, left? To be fair there is always a reaching out to the disaffected, but unless you are a charismatic orator, all I can say is I admire the "dull" ones their perseverance. Because the "disaffected" are the most likely to bring lunch on Yom Kippur. The truly disaffected have been long gone from the shul.

And there is Project Isaiah, providing food for the poor; doesn't it feel great to supply kosher food to the faceless kin? Because, G-d forbid that you should notice a poor Jew right in your face who might take you out of your happy, shiny people comfort zone. G-d forbid that you might be inconvenienced at some time to deal with the intimate tsuris of a "needy" Jew.

It makes me wonder, if nowadays, the Judaism promulgated is a fantasy, not the squirmy reality. Talk among yourselves.

Meanwhile I want to mention with gratitude, the mensches in my life, who perhaps even put lie to what I wrote above. I know I have missed some, but this is all I can manage for now- I hope to repair the omissions. If Judaism is Jews, then the following make Judaism look like a viable faith alternative; but more importantly it shows to me that the "captive G-d" of Heschel's nightmares is a lie. G-d is ALIVE and FREE. And the following have kept or set G-d free.

To the following commenters, all strangers to me:

joey,
I know that people can't often give money. Still, your soulful support and understanding mean more to me than you can ever guess; I have learned that not everything is measured in money- sometimes words are such a treasure (as is money :).

anonymous,
I wish I were in NY. I did not know that having any legal power exists for people like me because you are right- I don't have a lease and have no rights whatsoever. Man, I wish I lived there! Thank you so much for your concern. I can't say often enough what that means to me, because it can be so isolating, this experience, and thinking you can depend on the Jewish community can be one of the most devastatingly disappointing experiences imaginable. I won't go on....

Sk,
Thank you for your solid and unimpeachable words. I so agree with you. Your words are a treasure. Pure gold.

Sefardi,
You touch my heart and you understand things and emotions that make me crazy too and the sheer nuttiness of the disparity between the ideal and the reality. You have a gimlet eyed (and disillusioned) view that I share.Wow.

I can't email you because you share no public address. Help!

Lioness,
Well, I think you are my poetic soulmate. You GET it. Not that others don't but you get it on the level of feelings and the glory of words.

To all, especially those I have missed right now:

I am so amazed and touched that this loving handful get it in so many ways!

I also especially want to thank my anonymous, constant and faithful angel who has helped keep me going for a couple of years now; who always sends words of blessing and hope to me. You GET it, too.

I don't know what to say. None of life and Judaism and Jews has turned out anything like I expected. Hmmmm, maybe there's a great post in that, someday :).

To be poor is to suffer. To encounter the face of G-d in kind and generous people who have no reason to love me, have never met me? This is no romantic fantasy. This is the real deal. And it so eases my suffering. And gives so much hope. Beyond choosing life or death. Because when you see others choose such Life, to choose blessing and not curse, to live it and share it, to offer you Life (without the needy having to beg first), it shames you into wanting to be just like them.

And one other thought- there would be no beggars if everyone became an offerer, not a giver, but an offerer.