What a Mensch!

Since it is already a bit late tonight, I just wanted to take the time to give overdue credit where overdue credit is due. As the reflective Days of Awe are now in our rearview, I would like to thank my mother. Please don’t get the wrong idea here. This is not an ultimate “thank you for everything, mom” post. That would be a much longer, heavier, and thoughtful undertaking. 

I would like to thank my mother for being so persistent in the face of insurmountable odds. What am I talking about? Well…raising children Jewishly in my area of Upstate New York was an interesting experience. By interesting I mean that there really weren’t very many Jews at all. I remember many grade school conversations that went something like this:

Classmate: So, do you speak Jewish?

Me: Jewish isn’t a language. I think you mean Hebrew? 

Classmate: What is that?

Me: It’s the language that you thought was called “Jewish.”

Classmate: Oh, do you speak that during Jewish Christmas, Chanukah, right?

Me: Well, we say prayers on the holid…I have to go.

Classmate: Well, Merry Christmas!

There were many conversations similar to this. Life in the Diaspora, am I right?! Kids were actually always (for the most part) nice, and wanted to find out more information. But, back to mom.

“They better not assign any new work on the High Holy Days this year.” 

This was a sentence that my mother recited verbatim every year right before Rosh Hashanah. She was speaking of some unwritten holy school-wide policy wherein all of the teachers would magically realize that Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur existed, take them into account, and refrain from assigning new work on the days that Jewish people went to schul. Now, for the yearly follow-up quote:

“I can’t believe they are assigning new work on the High Holy Days. I am going to have to call the school.”

And call the school she did–every year without fail. She would complain, and I think she would get some sort of canned answer, and things would never change. As I look back, I find a certain beauty in her sisyphean task of yore. She could have just stopped calling, but she never did. There’s a lesson there somewhere, and something that seems very Jewish about her resolve. 

Just an FYI: my cousins lived about an hour south, and their schools closed for the High Holy Days. 

Anyway, todah rabah mom!

Ho ho ho! Meeerrrry Sukkot…Wait…



What Kol Nidre Did

So, if you ever read the bottom of any of these posts, you will read that I am a singer, and even though I am not doing this professionally anymore, I still find a lot of enjoyment and pleasure in singing around the house or at temple. When I was asked to sing during the Kol Nidre on Erev Yom Kippur, I was immediately excited at the opportunity to get in front of people and sing, as I had been performing for most of my life. 

Ah, Performing. This is where my thinking was askew. I thought that I would be performing for the rest of the temple during the singing of the Kol Nidre toward the beginning of the service of the same name. Little did I know just how disparate this experience would be from any other “singing in front of people” experience I had ever taken part in prior. 

First, let’s delve into my psychology education a bit for a buzzword. Flow. What is it? According to positive psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi (If you make a video of yourself pronouncing that surname and send it to me, I will be impressed. I will also not know if you’re actually correct. So, go ahead!) flow is that feeling you get when you are completely enveloped in an experience. Time often moves slowly, or goes by rather quickly. Action and awareness begin to merge into one, and self-consciousness soars out the window. Flow is achieved when the experience is the reward itself. There is no goal, only the moment. 

Whoa. Yeah. A flow state is incredible, but not always easily attainable. However, when I stood up in front of the bimah at my schul, surrounded by a group of Jews that had come together to pray, I listened for the opening chords of the Kol Nidre. I closed my eyes, and singing started to simply come out of my body. Allow me a quick digression. To be honest…during most of my singing and performing career, I was taught to be prepared and to think about what I was doing at all times. Cognition was often key, and it was usually a somewhat herculean struggle to think about something like where to move during a song, while simultaneously emotionally investing. How would the audience receive the performance? How would the reviews be? When was my next costume change? You get the picture. I never left my body in any sort of metacognitively recognizable way when I was singing for an audience. I was a performer and audience members were the spectators. Self-consciousness was the name of the game as a professional performer.

Back to the schul on Erev Yom Kippur. Again, singing started to flow out of me. I was chanting these ancient Aramaic words, and I felt a sense of connectedness to thousands of years of some indescribable entity. There was a heightened quality to my senses while I became completely lost in the hauntingly beautiful melody and phrasing. I stopped caring about notes, and about that phrasing…about performing. I was not performing at all. I was experiencing something with souls that surrounded me. I was flowing, and it was an experience that might have seemed like the singing of the Kol Nidre for a minute and thirty seconds to some, but felt like a soul changing experience for me. As I eventually sauntered back to my seat, I realized that the sides of my eyes were wet, as though tears had begun to form in some very innermost part of myself. The rest of the service was icing on the cake from that point. 

What brings you into a state of flow? Do you know? If you aren’t sure, I recommend you try engaging in an activity you love for the sheer enjoyment of it. Prayer itself can bring flow, but the mind can easily wander. With the anxieties of life, it is so easy to be distracted from living in the exact moment, but wow, when it happens, it is certainly an experience that does not leave you quickly.

I hope that I can find some level of flow again soon, but if not, I really do hope I get to sing the Kol Nidre again next Yom Kippur. 



A “Schul’s” Errand?

So, I am going to start with a quasi thoughtful post, but don’t always expect this. Sometimes I just might want to talk about how my five-year-old son sings Hineih Mah Tov while he uses the bathroom.

Many Jews have heard cultural Zionist Ahad Ha’am’s famous quote: “More than Jews have kept Shabbat, Shabbat has kept the Jews.” While this seems to be historically true, an article in Forward by Jane Eisner points to the fact that a 2018 poll by Pew Research Center has found that a majority of young Jews claim to have absolutely no religion at all. Some of these individuals, although non-religious, are often extremely proud to be Jews. The question has become–Who will keep Shabbat in the future?

I am going to take a confident leap and assume that I can be considered a “young Jew,” as I come in at age 33, and have a Kindergartner and another little one on the way. As Americans in general become more and more disconnected from “organized religion” (Eisner cites 22.8% as unaffiliated with religion in general), the already small number of Jews are in danger of losing the vitality of connection. 

Let’s be clear. I get it. There are a lot of things going on in the modern world, and most of them take place on a small handheld device that makes bell-ringing noises at us when we don’t pay attention to it. It’s easy to write off the spiritual world when the digital universe is so easily accessible. But as I read about and experience dwindling numbers of Shabbat service-goers on Friday nights, I cannot help but think that young Jews might  need to consider connecting in a profound way. 

Our temple’s rabbi first introduced me to the idea of a temple or synagogue as three things. Younger and more religiously ignorant me would have been so happy to hear this. There exists  the idea of the beit tefilah, or the house of prayer. This is probably what most people think of when they reflect upon religion in general. The beit tefilah encompasses the songs we sing and the beautiful prayerful poems that are recited at a service. Many young moderns might view this as archaic and uselessly ritualistic. Unless you have truly experienced a beautiful service, I would certainly beg to differ. 

Secondly, a schul can be a beit midrash, or a house of study. Even the most unaffiliated of Jews can surely find a wonderful class of interest, or even tiptoe into a Torah study session. In an age when us “young Jews” pay hundreds of thousands of dollars in student loans to study the music of The Beatles and Introduction to Buddhism (guilty!), the value of a general education is surely something that us greener folks can appreciate.

Finally, the synagogue is also a beit knesset, or house of gathering. The schul can be a place where Jews can come together to simply be…together. We can celebrate, nosh, kvell and kvetch. We can embrace life and mourn loss. The importance of human connection cannot be overstated. Face-to-face interaction is certainly a dying form of communication, but as we Jews know, what is seemingly lost can certainly be brought back to life. 

To sum it up, the temple or synagogue can be a lot of things to a lot of different people. I hope that we younger Jews can find a way to utilize our schuls and keep them relevant (and actually open) as we move forward. Try out a Shabbat service on a Friday night. Maybe pick up a Hebrew for beginners book (This one helped me tremendously: Joshua Recommends This!)  

Essentially, it seems that we need to keep Shabbat in some form or fashion in order to ensure that the future is secure. The next generation of children singing Hineih Mah Tov while going number 2 certainly depends on it. 



Shalom and Welcome to my “B’reshit”

This is the first post of my brand spanking new blog. Please subscribe, and pass the word along.

I am a 33 year-old Jewish guy living in Upstate New York. I will try to always remember to capitalize “Upstate,” due to the fact that “Upstate” to me means anything east of Syracuse and north of Albany. Upstate people are proud and super specific about this for no evidence-based reason.

I have a growing family, and I will surely talk a lot about them as I tackle many issues along our journey together. I also hope to get into the podcast game, so look for that in the future

Why do this?

  • I rediscovered (or revived) my own Judaism about a year ago, and would love a platform to connect with other people in a Jewish context.
  • I am very active in the Jewish community in my area, and I want this blog to serve as a haven for conversation, healthy debate, and humor that reaches out beyond the walls of my own schul.

I am actually celebrating becoming a Bar Mitzvah in November of this year. I am doing this 20 years later than most, and preparations, considerations, thoughts, and insights will be shared leading up to that November morning.

Help me make this blog into something special. Some posts will be more serious and research-based than others, while many will be musings or simple thoughts. More than anything, I hope to engage you, the reader, as I schlep my way through this whole online experience. Let’s talk.

More to come,