Wandering Barefoot

I am packing, and moving this Saturday to that walk-in closet sized room I will call 'shelter' for the next while. We all are moving. I feel sad. I really could use listening to the first Haftarah of Consolation, but I am going to miss it.

I will be without internet access for an indefinite period of time. Thank you for your sweet and encouraging comments. B'shalom...

You Are Consecrated to Me According to the Laws of Minhag

I continue to scan a lot of Jewish blogs. The conversations are, by turns, fascinating and illuminating. I feel like an anthropologist. Yet, being a young Jewess (religiously), I make the mistake, each time, of anticipating that if it is Jewish, there must be religion in there somewhere, especially when observance is trotted out as a modifier. In contrast, I am finding, that though Jewish culture is alive and kicking, so is observance-as-culture. We Jews seem to live a whole lot of religious culture and not so much, religion (for lack of a better word).

The various blogs make me wonder, what is religion anyway? Is it tradition? Observance? Conformity to the prevailing culture in the Jewish community? Whatever we make it?

I find that people often mention their level of observance or their affiliation, which assumes (often, incorrectly) a committed level of observance, and a standard. There are many labels of affiliation, perhaps, more importantly, identification. This became very apparent while scanning the dating sites. Reminds me a little of the Jets and the Sharks, from West Side Story (is there a Biblical equivalent to the Montagues and Capulets?) Let's see, from poring over Jewish texts- the dating sites and blogs- the bouquet garni flavouring the non-melding pot of Jews, freely flowing from my misfiring memory, contains the following: Sephardic, modern orthodox- liberal, modern orthodox- machmir (stringent), black hat, yeshiva, chareidi, conservative, renewal, reconstructionist, reform, orthodox, shomer mitzvot, yeshiva modern, satmar, lubavitch, litvak, bobover, etc., traditional, Carlebachian, .....as I take a deep breath to relieve the dizziness, that is all I remember. Oh yeah, I forgot the 'heretic' Karaites.

Since I am new to all of this, when I read the conversations, I discover many things. Tznius (modesty) is a biggie. I find it interesting that it is largely men talking about what women should or should not be wearing. Often one woman will chime in. But it is largely men delving lovingly and at length into the minutiae of what constitutes tznius, and more importantly and saliently, what constitutes 'tznius' in a major babe, or "hottie", especially when she is intelligent and prominent. Somehow, I don't get the feeling this has much to do with religion, though modesty of clothing and speech is enshrined in halacha.

Another prevalent subject spotlights the observation, or fear, of visibly breaking the rules (halacha); in the secular world the 'observers' would call the self-styled keepers of the 'law', "nosy" and "intrusive"; in the Jewish world they would be called a yenta (gossip maven); in the halachic world it can be justified by the injunction to "correct one's fellow". Hence we have the "shomer" label- if you say that you keep certain laws or all the possible laws, you are asserting your standing in the halachic hierarchy; it seems rather like a defence against the "cultural/halachic" yentas. When does halacha become minhag (custom) and culture, and chauvinism? Ditto, the kol isha issue (interdiction against hearing a woman's voice). The way it is approached rather reminds me of Victorian days, when a glimpse of a woman's ankle was considered seductive and felt erotic. It isn't religion. But females feel the pressure and the non-religious scrutiny, nevertheless. Whether it is the length of one's skirt or the seams on an adolescent's stockings.

Then there are the activities forbidden for one pride of Jews, but not for another. Or encouraged. Whether it is shaving of heads, wearing of head coverings or style of head coverings, touch, socialising of sexes, appropriate attire, appropriate grooming, the style of one's hairs, the cut of one's tzitzit, the clothes you wear, the food you eat, ostensible observance, like Shabbos or any other measurable ritual, and the way that ritual is supposed to be performed....I am sure there are more. Again, when does minhag become halacha? Or halacha minhag? The differences make a difference, in that you become different and, therefore, a stranger. And people tend to fear or be suspicious of a stranger.

Then there is education, esteemed purview of Jews since Abraham; one can argue the relative merits of yeshiva, seminary, Jewish day school, Hebrew school, study for females, a Torah learning life, a secular education, and making a living. For example, someone who has learned a load of halacha can run rings around someone less learned. Of course, who you learned from can be the measure of your standing and that can be argued as well. All for the sake of heaven, I am sure, as is kashrut in its infinite variety and all the quibbles about what constitutes a kosher hechsher (kosher seal of approval).

Among all the voices, it seems that one thing is clear- if you do not ostensibly show yourself to behave in a certain manner, another will write you off, judge you, or after some idiosyncratic scrutiny, accept you as one of their own "kind". It seems to me that the tradition handed down for so many centuries has somehow gotten mixed up with the religious. Piety depends on the length of your skirt or the cut of your hairs. And this is what many discuss. All those designations mentioned above, are largely about culture. There is some evidence, I think, that when a people lives religiously for centuries, according to the 'law', by the time it reaches the generations of this century, it has lost much of its meaning except to tell you whether you belong or not, whether you have an identity or not. It becomes part of the culture of your community. To be observant becomes an artifact. And G-d and Torah can be used to exclude you, denigrate you, intimidate you, by those with whom you affiliate.

As someone at End the Madness, a site that re-evaluates the perspective on dating and marriage, in its section on the covenant, so astutely pointed out:

People who scorn marriage with others based upon non-Halachic externalities are in violation of [the interdiction against] sinas chinam (baseless hatred).

And that is what I see in many conversations- hatred among Jews that is without reason or merit, hatred based on pettiness and on religious acculturation which hasn't anything remotely to do with G-d and Torah and Yisrael. And it doesn't matter whether you perceive yourself as liberal or otherwise, enlightened or traditional- when it comes down to the details, they are all petty and rather sexist, a matter of personal convenience. It is easy to avow that one is an "observant" Jew, as if ritual were the measure of a man (and I use the word "man", advisedly); it is far harder to act like a mensch. I guess along with Yiddishkeit, I would like to see more menschlichkeit, not as an afterthought, but as the way of communion with fellow Jews, as part of one's ways in life.

I think that the problems of dating and marriage exemplify what is wrong with attitudes today as in days past:

It is fundamentally wrong to judge someone based on non-Halachic externalities. Doing so is an act of sinas chinam, the primary cause of our continued exile and national suffering. Reciting tehillim will not save us as long as the reason for our punishment continues in such force. People who scorn marriage with others based upon non-Halachic externalities are in violation of sinas chinam. This is true even if they are friends, even if they eat in each other’s homes, even if they learn Torah together, etc. The ultimate sign of true acceptance between people and families – or lack thereof – is marriage ~From End the Madness

Otherwise, Judaism as Torah bearer and standard is denied and betrayed.

On the same note, I think that it is human nature to concentrate on the externals, which are so easy to quantify. It is hard to be a Jew, and it is even harder to be a sincere Jew from the heart. When you are a heartfelt Jew it is a guarantee that almost every day of your life, your heart will be broken in some manner. I think that the yoke of Torah is far tougher than just adhering to the mitzvot (pretty tough in itself). It means being a mensch when no one else is. That is such a huge and worthy challenge- to be a decent human being and to do it modestly, without fanfare, in the face of so much temptation and ugliness. Not to say that those online are lacking; it is simply to say that there is more to being a Jew than the culture of observance.

Fasting and Mourning Again, Oh My

aim of fasts and mourning is spiritual rebirth, not preoccupation with sadness

Okay, I can buy that. Tomorrow is a no Torah study day. I was going to write about the desert and poppies but haven't finished it. I am not happy about having a day without the possibility of studying Torah. I don't study Torah every day, but I hate it when I'm told I'm not supposed to. I feel deprived. There are some terrifying aspects of Tisha B'Av, in my opinion.

Meanwhile, a kind person is giving me a ride to services tonight (none tomorrow, alas). I figure it's better to go mourn the destruction of the Temple than to sit home amidst the chaos of packing, mourning the destruction of my room. And besides, I love the tropes for Lamentations. It is genius. Torah is genius. Our sages are genius. G-d is good. I still don't want to fast. But I will be barefoot.

~~~~~~

Update: Yes, I was barefoot at the service. There were 14 of us (and one reluctant, pissed off teen- she was a sweetie for bearing it all). The rabbi said that it was okay if people wore leather; that the most important thing was that we take off our shoes (i.e., do not wear leather) during the service. Feh! I do not think so! I still assert, however, if anyone can get through Eichah (Lamentations) without shedding a tear...well.

I fasted and lasted 21 hours. Dear Rachel writes that she hoped it was meaningful. I dunno. I'm too distressed. This the first time this has happened. I hit the wall of major hunger at 2 pm and decided to continue. At hour 21 it was a piece of cake. So, I was readily tempted and I went for Tostitos and peach salsa. Sigh.

Are Those Your Tzitzit Or Are You Just Happy to See Me

I was surfing the net during one of those periods where you have time to fill with whatever. I love 'whatever' because you never know what you might discover from desultory exploration. Usually 'whatever' happens in the middle of the night when you don't have to feel guilty- unless you feel guilty for not reading Tehillim (psalms) or studying a bit of Torah instead.

I love the Hasidic view of Torah where practically anything you study which is Jewish constitutes Torah. Torah is alive, and so, in effect, everything is an extension of living Torah- whether it is studying Tanakh, Talmud, mussar, midrash, Hasidic tales, meditation, Kabbalah, Zohar or commentary of all sorts including words by all the gedolim (greats) throughout the ages until this very moment in time; this includes practically any medium that is religiously Jewish, and that includes, in my opinion, the videos of "Mysteries of the Bible". Which means that at any time I engage in Jewish learning or inquiry, it is Torah. I'm thinking of changing my name to "Torah Babe".

Since I have been reading webjournals by all and sundry Jews, one of the overriding themes in many blogs is the shidduch, a rather clear-eyed match- people are looking to find someone to marry. Some even employ the services of a shadchan, a matchmaker. This is a tradition found largely in the Orthodox community. Regardless of affiliation, my oh my there are sooooo many singles looking for a soulmate!

So, out of curiosity, I have scanned the men of a certain age thinking there ought to be a paucity. I went to Frumster, because if you affiliate as a serious Conservative Jewess, you are pretty well lost and adrift in a sea of secular Jews in places like JDate. Just examining the offerings is an interesting sociological study. After punching in the particulars for Modern Orthodox-Liberal (I don't even know what that means but I was attracted to the word "liberal"), a slew of potentials arose. Wow!

I figured they would all be dull. I was wrong. The presentation of some was so personal and outstanding. They wrote in their own words, detailing their loves, without reservation, and set down their limits. If I were looking I would take a chance. Man, I felt like they were the flower and I was the bee; I give huge props to anyone who can capture my interest, which is generally very hard to do. Some went for the standard immodest parading of golden shekels (so tacky), others for describing their houses in certain attractive places( I have a fetish for "home") or promised travel, some knew enough to entice and others knew nothing, but their desire was sympatico with mine. And of course, just write "Israel" in your particulars and I am yours. I realised that even with the number narrowed down, taking the plunge is still such a crap shoot!

It's easy to scissor away certain people that you will never gel with. The guy whose picture does not appeal after you read the in-depth stuff. The ones where his politically and flagrantly right leanings (I am a bleeding heart socialist) are not mitigated by the rest of his essentials. The guy who has never been married at a very ripe age. The one who is looking for looks and fitness (why did you never graduate from this phase?) or someone who at his advanced age, wants to breed for the first time. Hello????? Do you have buckets of money???? The ones who proffer no picture; forget it, it ain't gonna happen. Skimming this stuff, it is hard not to try to give the benefit; I do know that if these men were hanging out in my sphere in real life it would be better for both of us, because the written stuff is still PR, and necessarily objectifies us. In real life, upon acquaintance, no one remains a thing. I pity the seekers for the very real hardship, disappointment and rejection they must bear, while simultaneously according them nothing but my deepest respect for their bravery.

I happened upon a photo of one man who was not unattractive (and anyone who does not resemble my ex qualifies- he of the all-too-familiar and pleasant face) , but I find attraction is very idiosyncratic, so pix are really, really important. What made me swoon ( if I were so inclined) was that he was wearing tzitzit. I am a sucker for the right man in tzitzit; it's very shallow of me, I know. I don't think this is the norm, though, so don't try to entice a woman with your fringes, even if the knotting is Sephardic.

The first time I davenned on Yom Kippur, there was a beautiful madder rose lace curtain that consituted the mechitza (barrier). I was there because I had nowhere else to go and I shall always be grateful to the shul for a venue (the wonderful Laugh Factory was a whole other story). The women largely schmoozed and some papered the walls with loshon hara (yes, really) while the men davenned their guts out. I was engrossed, carried along on prayer, as were a few lovely younger women, beating my breast for a lifetime's worth of sins- in essence I felt rather like a baalat teshuva and I want you to know that the view from the other side ain't pretty .

I remember that half way through the davenning I unfocussed my eyes into the distance to rest and where did they alight? Through a veil of gorgeous lace they rested upon the other side, upon the men. In the unfocussed haze, at that very moment a man stirred within my vision; wearing a large white tallit, he prostrated himself. In one easy motion he stood, he knelt, he bent his body to the ground. It was as if he were participating in a supernal ballet, his movement so graceful, flowing to completion in one seamless, rolling wave- such surrender- that he looked like an angel...I remember him as an angel with those great flowing white wings of tallit. I was so moved. So awed. It was sublime. I wanted to be him. They say that on Yom Kippur we are like angels, but I never thought that I would actually see one or want to be like one!

The photograph that I happened upon- when you enlarge it, showed the potential bashert standing there dressed nicely and dangling tzitzit. Oh! Man oh man! What a tease! Waving at me, more than a fashion statement. And I love a guy in a tallit. It's damn sexy. Add tefillin and you have to scrape me off the ceiling, no lie! Going to a Reform service is usually such a let down- suits just don't do it for me. I'm thinking that if we want to reinterpret halacha to take into account current concerns, that perhaps we can find new reasons for the mechitza- like keeping women's yetzer hara dampened down, or perhaps just mine, if I ruled the world. I also find that Torah chant can be rather attractive- let's not even go there. So perhaps we should forbid a man's voice. In fact, why not stick the men in the back, keep them quiet and let the women run the services?

Well, this is my dirty little secret. I haven't found another woman who shares this preference, yet. Of course, our sages understood how erotic and intimate our connection with G-d can be when they added Shir HaShirim (The Song of Songs) to the Jewish Canon. And our mystical writings are drenched with intimate purpose. Man is a vessel for G-d in all ways, after all. And I know, so is Woman. In fact, I would love for someone to see a photo of me in my ivory cloud of a tallit, wearing tefillin (even I haven't seen me!), similar to the photos below, and swoon. Jewish pornography. At its best. Perhaps in another life.....

Living Tisha B'Av: I Feel Bleched

Next week I am moving. And so is the rest of the household. Two months into my sojourn here, we received notice that the owner wanted to sell the house. An "off-shore" owner had bought it, as many do, as an investment, and the market was hot. It never ceases to curdle my brain that a hot market in reality, deals, when all is said and done, not in brick, mortar, wood, stucco, reed, paper, cloth, stone or tree, but in bodies. Usually a body count.

This will be my 5th move in 8 months. Starting with the most wrenching- from LA and all felicity and possibility and my dearest friend, then here in the clouded dead of winter in a motel, then a hard narrow cold couch and a paranoid lunatic, then this house in the verdant hills with the soaring blue green trees and playful swallows and the holy silence and transparent air and ..... descending into the next incarnation of nomadic "homes"- a cramped, lightless, noisy townhouse complex in a suburb. I have sworn over and over again that if I ever landed in such a place I would slit my throat or jab hot needles into my eyes.

I ain't no starving artist- not writer nor journalist pursuing a distant dream- I am a divorced woman without family all alone in a place where she would rather not be, tolerating the curves life has thrown lately- or should I say, for the past 8 months. It does make one pause.

Today, when I returned to this place, I learned that several people had tramped through- the future owners, their kids, the contractors, measuring. I was not notified. And all I could think of is that this one space that I rent was not a space I owned, even with rental- I thought about my rushed exit, I thought about my "unmentionables" strewn around the room, and mostly I thought of how when you live a nomadic life, not much belongs to you. I comfort myself with the idea that though sometimes annoying, it is ultimately okay. What matters is not the stuff or how it is presented. Judaism has tempered my view.

I don't want to move I am not good at moving. Bring on the hot needles! I don't want to deal in the midst of this primal upheaval, with Tisha B'Av either. I don't want to fast, and I don't want to mourn. I have mourned enough in the past year. I don't see myself sitting on the floor, barefoot (will my storage regurgitate cloth shoes???) reading (in English) or listening to Lamentations, mourning the destruction of the Temple and all the incredibly tragic occurrences coinciding on the same anniversary. I am living Tisha B'av, my homes keep getting destroyed. And though the Sabbath is a "palace/sanctuary in time" (Heschel), let's face it, when you realise that there is a corner on the street reserved with your name on it, just in case, along with some bags and a shopping cart, (and everybody has nightmares about it), you dearly long for some prosaic drywall or plaster, to have the luxury of dreaming the rest. Lately, I have noticed that all paths have been leading farther and farther away from my Jewish home- just call me, "Jewess Flux".

Contrast Tisha B'Av with the miracle of the Six Day War- and I think that things cosmically balance themselves out a little. Though we may not have been returned to a physical Temple we scored an outer wall- the real deal. You lose a home, you win a home, more intensely spiritual, perhaps, because of the original losses and because of the effort. The Shechina follows us into exile and suffuses our historical remnants, when we return. Somewhere there is home and the promise of home. There is Abraham and his seed and the stars and the vast vault of sky......and G-d's promises, such daring and grand visions.....oh my. Fast forward to the last century: more moving than anything are photographs of liberation soldiers at the Kotel(Western or Wailing Wall), of liberation non-believers weeping at the Wall or touching it or placing prayers into its stalwart seams. I am okay with Jews who only see a cultural artifact. Just save it for us and preserve it. So we can continue to pray there......and I will settle for the remnant rather than nothing at all.

Nothing much remains of my life here, where I was still married, where I lost so much. Except that my ex is now working in a civic place that I visit. Feh! A remnant I can do without. The destruction of continuity, stability and future remain vivid to me emotionally- such memory is heavy, it is grave, it is baggage. My Vengeance Demon key to breaking the curse is simply that I hate it here, I will never adjust, I'm hauling too many steamer trunks, I left this town a long time ago.

Sukkot is my fave festival. It reminds us that we live in temporary, fragile shelters. But oh my, those shelters can be damned enticing, with their transient felicity, prosperity and abundance. I can't wait for Tisha B'Av to be over. I dread Yom Kippur even while Rosh Hashana tags along to kiss us and make it better. I am ambivalent about being barefoot so soon again. I have sinned bigtime, but I have also endured a wasteland. Where to find the balance? My sights are set on Sukkot (I've discharged a .22 in the past and I am a crack shot).

The festivals roll on as they have for millennia and whatever happens, whatever my choices, I know that whether I transgress or not, there is comfort and stability in the continuity and the knowing- in time. This is something that is not provided elsewhere in this evanescent world. Way past the well-oiled and claustrophobic descent into smaller rooms.

~~~~~~~~~~~

My (non-Jewish) friend remarked the following on my new address:

I like the 66 too. Can't help but be amused by the closeness to the Christian 66 anti-Christ.

This was my response: just got back- got the belt (for the vacuum) got the challah, got some chocolate and a vanilla coloured raw silk pillow for 7 bucks- i am heavily into white- some blueberries and cheap smoked oysters (so not kosher- the mollusks)*- haha about the "belt problems" - unreal, huh? (she was having them , too)- the blech was because i am moving down in life going to this noisy cramped lightless townhouse- and YEAH!!!!!!! BIG HONKING awareness of the 66 designation and I was NOT AMUSED - the end of days for sure, soooooooooo close.....

oo a care package- i am touched and could use one......i love surprises!- tonight XXX and i go hunting for free boxes at the mall- blech blech and double blech- also unbeknownst to me, the people who bought the house came thru AGAIN!!!!!!!! with the contractor- to measure and i did not know and left all sorts of stuff including unmentionables strewn about the place- this time i am not amused

- still,.......it's a gorgeous day tho rather HUMID

XXX is taking me to storage on sunday so i can store my rug BECAUSE IT DOESN'T FIT THE CAGE I AM GOING INTO , and other sundries

am going to services sat morning- the rabbi is back- blech

i guess today i am really bleched



~~~~~~~~~~


If you happen this way before that time- Shabbat Shalom to all! And may you have an easy fast.


* I am working my way up the ladder of observance of Kashrut (so C!)- it's funny, you start with small things (though giving up pork was major for me- I did it to challenge my desire for answers, with emunah and bitachon, but a yen for Virginia ham with my eggs benny, or a stack of BBQ spare ribs smothered in sauce still haunts my days- it was all so yummy...) ......over time, somehow you find yourself wanting to do more- fueled not by will, I believe, but by G-d's desire- so, yeah, I still eat mucho treif but I eat far less of it. Sue me.

Topsy Turvy

Am feeling a need to cleanse myself of the previous post. Here is a beautiful poem. 15th C or 21st C- not much has changed...


See How Horses Streak Through the Sea

See how horses streak through the sea like lightning bolts,
and ships sail though the marketplace.
A thread of linen splinters a bar of iron,
and water blazes like wood.
Leopards flee before kids and foxes give chase to lions.
Nor should you marvel that the world is turned topsy-turvy
and the times have strayed from their natural course.
Believe all this when you behold how man perverts his ways.
Oppression grows from day to day.
Wisdom, like a dead man, is put out of mind;
it is the sport of babes and infants.
And when they marry off their daughters they do not ask if
the bridegroom is wise, but how much money pours out of him!
The tailor, stepping forth with his needle in hand,
deems himself a giant-killer.
The cords of cloth, hung round his neck he takes for necklaces,
and his threads are sweeter to his tongue than honey.
The goldsmith's beard is singed in the crucible
and his eyes bloodshot from fire and sparks,
and still he is prized for his silver or gold —
though none of it be his!

Let us sport like brothers in thicket and meadows,
in soft gardens, not in rocky crevices.

We shall surround our tents with beds of lilies and roses.
All birds of grace, the teeming life of the fields,
doves besides brooks of water — these shall be our playmates.
And there we shall not see the vagaries or time
nor pay heed to wicked betrayers.

Nor we shall laugh time to scorn
and now we shall delve into deep mysteries.
Slowly, eagerly, we shall drink the wine of wisdom
and feed on wafers of choice melodies — until time mend again
what it had twisted and restore all it has ruined;
until time set apart the lead from the gold,
and the grasshoppers from the giants.

Draw near, my fair companion, and I shall break into song,
and the mouths of the dumb will shout for joy,
and all distress will vanish.
Draw near, lest the jealous ones, who love to put lovers to scorn,
string their bows against us.
But whether you draw near or go afar, my cherub,
all my days are given over to your friendship.
And should you ever see me exchanging you for another love —
you will also see horses streaking through the sea
like lightning bolts!


~~ Solomon Bonafed, Spanish Poet and Philosopher 15th C

(Translation by T. Carmi)



And here is a stunning picture of Fractals . A scientist once described Fractals as "the thumbprint of G-d".

BigBad

I have been perusing some Jewish blogs to get a sense of what is out there, what my fellow Jews are writing. The one thing I can state categorically about my tribe is that they are not stupid. They use their wits like sabres (plus ça change...). Often, mental street fighting and brawling seem de riguer. Cleverness is worshipped. Even if, in the end, the words do not stick. All that matters is the repartée. Veeery PoMo. It is rather like Yeshiva gone Dread Pirate Roberts. I must hasten to add, though, that a free-for-all can be exhilarating. And gratifying. Been there, done it, I wish everyone pleasure in it.

I have seen this often in secular culture. And yet, if you are not amusing, it is that much harder to gain the respect of those blessed with brains and a way with words. In fact, for those who do not really care about what they say, the world is their oyster. They can swashbuckle a charismatic, self-centred swath through society and actually garner followers. They gain notoriety and, fame, perhaps.

And so, enter, "BigBad". A well known, even infamous poster, blogger, "journalist", "writer". I find it rather amazing that so many of us can string a bunch of words together and that somehow that gives us status as 'writer'. I admit I do not know what would constitute that designation but it is clear to me that anyone can call themselves whatever they like, especially on the net. You just have to have chutzpah.

I admit an irritation with those who seem so full of themselves. Flaming self-absorption ain't pretty- it is distasteful. Such is the way of the world, though, especially these days where modesty and self-effacement are at a premium. It is far easier to posture; posing has no rules. Being a poseur is applauded. Anything is valued that does not smack of the real. It is far easier, I find, to learn the language of the alpha group and fake it.

In all ways, I love the energy of those fertile and clever minds whose cavernous blogs I wade through, spelunking for gems beneath. Once in a while, someone will connect so purely with something in the Jewish world and experience, and it takes my breath away. I live in wonder and I want to honour them for being so astute, for being brave enough to say something so concerned and connected, so idiosyncratic. I admire longing and desire and disappointment; I do not admire the facade. Facades are so easy. Just follow the blueprint.

After all these years, even though I have dampened my enthusiasm for psychological analysis*, it seems to be important enough that when I see disorder, all the red flags wave frantically. Why? For the sake of those affected by the behaviour of those with personality disorders. We are talking here about religion and how it attracts the disturbed. And how organised religion is the ultimate symbiote for the psychologically disordered.

~~~~~~~

I used to think that "love conquered all" and that love can move mountains. I was naive enough to believe that a religious culture would attract serious seekers who possessed a sense of integrity. I thought it was possible to act with a pure heart. What I did not know was that, though, indeed the culture can provide a nurturing, accepting, encouraging atmosphere, it also attracts those who can feed their compulsions or their illness; and that by immersing themselves in the religion, both through knowledge and through behaviour, it is very easy to become someone esteemed. Especially if ritualistic behaviour is preferred and emphasised. I would say the codified minutiae of the Shulchan Aruch gives them guaranteed entree into the Jewish world, and if you are judging by level of observance, narcissists are the masters of projecting the right image.

I am on intimate terms with knowledge of the disordered. Until I got religion, my life was pretty uneventful. To this day, I do not understand why suddenly, I entered a world inhabited by whackos (unless living in LA had something to do with it). And let me tell you, there are moments when the moniker "whacko" says it all, even though it is less than circumspect. The net psycho was only the beginning. At my old shul, that was followed by a couple of women.

Enough about my experiences. Let us take on the case study of said, "BigBad". In reading his own words in his virtual "book", the words of his mother, and the words of a psychiatrist who diagnosed him with Narcissistic Personality Disorder, one gets the sense of why he is attracted to Judaism, especially Orthodox Judaism. His clever words, salacious world, and ambiguities, also explain those attracted to him, those who like to flirt with the demimonde. And because confession has become the hallmark of our times- no matter what one confesses, we will be enthralled and we will tolerate or forgive because someone had the cojones or chutzpah to tell it like it is- or so we think, and so we can live vicariously and safely away from the unsavoury reality. A narcissist could not be happier with this- because a narcissist does not care about the content, but they care a whole lot about the impact and the more they can push the envelope, the happier they are.

The central thing to understand about pathological narcissists is that they have a "slippery inner narrative"(not my insight). Which means that they can create personalities and behaviours disassociated from themselves, certainly ones wherein they can let their rage loose, just like Amalek. Why? Because they are faithless. Which means that they are loyal to nothing and no one but their image. Their Jekyll and Hyde behaviour may seem like a contradiction, but it is not. No matter what they project, the tzaddik(completely righteous individual) or bottomfeeding, hateful "BigBad", neither is real. They are not in touch with anything about themselves because in essence there is nobody home. Severely pathological narcissists are very much like Amalek. Moreover, they can be dangerous to the mental health and life of others.

Pathological narcissists are emotional vampires. You find yourself doing all the work, in fact, filling in the emotional and human gaps for them, and if you are a mindful Jewess or Jew, with good will. Their behaviour can be puerile, and they love to stir up chaos. It does not take much to get us going. They know how to generate controversy, for the sake of the thrill of being in the centre of it all. If it ain't working, they will bail without a backward glance. They leave a trail of damaged human beings and human lives in their wake. They do not care.

How would I deal with someone whom I discovered was a narcissist sharing my blog? I would remove this person without fail. I would have no qualms. One of the most predictable things about them is that they will spam the site. In fact, they will spam all sites, under the guise of "information"; if they are guest bloggers , well, what an opportunity! Inevitably, it links back to them. If they have their own sites, they will have a multitude of links, all leading to them. It is guaranteed that all genuine discourse is aborted. A blog can become a dead thing. On the other hand, I think some people would sell their souls to rule the blogosphere, and it is a guarantee that said narcissist will generate hits.

Narcissists are so predictable. They want everything to be about them. So they will have suffered like no one else, they will be victims and it isn't their fault, they will be persecuted for no reason and they will provide us with tales of the monumental amount of injustices done to them. They will announce, sometimes subtly, sometimes not, how they have been misunderstood. And most importantly, they will assure us of their virtue, their innocence, and their earnestness. They will seem almost childlike in their 'purity'. No matter how puerile their behaviour, they expect you to forgive them and to ignore the elephant sitting in the room

These are the essential things you need to know about them, especially in a religious environment:

1) They charm and are usually good looking and have a way with the right words, sometimes exude charisma, and generally the more "successful" psychopathic types are gifted in some area.
2) They often are really easy to be with- since their conscience is minimal, their own behaviour encourages disinhibitions in others. They can be fascinating.
2) They are masters of smoke and mirrors: they will mirror the desires and values of the prevailing culture. No one does humility like they do. Because they often possess obsessive-compulsive traits, they are attracted to ritual.
3) In the face of a challenge, or to enhance their "greatness", they lie prodigiously. They were destined for greatness, but their career ambitions often were thwarted through no fault of their own.
4) They constantly seek advantage. To that end they will use you, and they are masters at getting. They will use your strengths and turn them into weaknesses- they love empathetic, giving people. In a nurturing, tolerant environment, they are like kids in a candy store; actually, unless checked, they own the candy store.
5) They will idealise certain people and take on their characteristics and when you disappoint or "humiliate" them they seek revenge with reckless abandon until they tire of it, or they are threatened with exposure or something calamitous, like jail. Stalking is part of their repertoire.
6) They will defer to those in power and those they fear- and will try to emulate them- and, hence, some people will mistake them for a tzaddik and/or urge them to become a rabbi.
7) They are a walking sad story: they are beset by misfortune, forever persecuted, misunderstood, even when they "confess" to weakness, and it is always someone else's fault.
8) They do not learn from their mistakes and have precious little insight into their own behaviour. They will confess to practically anything if it gets them attention.
9) They are incapable of sustaining intimate relationships.
10) They have no feeling for others; they have a lot of feeling for themselves. They are emotional vampires.
11) They are emotionally abusive and vindictive , often by implication; anyone in a relationship with them will begin to question their own sanity.
12) When you are no longer of use to them, they discard you. Expect them to return if there is a chance that you have something they want. And they will act as if nothing distressing ever happened.


They will bait you, using your Judaism against you, bringing your devotion to Judaism and Hashem into question. In principle, they will out-authoritarian the most severe rabbonim and gedolim. Those especially bound to authority and rules are easy pickings. They find ecstasy in skewering you with your own desire. When you confront with reason- implicitly, indirectly, sometimes obviously, they will destabilise you and your position by challenging your level of observance and standing as a Jew. They will manipulate the natural and normal self-doubt and conscience that every sincere Jew (and human being) possesses to undermine you and will pin you to the wall if you admit a flaw; they are ostensibly'generous' when you express a desire to rectify. They imply, always, and through constant repetition, that they are religiously strict in their own lives, like gods, (regardless of reality) and they demand that same strictness for you; inevitably they find you wanting. All of this is mostly to be read in-between the lines- all alongside their "genuine sincerity, simplicity and earnestness". Some may think them a holy fool. But let me tell you that a true holy fool leaves a trail of wondering, not a feeling that you've been slimed by something festering and deathly, that makes you crazy.

Outside of that environment, if they are diagnosed, they are known to celebrate their narcissism- it just makes them more "special" and further justifies their behaviour.

So I watch how they talk and act and move and I imitate them. I carry myself like them and I hope to achieve similar results to them. ~Narcissist

It is normal for a narcissist to present one face to certain people that matter, and another to those who don't matter. The narcissist can sound reasonable and the ultimate voice of sanity. The most successful psychopaths have been able to sustain their standing in their community, excel at their given occupation, while concurrently leading a deeply repellent personal life; often others ("friends")are cognizant of the latter, yet tacitly condone it by their tolerance. Alarms should go off if you find yourself confused around them.

A religious environment that structures and emphasises outward behaviour provides a fecund medium for evil to flourish and thrive, as well as holiness. One who adopts the structure makes it easier to take advantage of the trust and good nature of others. The pathological narcissist is neither in touch with their yetzer hara (evil inclination) or yetzer hatov . They know right from wrong so are not out of touch with reality. But they are a reactive machine in service to their shallow ambition- power and attention. I really want to say that they are all yetzer hara when they are indifferent to moral claims.

Pathological narcissists create for the rest of us a constant moral dilemma. For if we include them they will continue to do what they do and they will take all lovingkindness offered to them, chew it up and spit it out and complain that you never gave them anything and what kind of a Jew are you anyway. And if we create boundaries, often we suffer their wrath if we have no power or authority. If we do have power and authority, they will use our desire to be good Jews against us and misdirect healthy discourse from religion to religion as ideology (a fallacy), and thus invalidate it and those who are genuinely concerned.

I read something once. I think it was in David Wolpe's Healer of Shattered Hearts: A Jewish View of G-d: that to truly love causes discomfort. I think that is the difference between the narcissist and the rest of us neurotic folk. The narcissist is not capable of love, and therefore, easily moves through life, shattering hearts and bending minds.

Having unknowingly encountered these "BigBad" people and suffered the fallout, I will not be revisiting this subject again, because it remains distressing. Sometimes love and lovingkindness cannot move mountains but if you persist it can leave you mentally and emotionally battered, devastated or sick. As much as I look to my own flaws before judging, the simple psychological fact of mental disorder has tempered my judgment- that judgment must assert itself in our encounters, even within the religious community. The proper interdiction of loshon hara(evil speech) in the community unfortunately can be an added complication: it lengthens the time of damage before discovery by isolating those affected- a narcissist seeks to destabilise several people or their reputations in a shul- but each victim thinks they are alone. Although symbiosis can nurture mutual growth, when a narcissist latches on, it only guarantees the bloating of one, while the other is poisoned, emptied of life force and sickened. Narcissists are parasites.

I came across some words that provided a healing salve for the wasted years of time spent with them, for much seemed like a waste:

Love can fail, and we must know it can fail. For if love was always reciprocated, how could there ever be sincere love?

Rather, every person retains his free will. No matter how strong you pull with cords of love in the right direction, he may always turn his back and run away.

But you have done your part, you have shown love. And what is the reward of the mitzvah of love? It is the elevation of your soul, and his soul, and the drawing of the Infinite Light upon all the community of Israel and all the world. It is the entire Torah.

text from Be Within, Stay Above, words adapted by Tzvi Freeman

* I have a Masters in Counselling Psychology. It did not help. No one is immune at first.

Whose Life Is It, Anyway?

"Your life becomes not your own"

Those were the last words I said today, in parting from a woman who has decided to convert to Judaism. More specifically, as we hugged good-bye, I heard myself saying, "There is something important you need to know when you choose. Your life becomes not your own."

I am not thinking about restrictions, prohibitions, proscriptions, stringencies, fences, or anything to do with culture, minhag (custom), or community. Not even hashkafa (outlook). I am thinking about binding.

Several things come to mind- tefillin, Isaac, brit (covenant). But it is a long way to getting there.

Today was a day imbued with moments of deep pain. I met with the aforementioned woman, because she wanted input on converting (let's call her Rivka)- what to study, what to know. She is rather hell-bent on getting through the study part so she can convert. I told her it would take at least a year and told her what she needed to do and read. I studied and lived as a Jew for 2 years before I knew I was ready. She is taking a course in the fall. I did not take any courses. I studied 24/7 from books and the internet; central places were Aish HaTorah, and Chabad online, which are founts of knowledge in their outreach, as well as many many many books. I also had the blissfully ignorant chutzpah to go onto message boards and debate other Jews, and Christians; I learned a lot- scrambling to research my proofs, and from wonderfully learned Jewish minds. If I had essential questions I asked the Aish rabbi. Later on, my own rabbi guided me.

And, hey, aren't I the perfect person to do the convert thing? At my old shul, the rabbi used to steer every new possibility and inquiring potential my way, during oneg or kiddush. Can't say I made much of a difference. I welcomed them and their questions, offered help, and then rarely saw them until they had converted. And then I rarely saw them afterwards. I think that my feeling of disappointment was personal- it would have been nice to have more kindred spirits. And there was one....but that's a story for another day.

Suffice it to say that "Rivka" was hungry for some knowledge. And I think that it is more than a truism, that "more than the calf wants to suck, the cow wants to suckle". I find this saying peculiarly Jewish. Especially fitting, I think, amongst learned Jews. And to me, "learned" encompasses anyone who has a sustained interest in living Jewishly. It is true, I have found, that we can learn from everyone. But even more so, there are Jews out there dying to share. I love it.

Well, "Rivka" was divorced at 26 and raised 2 children. Awesome. Through work, online, she met someone in Southern California, who happens to be an Orthodox pulpit rabbi, and a year later they met and are in love. "Rivka" asserts that her desire for conversion has less to do with him and more to do with discovering that she has a Jewish soul. I believe her. But she would like to push the conversion through, because she wants to be with him. This is a woman who has waited a couple of decades for her bashert and both are convinced that it is, indeed, bashert. And they are no spring chickens!

When she was down in the area around LA, she went to her honey's shul, met the congregants, even met his friends. They think quite highly of her, and already have "Rivka" and her rabbi honey married. My feeling is that they are gonna push for this match. He knows that she is converting Conservative, because it's a Jew wasteland here, relatively speaking (and one reason I went to LA to convert). But I forgot to tell her that Conservative conversions are not recognised by O. I forgot because I don't think of it. I think about her earnestness and sincerity. Her Jewish soul. Yet I do think she should convert O simply because it would make her life (and his) a whole lot easier; but even more so, I think that given the option, that that would be her choice. I will have to tell her soon. How could I forget??? I was so busy telling her about halacha and aggadah and Shabbat and Pesach and kashrut, etc., etc. Ya think I would have remembered something so essential!

She spoke about her delight in this relationship and how it warms her heart, for the first time in her life. She has waited a long time....I was married a long time and when the roof fell in, it was easy for him to move on, he who didn't even care whether G-d existed or not, while I had found G-d and Judaism, so that among other concerns, I could no longer stay in the marriage. And who does she end up with? A devout, learned Jew who asked her where she would like to live, in the future, and she says "Jerusalem" and he agrees to it. Well, now it is the hills of Galilee.

And I find it a kind of weird, perhaps, poetic justice, or irony, or cosmic joke, or challenge, or whatever...that the things that would be a dream for me if I dreamed, are the things that she is this close to possessing, some of which she doesn't even care about (like being in LA).

I miss LA. I was home. It was so full of possibility. Hell, if I was going to remarry I would want someone who loved kindness and who was learned and devout. Passionately so. Preferably someone in LA. And who would be willing to move to Israel even if we didn't. It speaks to my desire and a whole lot of cherishing. Lately, I have encountered people who have recently travelled to LA or are living the life I miss and still long for. A life that is just a blip on their radar, but which means everything to me. I am reminded so much of what I have lost and what I miss so much by the dreams that others seem to be living in my stead. Lately everyone seems to embody my dream. It is painful. I don't get it. It seems a cruel joke.

Envy sucks. Bigtime.

"Rivka's" dreams, her earnestness, the vision and reality of bashert, his delight in her, and gratitude, beyond my own pain, possess a tenderness and a poignancy that cannot be ignored. Oh, I would wish that for everyone! There is such bittersweetness in waiting so long for the one that feels like 'home'. I think that some are favoured, but not all. Some of us, I think, perhaps are looking elsewhere and miss our chance. Or there are other reasons, which I can't even guess at.

I don't know why G-d would place this big honking portrait of true love, and desire and dream before me. What? What? What? Is it a test, a challenge, some spiritual obstacle?! I am clueless.

But I have learned a couple of things: 1) Everyone has their "time". A time for joy, a time for sorrow, a time for life and a time for death- a time for suffering- their time- a time which belongs solely to them. And I have my "time". Everything comes to you sooner or later. Just don't confuse it with anyone else's time. They are mutually exclusive.

2) Humility means to know your place. And that fits with one's own time.
Her life is hers, not mine. My place in the scheme of things cannot be inhabited by anyone else and vice-versa. This, I do believe. Of course, I still feel like the fates are sticking it to me- rubbing my nose in lost and forbidden dreams and mucho grieving. Go figure.

As "Rivka" spoke I received a sense of someone who danced along the edge of shadows and light. Where I can be prosaic about challenges, and what that means in terms of 'releasing the sparks', she spoke in terms of praying to G-d to send dreams to those she felt bound to, to show them harmony and unity- to influence them. I learned something. And my feeling is that she is not going to care about the whys of halacha very much, or any intellectual permutations, yet she will create a Jewish home with a load of love. She will make it sacred, and bring to it delight.

Envy sucks.

"Once you choose, your life becomes not your own." This is my life. Other people live my dreams and my desires. But it is not my life. My life is whatever G-d chooses it to be. When I first laid tefillin, though I loved the shel rosh (the piece for the head)- I felt I was wearing a coronet- to wrap my arm so tightly- well, I struggled for about a year. I felt bound to G-d, as was all my power, and I wasn't consenting to it! For a long while there was not much difference between me and a wild animal, because that leather binding agitated me like crazy- it made me skittish. There was something about such a huge level of commitment, such an enormous sense of naked intimacy in that binding, and even more so, for me, of acknowledgement, that placed the literal fear of G-d in me, and I mean fundamental yirah, not awe, but unadulterated fear.

Before that, I also had the misfortune to feel like Isaac bound upon the altar, suffering enormous psychological trauma, leaving a chasm of silence within me that can never be breached. It was a loss of innocence that is unspeakable. I understand what that parsha means, why there is a gorgeous midrash about the angels in heaven weeping at Isaac's ordeal and their tears washing his eyes and blinding him, and how he could see, it was intimated, beyond human sight. I understand it completely. The Torah is remarkable for its deepest and gravest understanding of human suffering and attempted annihilation. And afterwards, the Torah shows so starkly, how Isaac's silence speaks volumes. With Isaac, there are no words that could ever matter. Torah understands and honours those who have been violated, as does the midrash.

I feel bound to a life that is not my own, but belongs to G-d. I feel bound to the covenant I made with G-d when I became a Jewess. I feel bound to tradition and halacha and the path that G-d has chosen for me, yet also bound by my own free will and reason and sense of integrity, which all round, makes for an uncomfortable life. To top it off, I honestly don't feel it is within my purview, that which happens to me. I am carried along, transported by a life that somehow, for the time being, in some way needs me even if I don't know how. It may not even be a life of my choosing, but this much I do know- that with all my envy and grief and horror and desire, it is true Life. And that is worth everything to me.

Born Jew or Jew-by-choice. Once we choose, our life no longer belongs to us.

But did I mention that envy sucks?

Prayer and The Vengeance Demon

I cannot pray.

I was watching an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer yesterday. In it, the Scoobies were having a birthday party for Buffy. What they did not know was that a Vengeance Demon had cursed them, compelling them to stay together inside until they died. If they attempted to head for the door they were not able. They were stuck. Even with the greatest effort, with the greatest intent and will and desire, even when knowing they were stuck, they could not move. They could go upstairs and downstairs and all around the house, but could not manage the smallest gesture needed to orient them to the door. When they tried to talk about it, it was as if their beings were encased in molasses, the effort was so great to break even the smallest aspect of the spell. Paralysis would set in.

And that sums up my current life and my prayer life.

I am frustrated.

We preface the Amidah with, "Open my mouth, O Lord, and my lips will proclaim Your praise".I never understood what this meant until now. I used to think it was rather ridiculous. Of course prayer is easy! What could possibly hamper my heart and my soul, my will and my speech- to pray to G-d is unalloyed joy! In prayer, I was carried along on wings, gliding along a ribbon of words, swooping over and diving into a river of words, an ocean of words, becoming skylark, singing like the skylarks sing, wheeling, descending and ascending.

And now I try to move in a sea of glue. My mind is encased in amber, and I am running up and down within, and around and around. I have difficulty concentrating, but if I make a real effort, I can focus. But then davenning Shacharit becomes overwhelming. I anticipate all the words before me. If I start from the beginning, I am looking at the Sargasso Sea. How to break the curse?

Well, there are many opinions, or ways, some suggested by tradition. The standard response to my dilemma would be that we are obligated to daven 3 times a day, no matter what. On the outside edge of this response are those who think that merely saying the words, making sounds, is enough-your obligation is fulfilled. A variation on this theme is to daven all the words and perhaps something will happen, even if you are not connecting; at least there is anticipation. Another suggestion is to daven the important parts. There is even an abbreviated version of the Amidah for those who haven't the time to do the whole thing. Or one could work with a variation on the morning prayers- there is Sim Shalom(C), Gates of Prayer (Reform), the Artscroll Edition (O), Kol Haneshama (Reconstructionist), a siddur with commentary by Rabbi SR Hirsch, and the Hasidic siddur, all of which I own and have used (unfortunately they all are presently in storage except Sim Shalom). There are also Tehillim (Psalms). All-in-all a vast and fertile well of words, abounding with possibility. Yet, I cannot move towards the door.

The Vengeance Demon is summoned by her old VD pal, Anya. She refuses to break the spell. Until she realises that she cannot leave either! Now that she is inside, she is trapped as well. She knows that in order to release herself, she must release them. Instantly, she waves her arms and says, "Okay, you can all leave now". Huh???? It was so easy! No fulsome incantations? No disgusting admixture of "eye of newt and tongue of gerbil"?

I somehow do not think that there is a single magic key to breaking the spell- that is for fairy tales and TV shows. Some of the early Hasidim would actually spend an hour in meditation just preparing for prayer, fulfilling the words, "Open my mouth, O Lord, and my lips will proclaim Your praise". There is a story told of the Baal Shem Tov, who refused to enter a particular synagogue. When asked why, he said it was "too crowded". "But", pointed out the people, "there are plenty of seats". "No, it is too crowded with prayers, from floor to ceiling- dead prayers, stale prayers, prayers of habit".

Then along comes Nachman of Breslov, another great Hasidic master, who enjoins Jews to go out into the fields and just talk with G-d- out loud. In this marvelous little book, The Empty Chair, he advises:

As often as you can, take a trip out to the fields to pray. All the grasses will join you. They will enter your prayers and give you strength to sing praises to God.

Okay, I get the picture. Prayer by rote is less than useless. Kavannah is essential. How to reconcile, then, all the facets of this Jewish picture? I have so much choice. Lately, I have found that even though I can be less than disciplined, there is something to the standard exhortation to fulfill the obligation of prayer, though as I understand it, it is not from the Torah (it is a Rabbinic injunction). Often, I think, the Sages were wise and divinely inspired. So, discipline is good and worth the effort. Davenning every day informs my Jewishness and gives sacred structure to my life.

Yet, I think that it is better to speak the words with at least an anticipation that something will happen. I have tried rote, just to fulfill the obligation, but I find myself incapable of an act that seems so unnatural to me. If I add hope to it, that something will happen, I am making the effort. Even prayer at its most fundamental- largely by rote, shows the davenner is making an effort. But I think being aware that something changes when we pray enriches even the dreariest moments with possibility.

Some days, I can barely speak in prayer. Some days I am mute. Some days all I can say, besides the Shema, is "help". Other days, I pray a passage from another Breslov book, The Gentle Weapon. I have walked in the fields and talked to G-d, and cried in my room to G-d. I have found some comfort in Tehillim in the middle of the night. Sometimes, I am aware that simply one's being is a prayer, if it is turned towards or back to G-d. I have davenned all of the morning service for fairly long stretches. I have the least trouble davenning when I am in a minyan, which for the moment, is not available to me on weekdays. At Shabbat services, I have no problems focussing. G-d is getting a scattershot of prayer from me- sometimes structured, sometimes chaotic, but never, I realise, weak or indifferent, and always- me. So, I guess that, even within this petrified world I seem to inhabit, I am doing something besides banging noisily against the bars.

I want to have light bones, hollow bones; I want to sing. The only thing I have not been able to accomplish yet is to find the words or action to break the curse- the emotional and psychological paralysis that makes my prayer and my life seem so heavy and sluggish. I know the words will be simple. And the act will be simple. As purely as I know that the Vengeance Demon is me.

Temple of Judaism Lite

The other day I was talking with my temporary counsellor. She knew I was not happy here. Part of my difficulty has been in not finding a Jewish community that I can relate to. Actually, it really has more to do with davenning (praying).

I am a davenning fool. At my previous (C)synagogue, I attended morning minyan almost every day. I attended services every Shabbat, both Friday and Saturday and every festival. I complain that the services are too short. The highlight of my life has been the hours I spent davenning barefoot during Yom Kippur at Chabad one year.

I am particularly enamoured of Hasidic philosophy. I remember once reading that everyone is gifted in some manner- some have a gift for davenning, others for studying Torah, and others for tzedakah (charity). And, I would add, some are gifted in chesed (deeds of lovingkindness). Well, I have the gift of davenning. I took to it like a duck to water. The first time I opened the siddur and prayed, I was transported- such extravagant, ravishing poetry.

Many Jews I have known, usually disaffected, have complained that they do not know Hebrew and prayer is meaningless to them, not to mention, boring. I find this hard to comprehend. I daven in English. Perhaps it is as meaningful as one makes it- it all depends on what you bring to it. If you do not bring yourself, then how can you be engaged? If you do not believe that you can connect with G-d, then you are mouthing words to nothing. To a rational person who does not believe in the possibility of connection, indeed, it would seem absurd.

It also requires focus. Strong concentration. This is something that comes naturally to me. Jews have been looking to other religions, other kinds of meditation, to fill the gap in their connection to G-d, and sometimes, to Judaism. I think that the fixed prayers are a genius system for meditation and contemplation. There is a logic to the structure and content. The result can be that you traverse different levels of consciousness until your entire being becomes one of praise and the words do not really matter any longer. You simply become... Praise.

At the synagogue I usually attend here, the rabbi has added niggunim (wordless melodies) in various places after having chopped off almost everything up to Shacharit (morning service). Instead of preparing for the central prayers, the Kriat Sh'ma and the Amidah, after a brief niggun we are plunged right into Shacharit. To me it feels shockingly abrupt. No dipping your toe into the waters- damn the torpedoes!

Adonai passed by, and a great and strong wind rent the mountains, and broke the rocks in pieces before G-d; but G-d was not in the wind; and after the wind, an earthquake; but G-d was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake, a fire; but G-d was not in the fire; and after the fire, a thin voice of silence [ a still, small voice] (I Kings 19:11-12).

The other thing guaranteed, it seems, to leave me in misery, is the rabbi's little moments of guidance. The genius of the fixed prayers is that they provide a structure and encourage and nurture an inward flow- all prayer leads to an inner silence, perhaps directly to that "still small voice" that Eliyahu (Elijah) met. The rabbi, however, will comment on a bit of the Torah portion, or on middot, or on "mindfulness", wherever he sees fit, all the while, pulling me out of either my reaching for G-d, my connecting to G-d, my conversing with G-d, my contemplation of G-d, or my standing mute before G-d- out of the flow. When I am barely through half of the Amidah, another niggun begins. So, often, I feel as if I am back where I started.

I suppose that everyone who davens with kavannah (devout intent) has a singular purpose that meets their needs. In my case, that time davenning helps me to renew and refresh my pursuit of holiness. Cleaving to G-d is a reality. Even when it does not seem to happen, the effort sustains me. It is hard to be a Jew. It is important to drink from the Source in order to live a holy, Jewish life, with purity of heart. Wrestling with G-d and with my own proclivities seems to be my lot in life. I cannot simply sustain myself with affirmations. Nor, I think, can anyone. I come away from services, frustrated , annoyed and disappointed.

Currently, I have this dilemma. There is a temple with more traditional services across town, where sometimes, the davenning makes me feel at home. The rest of the time, I have to move several times because of all the talking. On the other hand, the synagogue I usually attend (Temple of Judaism Lite), provides me with a community I am getting to know- I am not anonymous. Neither satisfies my most fundamental need.

The counsellor said that I should look at what I can bring to it and she is right. However, I have no family, I have no friends here, I have no one and I don't even want to be here. I have no earthly foundation to raise me up and keep me strong- no bedrock of prayer and sacred community to assuage my misery and give me a reason to spread my wings- somewhere I can hang my kippah and call it "home". Without that stability, I feel lost and adrift. The counsellor said that I should not look outside but inside myself- self-reliance. I said, that is not the Jewish way. I am not self-sufficient. Frankly, neither do I think that G-d is enough, though He is the final comfort and hope when all else fails or disappoints. A Jewess without a community striving for holiness is like a limb without a body.

Catherine Madsen sums up my dilemma quite well in a letter of rebuttal to the charges of "art-snob hyperbole" regarding her essay on the watering down of words, Kitsch and Liturgy. Madsen writes:

Arlene Goldbard is, of course, right that working on substantive matters with people we may or may not like is the essence of communal religious life, and that we can do it with or without wholly satisfying liturgy.

....But there's a point Goldbard misses: kitsch, when used publicly and set above criticism, doesn't remain a matter of personal taste. It becomes genuinely demoralizing to certain serious and committed people who badly want to become stronger people and can't manage it on a diet of liturgical mind candy. The operative words of the sentence she takes as quintessential "art-snob hyperbole" are abjectness and humiliation: it's painful when the writers of liturgy consistently heap contempt on our needs and on the intelligence of the people we pray with—even the people we may not like. I call it "the worst humiliation" because the rest of religious life really is full of honor and purpose; where is the capacity of new liturgical writing for honor and purpose?

I am wrestling with the question of "should I leave or should I stay"? In addition, I know the rabbi is trying to bring disaffected Jews back to the fold, and is succeeding in terms of numbers. One person stated that she loved the liturgy because it was not "intimidating". He is using the tools of Jewish Renewal mixed with simple Hasidic philosophy as a framework. And yet, there is no heart to it, I feel. It seems a dish served cold, and the elaborate and demanding sumptuousness of Jewish thought and questioning has been diluted into what I think of as "Judaism Lite". If water does seek its own level, then, currently, I am wracked with thirst. Moreover, to paraphrase the wondrous Auntie Mame, it seems to me that "Judaism is a banquet and we poor suckers are starving to death".

At Long Last....Barefoot

I have been dying for a place to write for quite a long time. I considered creating a website, which was a lot of work, before I stumbled upon the world of blogs. Today I read some by other Jews and I wondered what makes us all desire to post publicly.

In my case, I have created websites before, where I have managed groups concerning a certain issue (irrelevant here). But this feels different, a little more intimidating. Because the one great love in my life is Judaism. And the one great sorrow of my life has been in recently finding myself all alone in my passions and enthusiasm. I don't think there is anything in the world that comes close to the way I feel about my faith- and my love -hate relationship with all things Jewish.

I feel like a rare, exotic bird amongst the Jewish blogs. I am female, I affiliate with the Conservative movement, I am "mature", I wear tallit and lay tefillin, and I am a convert. I lack the history of born Jews, the memories, yet neither do I carry any Jewish baggage. Everything is new to me, all the time; it is fresh. I originally fell in love with Judaism and with Torah and with Jews. Now, I have a love-hate relationship with synagogues. Indeed, I have a love-annoyed and frustrated relationship with my fellow Jews. My love for Torah, on the other hand, ever increases.

Why am I posting? Because there is no one I can talk to in depth. No one to share my discoveries with, and my conundrums. I moved from my community out of necessity and for the time being find myself without that sense of "home" that my previous life provided me- I have not been able to find a place of sanctuary. I am posting because I just want to talk about what I love most and what brings me the most distress.

I call myself the "Barefoot Jewess" because my very first time davenning (praying) on Yom Kippur was at a Chabad House in Los Angeles. I davenned barefoot. It seemed fitting.