Barefoot Grump: Kol Ish

Kol Isha: The voice of a woman (considered by the Rabbis of the Talmud to be distracting to men and thus lewd).

I am a connoisseur of voices. I have been one since I was a child when I heard my mother and my father sing. Both possess voices of exceptional beauty. And both can sing on key. I cannot. For me, singing on key is the epitome of grace and the pinnacle of achievement. My father, in fact, was slated for opera but he traded that potential in for a motorcycle and a brief romance with military couriering. I have to admit he looked totally cool on the Harley.

I have been taken by voices ever since my childhood. I adore opera. I swoon at chazzanut. A soft spoken man can knock my socks off. The "rich brown voice" of Ray Davies' Lola is a consummation most devoutly to be wished.

Then there are the people at minyan with the gorgeous and/or distracting voices. Lately, the morning minyan seems to have attracted some lusty singers. In fact, responses have never been so "out there", fervently so, in my estimation. The rabbi seems more ardent, and so do the rest of the regulars. I am thrilled. Not that it was ever bad, but there seems to be new life infused into the responses, and all of it happened since I was away. I am a happy camper.

However...there are 2 issues I face in minyan. One has been the lunatic woman with the operatic voice who does not tone it down. Once a month, people are invited for mincha- maariv including seudah shlishit (third meal) and havdalah on Shabbat at the home of someone who so generously opens their doors to us all and feeds us as well. The food is always fabulous and if you need a minyan and you fear you won't have the numbers, include some nosh and I will be there. When said lunatic chanted to distraction at morning minyan and at services, I gave her the benefit of the doubt. But within the intimacy of the little Shabbat group, it made me go, hmmmmm.

This woman has a voice to shatter glass and she can't seem to control the volume in small groups, or in large groups. Yet, she claims to be a professional singer. But I always know when La Diva has entered the room (fashionably late). And if you think I am being catty I am not; this woman needs help and she subtly poisons any atmosphere she overtakes. But- she has a Voice, she can Read and Chant Hebrew, which in synagogue circles is considered to be Pure Gold. Suffice it to say, I am not seduced by her voice but it surely is distracting, as she meant it to be. Especially at close quarters.

Then there is the case of the most recent member of the minyan. He has a beeyootiful voice. And he is LOUD. Today, you couldn't help but hear his devotion. I swoon and it is distracting, not necessarily in a good way, volume wise. Can we, therefore, call that beauty lewd? Just wondering. Because truly, it is difficult to concentrate when you hit me with Beauty that Compels One to Listen. As far as I know he is not a professional singer. Or ready to lead prayers (yet). But, oh, today, I wished he would tone it down!

There is an older gentleman in his 80's, of whom I have written previously. Let's call him "X". He is not loud, but he extends the response past the rest of us. It is damned pleasant to listen to him- I am carried away. There are others whose voices are less distinct but integral to the chorus. So how come X doesn't distract me, yet those 2 others do? And said guy's voice leads me not down lascivious paths as much as "oh my gosh, what a voice!" paths, away from the voice of G-d. It must be me, I know it.

But hey, let's ban men's voices as well! Especially the loud ones. They distract me. It's a dreaded case of kol ish I tell ya! I demand justice!

Grump, grump, grump.

Update: The Centre of the Universe

In the comments, Z asks: Now would that mean every occurance of the word you purchase or just one occurance? And how costly is this...roughly, if you don't mind my ignorance.

You ask a good question. In fact, how many people get to be involved with the writing of a new sefer in a lifetime? Such an event is fairly rare, as I understand it.

I think that when you buy a word it just means for one occurrence. After much dithering, and much smacking upside the head, I realised that of course the word that really resonates for me is hineni, "Here I am", "I am ready" . This word is so familiar in the Bible. It is especially meaningful for me in relation to Abraham, from the very beginning when he encounters G-d, and through the Akeidah (Binding of Isaac):

To make certain that we know that this is a serious matter, the Torah uses a familiar phrase—Hineni, I am here—to announce that something critical is about to happen in the text. Rashi reminds us that this expression combines both humility and readiness for the task ahead. The word hineni appears several times in the dialogue between Abraham and Isaac, between father and son, as they both face a profound test of faith.

To me, this is a phrase shorn of everything but presence. Or as my friend, L, has taught me, shorn of "the monkey mind".

So, all-in-all I got to kill several birds (or monkeys) with one stone! It can't get any better than this.

As for pricing: to write a good quality sefer takes about $40,000. An entire Book can be had for $5000. Special events, like the plagues, or the Shema, the crossing of the Red Sea, etc, costs $2,500. Not only that, you get a family aliyah when the new sefer is read. Then there's first parsha or last parsha of the Torah, special verses, the first/last word of a book, etc, the name of a person, place or object (like the Burning Bush). In my category, a word costs $54, a triple chai, which for "hineni" turns out to be 3 letters anyway. For, as someone wrote, all the vowels are taken. Heh. A letter costs $18.

When I was talking with the rabbi, he said that there has been an outpouring of love and regard for this gentleman, and the donations have exceeded their expectations. And anyone can contribute: my non-Jewish friend, L, is buying letters for her recently deceased father, her mother, and several people who have helped her. She even got to ascend and add a stroke to the sefer. And ultimately, it is a truly joyful and pleasurable mitzvah!

Update: Thursday, October 28, 2004

Z comments: I'm famous :) Wow, that is all so really cool. Our temple wouldn't allow a non-Jew NEAR the Torah unfortunately so I wonder if they'd let one buy a letter, etc? I have to think they'd let the nuns from the local University, also home to the National Holocaust Center, do this...as they allowed one to give the invocation during an Israel Bonds event...but I digress. It seems we're an anomaly in that we will not let non-Jews touch the Torah for ANY reason.

I've little regard for ideology- I am not sure what it means and what it entails. From what I've read on various J-blogs, it is rife throughout the movements (though I think that is exaggerated); it seems particularly prominent within Orthodoxy, where it seems to be an ongoing point of contention among various factions, if blogs and various websites are an indicator. Perhaps in this case, it all depends on the rabbi. At Temple Om Hadash, the previous rabbi was traditional and women did not participate. He basically got turfed out in a bitterly divisive coup. I remember that one time, I touched the Torah with my fingers and he gave me a thunderous look. Wow! I was so taken aback! I slouched back to my chair and it took me a long time to get up the nerve to touch it with a naked hand again anywhere else.

My friend, L, is now buying a word for 2 women who cared for her cat and took care of her home, while she was away after her father's death. We're also buying a letter for a woman who is going to be 98 this Shabbat! What they all have in common is that are Jewish. Only L is not. The rabbi never gave an indication that this was not done and was pleased that she had ascended to "inscribe" a letter. In fact, L has attended services with me once in while, chows down at kiddush, and learns in some of the rabbi's classes even though she is not a member. She is like a sister to me, and the rabbi knows that and treats her accordingly, I think. We're like an intermarried couple, in a sense, and she is definitely treated like an honorary Jew by those who know her ( she really does a lot of mitzvot, btw).

My rabbi does not strike me as an ideologue and he is always drawing people closer to the Torah. To have the whole world participate and celebrate in the scribing of a new sefer Torah, I think, could only draw all nations closer to it.

The Centre of the Universe

Today our temple (ok, it's my old place, but for the moment it is mine) held a simcha for inscribing the first panel of B'reishit (Genesis) in the sefer Torah commissioned in memory of a most wonderful gentleman. It was a momentous occasion. Of course, the simcha included the commissioning of the new sefer as well. I don't know how often this happens, but I do know that the labour is expensive and the occasion special. I was so disappointed because I missed the speeches and a large part of the scribe's informative talk on the mechanics of Torah calligraphy. The only facts I caught, besides noting his looooooooong greying beard, were that if there is iron in the ink, the lettering will turn red over time, and that the key to inscribing a sefer is patience.

Later we all, children and adults alike, got to ascend the stage and place our hand over the scribe's hand as he filled in the letters- each of us getting a single stroke. Too cool!!! And, of course, each of us has the opportunity, by buying a letter, phrases, parshas, etc., to fulfill the mitzvah of writing our own sefer Torah. I know of one gentleman who just bought "honour thy father and thy mother" from the Ten Utterances- wow! He said it was in honour of his deceased parents. I can't imagine such love and reverence for one's parents. He is such a blessing to them as they were to him, even though he felt that there was never enough he could do to honour them.

My friend L complained about people in front of her who were yakking . We remarked on the fact that at Simchat Torah more people were in the Social Hall than in the pews and on the aisles dancing with the Torah. In fact, I felt that the whole hakafot deal was perceived as a "quaint Jewish custom", with a lot of people holding back. And I am beginning to believe, from reading various J blogs that this may be true for Jews across the spectrum, though not so much "quaint" as a custom without meaning. If the reported drunkenness is anything to go by. L , who is not a Jew, said that if this is the way Jews comport themselves on such an occasion (new sefer), then we are in deep trouble. Mind you, she was having a bad day; she has an ear infection and was uncharacteristically cranky.

I guess I was too lost in the moment to notice. I am buying a word and had a hard time deciding. I also had a hard time deciding on whom to honour. I love the opportunity to honour others, especially those who have moved or inspired me. It occurs to me that tangible honours are also an easy avenue for someone to express their feelings for people who touch our lives, as we tend to be rather shy in expressing what someone means to us. I finally chose a gentleman in his 80's who still reads Torah at morning minyan and also leads davenning (duh, what took me so long???); I think the absolute world of him and it makes me nuts that I shall never be able to reach the heights in Torah reading that he has climbed. Interestingly, he refuses to add the Matriarchs to the Amidah at morning minyan, yet he is kindness and tolerance itself where the tallited and tefillined me is concerned. I am guessing he was skeptical at first. Luckily I had no idea, because he's a total class act, a mensch of the first order. Now I don't think there is much doubt in his mind as to my sincerity. Sometimes it pays to be clueless. Oh, I do want to be like him when I grow up!

The other honoree will be a kid who is becoming bar mitzvah in a couple of weeks. The landlady's kid. I don't even like him (or her). But I thought it was fitting- the bar mitzvah and the older gentleman...l'dor va dor, etc. What better connection. And it honours Torah and those who are linked with Torah in any way. I am pleased (can't imagine the kid will be though!).

Then, of course, I had to choose The Word. I thought of ohr because light is everything to me. Yet....I finally settled on Akeidah. Isaac's name is laughter. This may sound cryptic, but I understand it- the Akeidah which I lived and is central to my Jewish experience, and the laughter which seems so paradoxical given Isaac's experience. I think that when I look back on my life, I shall remember the Akeidah more than anything else. If I cannot choose that word, then I will settle for some variation of laughter. Or maybe ger, cause I have met a lot of strangers. This is getting complicated! I wish I were rich!

As for the simcha? It is funny. People may not have necessarily seemed as if the occasion touched them. And yet, there was joy and a lot of smiling faces. And the procession ascending to join one's hand with the scribe's hand and make a stroke to fill in a holy word said it all. At that moment, we were at the centre of the universe. Crossing the Sea of Reeds. Together.

Sleepless in Yisrael

This is beyond exciting!

My (previous) synagogue is doing one of those solidarity mega missions to Israel, California branch. This is one of those concerted efforts by several synagogues within all movements in California to let Israelis know that they are not alone. And itineraries are mix-and-match, so you don't have to stay with your own group all of the time. This is a dream come true for me. In more mundane but not insignificant terms, I like the rabbi. I know the people. Being with this synagogue group is familiar and fairly comfortable. Like family (and all that implies). But for me it is all so much more than that.

I attended an orientation meeting today and even found a shidduch (match) for a roommate- the teen daughter of people I know really well who are heavily involved in shul life. In fact, the husband and father chairs the Social Action Committee. His daughter, R, is amazingly earnest in her pursuit of kedusha (holiness) and Jewish study, and wants to be a cantor. If you are single, it is that much harder to take a tour, and that much more expensive- like being penalised, so I am breathing a sigh of relief. All I need to do now is come up wiih the cash. This means dipping into my nest egg- meant as a cushion against disaster or to ease the pangs of future retirement. I haven't fully decided yet. But the idea of going to Israel makes me cry .

The salesperson began by stressing that Israel needs our support (and our money). Well, he hooked me there. Even though I have heard this before. For as much as I need Israel, Israel also needs us. Israel won't be getting too much of my money but it certainly has all of my support and my heart, and (I hope) my physical presence. I have never been there. I argue with myself that this may be the only very fine opportunity I have where all the elements seem so right. It feels like bashert; I have been dreaming about this, longing for it, knowing full well it might not happen, ever. You never know what life might bring tomorrow. I argue with myself that even my little nest egg buffer, in the scheme of things, is really not going to elevate my life materially that much in the future, so why not use it now while I am alive and able? Barring any unforeseen difficulties, I seem hell bent on doing this. My heart is warring still, with my head. I need to let the family know by the end of October, though I would prefer to give an answer soon. All I know for certain is that I want to go to Israel. Well, okay, my entire being desires it- my love "leaps like a gazelle". It's the solid, unadorned truth.

The questions at the meeting were great. Question: considering jet lag, can we start later in the day? This is a week's mission so we don't have much time (alas!). Answer: yes, if all on the bus agree. There was much joking about 10 Jews going 11 different ways and 3 Jews needing 4 buses. Question: what to wear for the end of December? Answer: whatever you're wearing in LA weather. Geez, I don't recall now. If someone from Israel is reading, please let me know. Question: can we walk the streets of Jerusalem the way we could 20 years ago? Answer: No. It is best to not take the risk. I was quite disappointed because you don't have to keep to the itinerary, and exploring the old sections of Jerusalem would have been so fantastic. Oh well. Question: What about security? Chances are we will be flying El Al (which makes me feel as secure as is humanly possible). They have also discovered that armed guards on buses just make people more nervous (no kidding?!). It's rather telling that others are worried about security and I am not. I think it's because they have much to live for and perhaps at the moment I don't feel that way.

One of the questions aired by our rabbi was whether we can visit synagogues other than the Great Synagogue in Tel Aviv (I am not sure if it was Tel Aviv cause my gorgeous brochures went missing, a whole other story) on Shabbat, as opposed to the "not-so-great" synagogue (heh). The rabbi and I had a little tête à tête about this one. Answer from the salesperson: of course, you can worship where you like. The rabbi mentioned that it was Orthodox. That women sat separately, etc. And I realised that for people like him who have been to Israel time after time, and lived there, that this would be old hat. I told him it was all new to me and that I wanted to experience things I hadn't before*. Also, "when in Rome....etc". Hey, I can handle the separation thing- just not for a lifetime. By the way, my best friend L asked why it was called a "great" synagogue; I will check into it, but for the time being we call it "The Great Big Synagogue", because we imagine that its size is the salient factor. My friend asks good questions.

There were questions about family rates. I asked about the single rate and that was a bit complicated. There was a question about the kosher meals, cause we all meet, all movements, for meals. Too cool!!!! It's such a great time to shmooze and to get to know others. Maybe wander off with others as well. I know that people tend to be insular, and stay comfortable with their own family and friends, but ya never know when you might find an adventurous, curious, open to anything sort. I am optimistic. Anything is possible! Question: will this mission involve asking for a huge donation. Wow! I had no idea! I guess it is fair, but I don't have that kind of dough. Answer: no. Though fuel surcharges are a problem. Frankly, I am not that interested in staying in a 5 star hotel (though I may get used to it!), which costs mucho bucks, as much as just being in Israel. But I can understand that for older people the luxury aspect might be a draw. Even I wish sometimes that I were 20 again, when I had the stamina and enthusiasm and my body did not groan for the comforts of home. Nevertheless, I imagine myself sleepless in Israel for the entire length of my stay. I somehow think I would not care too much about being awake.

One year, here in LA, I attended an outdoor festival on the CSUN campus. This is what I remember: my friend L and I were sitting on the crest of a hill, shaded by palms. Neshama Carlebach had been playing down below. I heard the strains of "Am Yisrael Chai". A lot of people began dancing on the lawn, some waving the Israeli flag; some wrapped in it. The music continued at an increasingly fervent pace as did the dancers, swirling into tighter and tighter circles. Such joy. And I knew I was home.

And so, I think that I will soon be going home. Really and truly.

~~~~~~~

I have been privileged to attend minyan almost every day. When we recite the prayer for Israel, though I read the English with kavannah, I also add my own words: Please bring shalom and healing to Israel. Spread over it Your shelter of peace. And I imagine all of Israel, all of her families, cloaked in G-d's tallit.

Am Yisrael Chai!

* An aside: Rebbe Soul has the most affecting version of Kaddish (click on "Hear the Music"). He recorded recitals of Kaddish in Israel and added them to the soundtrack. Someone I know at temple came to say Kaddish for his father and told me he played this version endlessly when he was driving.

Proud Dunce

Or, Heaven Is the Home of the Hearts*


Did you ever have a love affair with a way of life, with a community? A great romance?

No, I bet you you didn't. When I was talking with my counsellor the day before I left for LA, I found myself telling her of my grand romance with this previous Jewish community and congregation. And I realised that, indeed, for me, it was a love affair- both love and hate mind you- but ever engaging and drenched in commitment.

I don't know if this is a once in a lifetime thing, but every time anyone mentions or expresses vision or possibility for the future of this place, my senses tingle and I become alive to possibility. I don't know why. One would think that any congregation/Jewish community would do. But I suspect that not every community is, as they say in the social science world, a "good fit". I'm guessing that it's the people. I'm guessing there is such a thing as bashert. Sometimes I feel like the Richard Dreyfuss character in Close Encounters of the Third Kind, compelled towards a vision and a future he barely understands, until he gets there.

There is a woman I met here last year, a friend of my friend's. She plays the harp in hospices. She left a congregation in Arizona, and her rav, to be closer to her grown children. It was a sacrifice. She talked about how blessed she was, how happy she was, in that time. It is different now, without that community and that rav, but her soul shines strongly, nevertheless. Her children are the compensation.

I find it interesting that people think that there is an easy answer to loneliness or dashed dreams or to loss or disappointment. They think that anything can be a substitute. They forget the process. They forget or perhaps do not know what it is like to mourn. Or to be torn from family. And I do mean, "torn". And I do mean "family". Tearing leaves deep wounds. People know what it is to miss their family. Yet, religion seems to provide the easy answer, or the glib solution or balm- it can be a slick palliative. Basically the answer comes down to making lemonade from lemons, no matter how it is phrased- in Hasidic terms, one would say wherever you are, bring joy to it. Or, conversely, in a kind of stern, bolt of divine lightning from the sky kind of way, the words of G-d are wielded by worshippers of Thor in a way that is supposed to mask their ignorance and hardness of heart- their inability to empathise. In other words, I get scripture thrown at me, and gee, I thought only some Christians did that. You learn something new every day.

I have recently encountered a paucity of imagination and heart, wrapped in the warm fuzzy certainty of religious dictum, with a soupçon of amateur psychobabble thrown in. Right now, I am thinking that the Book of Job is the most genius creation in Judaism. If only people could hear themselves, free thinkers and conformists alike. My non-Jewish friend pointed out to me yesterday that people can be more vicious when they are "religious" and I sadly admit that that has been my experience so far. In the secular world, you get your general lack of nicety, but in the religious world, the hubris and ignorance can be astounding; it seems that religion gives some a licence to kill (metaphorically speaking). Neither had I encountered so many deeply disturbed people until I entered the religious world. I guess, in a sense, part of this post is not about Jews but about religion in general. And in the Jewish world the crazies and not-so-crazy are alive and kicking, and this Renegade Rebbetzin sounds as if she has some stories to tell.

Did I mention that I had been on the board of my previous synagogue? Well, you would have to be there to understand how being somewhat in the limelight draws the strange. I'm thinking that blogging is not that different. It gives some people licence to raise a righteous religious banner, that has nothing to do with life or real life. Torah becomes a bunch of words thrown scattershot in my face. Christian fundamentalist déjà vu all over again, with a Jewish twist.

Being on the board of a shul (like blogging about religion and religious experience) is also interesting in that if you can withstand that, and keep your faith intact and your cynicism to a minimum, I think that you can withstand anything. The beauty of acting as trustee is in seeing Torah brought to life in the most inhospitable of circumstances- to be suddenly surprised by a tiny sprout amidst an extensive stretch of parched mud, all the while striving for an oasis. Indeed, there are the slackers who retain their positions year after year after year, who lack any sort of vision and it makes you wonder why they continue. Call me naïve but being on the board is largely a deadly thing; I imagine that it is made all the more deadly by the presence of those nearsighted slackers, so I cannot fathom why anyone would actually stay on the board beyond a term or two. Yet there are people there who have "served" beyond a decade. Wow. And if they think that it makes them machers (bigshots), and large in the eyes especially of the congregation, they have another think coming. Perhaps it is the seductive image of power or importance, I dunno. But from the community's jaded perspective, where many have been jilted and left desolate and bitter by religious institutions more often than most lovers, you might as well be adorned with that shaming dunce cap they used to make Jews wear in the Middle Ages. Some people would look quite fetching in one. Yet, rather like those medieval Jews, others on the board manage to turn those silly hats into a badge of pride.

In these times of cloying and deeply oppressive cynicism, idealism is a dirty word. You look stupid unless you are scientificobjectiverationalpragmaticrealistic. Though such a long and grave word surely has a legitimate place, what has that to do with what matters to G-d? And especially, what does that have to do with Torah in terms of vision? The Torah, on one level, is all about idealism. I find it doubly ironic, that those who pride themselves on their religious smarts, in effect, romanticise rationality. I think that rationality is easy, and that faith is hard. Living Torah is even harder, though doable. People talk about idealism as if no one could ever live up to the precepts of Torah, as if no one could live Torah. Better to accept the way of the world, which is also presumed to be the way of most Jews. Better to remark that, like "boys will be boys", we are only human. Better to resign ourselves to the way things are and not expect too much.

And yet I see people all around me living Torah, if the essence of that ideal is to be humanly holy. To be humanly holy is much. And it is happening here, in Los Angeles of all places- the shallow, dirty, loud, narcissistic underbelly of the world, while in the gentle, pristine, audaciously silent hinterlands, where I currently live, they haven't gotten there, as Rosenzweig might say, yet.

The former is also the reason that I'd rather be here. Though at the moment I detest lemonade or, more likely, I haven't found a recipe that works (if there is one). I'd also rather be here because this is my family, a family which strives to be humanly holy, and that fact is as plain to me and as predictable as the rising of the golden light of the California sun; I find succor, joy, and inspiration hanging out with them in this brash and 'nouveau' place. I am also a sucker for true love and my family makes me want to be a better Jew. Wiithout a certain amount of nourishment, you're just another person thirsting in a desert along with all the other wandering, thirsting Jews who have no Moses to strike that rock. I am no Moses. And it's no fun just to maintain and not to aspire.

On my former synagogue board, there are the bright, the bold, the few, who really want to make a difference and live Torah at the same time. They often do not last long. I have spoken with past presidents who would not do it over again if you paid them. I have seen people drop out after a year of frustration. They were no less idealistic than I. Idealists keep Judaism on its toes because they want to change things for the better, because they believe. They bring their hearts to it. Call them holy fools. They are the ones who keep me going in the hard times. They live the life, they strive to better lives, they invite strangers into their homes, they give hope, and elevate the lowly in practical ways and they put themselves on the line. This is not a 'lifestyle', inculcated or otherwise, but a way of life, consciously chosen.

We in the blogosphere get to yack about religion as if we were holy but it's all just a load of words- really easy to do, often empty. And show me a cynic not raised to cultural cynicism but had cynicism thrust upon them and I'll show you a disillusioned idealist. I've been there. I know. I had a choice. Got the Tee shirt for cynicism so now I'm giving idealism a chance. Besides, it's in my nature, and you can never fool Mother nature, ya know. Judaism has allowed me to finally be who I truly am and to express it, with gratitude. For all the pain of striving to live an ideal, I prefer it to the continuous, unremarkable, neverending soul eroding painless little deaths in cynicism and its rational kin. With either one you pay a price. And that's not a rational conclusion. Just wise. So I will continue to strive to wear my Jewish dunce cap proudly, and grow into it, wisely. My choice. And a wise one, in my opinion.

(Update: And as it turns out, my sojourn here has been met with an enormous outpouring of love. I am speechless. Who struck the rock?! I want their name and telephone number!)


* Psychedelic Furs