Factor Y and X(tian)

Y is my co-worker in retail. Right now, it's only him and me holding down the fort, without the luxury of at least 2 others to spell and support us. Which means we face good fortune and misfortune together, suffer the slings and arrows of the most well-shod but ill-bred, mean-spirited customers this side of the Rockies, and generally need to depend on each other, or kill each other. We are looking at some nasty behaviour in the time to come, the holiday (aka, "Christmas") season. Only Y and me.

"Y" is a born again Christian, I guess. He is a Baptist. He was an alcoholic who was saved. Sixteen years ago. Y has his quirks, but he's mature, responsible and caring and unabashed about his being saved.

How do we help each other through these extremely trying retail times? It sounds funny, to talk about the largest part of our lives spent serving others, "trying". As if retail weren't a bitch? It can be fun, but fun isn't enough; nor is the drama that attaches to it, the fires needed to be put out, all the while with a smile. I have never met so many unhappy, vicious, soulless people in my life, in one of the richest cities in the country; they aren't having a bad day, they are having a bad century, and they want to share it with you.

As much as you want to sympathise with customers, at some point you are sympathising with crybabies, people from 20 to 80; now that is a challenge. I really just want to write them off, but I was instilled with manners, and Judaism taught me not to shame people in public. Yeesh. I want to be Machiavelli laced with Dorothy Parker. I took a fun test once and and my dark side evoked Darth Vader, not Han Solo, or Princess Leia or Luke Skywalker. Yeah. I want to be Darth Vader. On some level, I am Darth Vader. Get out of my way or I'll bring you down. Kill you.

It bugs me that I can't do it. Blame it on G-d. Or some sensibility that cuts me off at the mouth. Not that I'm even remotely quick off the mark, but I would be so willing to learn at the feet of a master mouth. I would make an art of it and a life's work. But then, maybe I would not survive and die a drunk in some literary salon, like Dorothy Parker.

Instead, I've got "Y". We offer an old-fashioned service in a ratrace world. When those worlds clash, the rats try to crush everyone in their path, which means, us. Y got so angry at the talkback, that he took his break and kicked an entire container of floor cleaner all over the back room, the lid being loose. He felt better but I didn't, though I could totally sympathise with having to deal with whining, abusive 60 year olds.

I told him it gets me distressed, when someone is that violent. He went home and came back the next morning with the insight that he was afraid of losing his job. The guy is a total gem, and the best at what he does, I told him so, and emphasised that right now we have leverage cause if we go, that store goes down. But more so I told him about the past couple of years, of living below poverty level, of fearing that I'd end up on welfare, or on the street, and somehow making it to this point, nevertheless. I am no longer afraid, I certainly am not afraid of losing my job. I have been blessed by angels, from online, and from the non-virtual world, loving friends, who kept me going. Frankly, welfare doesn't seem that scary to me, either. I have been with the homeless and discovered that there is not that much difference between them and me. Whether I am rich or poor.

But most of all, Y and I have G-d in common; he talks about G-d more than Jesus. Do I perceive G-d's hand in everything that happens to me? Oh, yeah. And I told him so. Sometimes those are the only words that one needs to hear, from another who's been through a lot, to raise themselves up back beyond fear. I, personally, do not see Jesus saving anyone, but I keep quiet. Y has opinions about the role of men and women that I don't share. I haven't really said anything controversial yet, except to mention the times for his break. But what we do have in common is a desire for shalom, even though we may use different words for it. And we're willing to work to get there, carrying each other.

Cross Currents

I have a job in retail now. Not a lot of money but enough to keep me off welfare. I am grateful. It's also something I love to do, in retail, educating, selling. I don't have to lie (I couldn't) and I don't have to dissemble (I wouldn't). The product is worthy of praise. And so I praise and sell and perhaps, bring a little bit of pleasure and connection into people's lives.

The hours are long. I have no life other than work (not my choice) and the day-to-day chores of living. Still, it's work I enjoy, though I pray for a more balanced life. A retail life means insane hours, no social whirl, and for me, no Shabbat, and rarely, anything Jewishly communal. I can't begin to say how much I envy every blogger who has the luxury to argue the minutiae of Jewish Law or mourn the state of their shul (synagogue). I'm still dreaming of obtaining my own sovereign space, where I can live a more disciplined and more expansive Jewish life.

It's funny. I had great dreams, when I became a Jew. I had amazingly vivid, real dreams as well, of the woven colours of the sanctuary, of its beauty in the desert, and the shelter of that beauty, when I walked into that tent. I had dreams of Israel, of one day living there, rather like the ending of the film, "Damaged", in some exotic place, but with a happy ending.

I had dreams of community.

Funny. Those dreams did not come true.

When I started this blog, I was so involved in "Wading Through a Sea of Torah and Jews". I did wade, and it was a hard slog, reading so much vitriol from another stream of Judaism, being shocked and appalled, and feeling like I was fighting the tide and yet still trying to surf it, to understand. And I have come to the understanding that there are different worlds within Judaism, and clearly, never the twain shall meet. Well, bummer. There goes part of the weft.

But in the long run, I find it just doesn't make that much difference to the life I lead. If Judaism is about community, then I have found very little, here. That is not to say that anyone or anything is at fault, as much it seems that yes, my shul is rather lacking in kindness for the single and alone, and yes, in order to live, I must work on Shabbat and against the Jewish calendar.

So, where does that fit into the Jewish way of life?

Because this is my Jewish life: hastening for the bus and saying the Shema on the way. Sitting on the bus at other times and reading morning prayers. Being too tired after Shabbat to read Torah, yet thinking of reading Torah, sometimes longing to read it. Recognising with every Shabbat that I am not observing Shabbat except for lighting candles and sometimes, not writing (for myself). Once in a while, coming home after sundown on Shabbat, I sing "Shalom Aleichem", and imagine angels accompanying me on my way. I have not bowed to the Sabbath Queen for over a year.

Rest? So, not spiritual, these days. Last month I missed cooking, with my shul companions, for the homeless, because I was working, and I think about it. All of these things, among so many others, I find selfish. I miss them. I long for them. I want them back. I want my very Jewish life back.

Instead, every day is a struggle to practise Jewishly. Not to stay Jewish, which is a foregone conclusion, but to do what Jews do- not only ethically, but ritually, and in my most desperate dreams, communally.

Today, a day off from work, I travelled to a bookstore, just to find a lot of silliness about Kaballah, and very little relevant about Judaism. Actually, I discovered a book on Buddhist wisdom that spoke to me, while I was looking for a pocket Torah.

I find that secular life, in this particular place, especially, demands my time for coin. My creative life has become a pish-tush. I am indoctrinated by people at the top to believe that the company is worthy of devotion and yet I don't buy it and I don't think so. They flatter and they invite me to believe. I realise that the words of those devoted to the company and its glorious leader are empty words, meaningless, and it just makes me feel sad. Neither can I subscribe.

In the midst of all these currents that cross, which is the one for me?

I have come to this conclusion: that where I am is where I am. For some reason, this is it. I used to have this fantasy that having been "chosen", that that meant special things for me- like a copacetic Jewish community and an opportunity for me to practise Judaism in a big way. I was so wrong.

I don't recall now, what it is exactly that G-d promised me. And now I think, perhaps, not even a place where I would not be alone as a Jew. I feel kind of like a Christian, where it's just me and G-d. Maybe it's my fault. Maybe it's due to my choices. Maybe it's something else.

I used to think that it was so weird that G-d would lead me to Him, that He would point the way to Judaism, that that way would be wickedly difficult, and then, afterwards, the way would continue to be fraught with challenges so simplistic compared to the erudite yet totally irrelevant (to me) debates I read on blog pages.
Now, I can't help but mourn the life I hoped for. And yet, here I am with the little I have, with something. Perhaps that is all I have. Perhaps, for me, that is all that there is. I don't know anymore.

Yet, it seems surprisingly great. And, as if, there is a road less travelled, and never talked about, or perhaps, rarely known, in Judaism.

Sometimes, when clearly, according to Jewish standards, I have little, I feel like I have it all. I just don't get it.