Because God Said So

One of the biggest disconnects for me as a modern, progressive Jew who studies Torah is the blind obedience so often practiced by darn near everyone. So far, there is a complete unwillingness to stand up to God.

Because I Said So

God: Adam and Eve. I know you didn't have knowledge of right and wrong until you ate from the tree of knowledge, but it was wrong of you to do so. Get out of the Garden of Eden. Oh, and you're going to die.
Adam and Eve: Uh, OK.

God: You're a pretty good guy, the best of every human alive on earth. But I'm disappointed in my own creation and have decided to kill everyone but your immediate family in a horrible flood. Start building a boat and you'll survive.
Noah: Uh, OK.

God:  Haran is your home, and you probably like it here, but you have to pick up and leave now. You, your wife, your goats. get moving.
Abram: Uh, OK.

Why Didn't These Conversations Go Like This?

God: Adam and Eve. I know you didn't have knowledge of right and wrong until you ate from the tree of knowledge, but it was wrong of you to do so. Get out of the Garden of Eden. Oh, and you're going to die.
Adam and Eve: You've got to be kidding. That is completely illogical and unfair.
God: How so?
Adam and Eve: You cannot punish us for doing something we did not know was wrong at the time we did it. How were we supposed to know the rules if you didn't tell us the rules?
God: Good point.
Adam and Eve: So, now we have the knowledge to make good choices. What are the rules?
God: *lists the rules*
Adam and Eve: Thank you. We'll do our best.
God: Excellent. Let me know if you have any questions or get confused.

God: You're a pretty good guy, the best of every human alive on earth. But I'm disappointed in my own creation and have decided to kill everyone but your immediate family in a horrible flood. Start building a boat and you'll survive.
Noah: Wait, what?
God: Look around. Everyone around is doing wicked things. I gave Adam and Eve the rules. No one is following them. So I'm going to flood the Earth and start over with you and your family.
Noah: Do you really think that's a good idea? I'm going to be left alone on the Earth with only my family -- not my mother or father, not my sister, not my friends -- because you killed them. Then what?
God: Then you will worship me.
Noah: LOL. No. Do you want us to hate you? This is how you get people to hate you.
God: What do you suggest?
Noah: Show yourself. Don't just talk to me. Talk to everyone. Tell them why they should be good and what "good" looks like.
God: Maybe you can help and talk to people.
Noah: Deal.

God:  Haran is your home, and you probably like it here, but you have to pick up and leave now. You, your wife, your goats. get moving.
Abram: What about my father? My mother?
God: No. He makes and sells idols, so he can't go to Canaan.
Abram: Did he know he wasn't supposed to do that?
God: Well, no. I haven't given the rules about idol worship yet. But he should have known.
Abram: You keep doing this. You get all mad because we're behaving as you made us. We can't win. And you haven't even told us where we're going or why.
God: I'll tell you later.
Abram: If you were me, would you agree to that?
God: Perhaps not.
Abram: Ok then. Let me in on the plan so I can make a good decision.
God: What if you say no?
Abram: Then we'll keep talking.

Arguing With God: Isn't It a Jewish Tradition?

As a 40-something Jew raised in the American Conservative/Reform traditions, I was always taught that Jews argue with God. We don't just blindly follow meaningless rules, and the final rebellion against Orthodoxy in my family happened long before I came along. 

I was quite surprised to learn as an adult that Jewish fundamentalism existed. That there are Jews who believe the earth is 6,000 years old (5776 in fact). Jews who believe every word of the Torah was dictated to Moses by God. Jews who hold up Abraham as a model because he was obedient. Do what God tells you, without question. Follow the 613 mitzvot (commandments). Why? Because God said so. 

I didn't get it, but as I read the Torah, I see where this vision of God comes from. It's right there in the text.

"Because I Said So!"

As I child, I swore I would never, ever say, "Because I said so!" to my own children. I'd give reasons. And be patient, and not rely blindly on my parental authority to demand obedience.

But as my kids will surely testify, I went there. Many times.

But I never went there first, and when possible, I've given a reason or at least tried to explain why I said so.

• "Because you'll get frostbite without your shoes."
• "Because dirty dishes in your room will attract bugs."
• "Because if you don't get in the car none of us can go home."

I'm not going to lie. When I did say, "Because I said so!" what I was feeling was -- 

• I'm in charge here. 
• I don't have to give you a reason. 
• I am the mother. 
• You are the child. 
• I know so much more than you.
• I have 29 more years of experience in this world.
• I see the big picture you can't even imagine yet. 
• I do not owe you an explanation.
• You owe me obedience.
• I can make you miserable.
• This is for your own good.
• How dare you question me?

None of those are feelings/thoughts you want to have toward your children, and they led to some regrettable actions as well. 

If I had the power to flood the world, or expel them, or say, "Get up and go!" I might have. 

It Gets Better (in real life)

Those moments have become fewer and far between. (I can't even recall the last one.) I've changed, my kids have changed, and our relationship has changed. 

If I  judge myself by the first three chapters of my creating a world, a household, a family, a new generation, I come up very short. Quick to temper, slow to learn, reluctant to explain myself. But we're more than a few parshas past that now, and we're all starting to look better, and we deserve to be judged more charitably.

Maybe God will, too. 

Chat Log 1: Sarah/Hagar

לֶךְ-לְךָ, לילה Lech Lecha, Lailah -- Time to Go

My plan for Sunday was pretty simple. Rake some leaves, grocery shop, prepare Dragon Noodles for dinner, and watch the Colts v. Patriots and Cubs v. Mets simultaneously on my laptop and TV. I cracked open a new beer from Ballast Point and had my Twitter and Facebook feeds open for a little online rivalry-sparring with complete strangers.

Then my 12-year-old daughter received an urgent text from her very best friend, her soul sister.
Their dog Lailah was dying. Could Ellie come over right away?

I tried to get details -- did she mean dying right now? Are they at home? Are you sure her parents want you to come over? Are you sure you want to go....?

Yes, right now. 
Yes, they are at home.
Yes, she asked her parents.
Yes, I want to go. I have to go. My best friend is sad, so I am sad, too.

We have put down three pets since my daughter was born, but she hasn't been there for the euthanization of any of them.

It's a short drive to our friends' house, and Ellie and I were silent most of the way. I asked her if she knew what would happen if we were there when the dog was put down. She said she did.

I asked her what she was going to do to be a support to her friend. Be careful not to say this or that, I said. Maybe don't talk about A, B, and C. But she had it.

I'm just gonna be there, Mom Whatever she wants.

I told her she would be safe in following her instincts and her heart, and I knew that she also loved this dog, and that I would be there to support her. I'll just be there. Whatever you want.

Lech Lecha -- Go for You

You never know when the Torah portion of the week will coincide perfectly with the events in your life, or someone else's. 

In the first sentence of this week's Torah portion, God gives Abraham a command. "לֶךְ-לְךָ" literally "go for you". Get up, leave your current home, and go on a journey to the unknown. Don't worry, I've got your back, God tells Abraham. I'll show you where you're going (eventually) and there will be blessings for you and your family. You're leaving behind a lot, Abraham, but your time in this place is finished. And don't forget, this mysterious journey I'm sending you on isn't for me, it's for you. Go for you. Go for yourself.

From the time they are born, dogs are brought along on our journey. We adopt them, give them a name, bring them into our homes, and make all the decisions of where they can and cannot go. Inside, outside, in the car, on a road trip, for a hike, on a walk, camping in the wilderness... all of which offer varying levels of freedom, but never complete freedom. Chase the squirrel if you want, go for a dip in the stream, walk off the trail, but eventually your people will decide it's time to go home and you'll be getting back into the car.

I spent quite a bit of time with the dying dog last night. I petted her, stroked her face, talked to her about how her adventures were complete, and she'd done everything she needed to do. Time to go. Every now and then she would move her head a little, or twitch her eyebrows, and I didn't know if that meant "keep going," or "stop," but I kept going. More for me, perhaps. The silence was too much. I was choking on it.

I sang to her (Debbie Friedman's Lechi Lach, Esa Eynai, Misheberach, the Grateful Dead's Ripple, and my go-to lullaby/comfort song, Shlomo Carelbach's Besheim Hashem, which is about how none of us are ever journeying alone.) 

בשם השם אלוהי ישראל 

In the name of God, the God of Israel

מימיני מיכאל ומשמאלי גבריאל

 On my right is Michael, on my left is Gabriel

ומלפני אוריאל ומאחורי רפאל 

In front of me is Uriel, and Raphael is behind

ועל ראשי, ועל ראשי, שכינת האל. 

And over my head, and over my head, Shekinah dwells

Lessons on Friendship

I don't always know how to be a good friend, especially when my friends are hurting. It doesn't feel like it comes naturally to me, and I often find myself inserting my own ideas, opinions, and stories into other people's moments. "I went through that!" "This is how it went for me!" "Here's an idea for you!" (You could argue this entire post is just that...and I beg forgiveness if I'm being a butt-insky.)

My daughter is a wonderful, natural friend, and I (at 43) am honored to take my cues from her.

• Enter quietly.
• Reach out physically -- sometimes there's no need for words.
• Follow your friend, and keep her needs, moods, and desires in the front of your mind.
• Leave space -- quiet spaces, spaces for laughing, spaces where you just sit in silence and both feel sad.
• Be the vessel for whatever your friend needs to pour out. At one point in the night, my daughter's friend wanted to play a card game. My first instinct was to say, "You should really stay here and experience this. It's going to be over soon." But my daughter was able to see that her friend needed a break, needed to laugh, needed to do something routine, normal. Play a card game, giggle, and reminisce about the dying dog's worst farts. 
• Leave quietly.

On our drive home, I tried to put into practice all the lessons she had taught me. I held her hand, waited for her to talk, and followed her mood, which inevitably led back to cracking jokes about dog farts. We cried, and we laughed.

A Blessing for the Journey

לילה, שתוליכך לשלום ותצעידך לשלום ותדריכך לשלום

Lilah, shetolikheykah leshalom vetatzideykah leshalom vetadrikhekah leshalom

Lilah, go in peace, and stride in peace, and be guided in peace...

The Oregon Shooting

When's the last time you thought of the shooting at Umpqua Community College in Roseburg, Oregon?

Been a while? Yeah... me too. Can you name a single victim? Or even how many there were this time?

Me either.

Even the Wikipedia page hasn't been updated since October 9, though there has been some news and survivors have given interviews and details in the past nine days.

Maybe Jeb Bush was right. "Stuff happens."

President Obama was wrong:

“The notion that 2 months or 3 months after something as horrific as what happened in Newtown happens and we’ve moved on to other things, that’s not who we are. That’s not who we are. Now, I want to make sure every American is listening today. Less than 100 days ago that happened, and the entire country was shocked. And the entire country pledged we would do something about it and that this time would be different. Shame on us if we’ve forgotten. I haven’t forgotten those kids. Shame on us if we’ve forgotten.” —President Barack Obama (March 28, 2013)*

*Quote taken from a fascinating article from the Connecticut Law Review on "The Shooting Cycle." 

None of us should act surprised when it happens again.

(I will continue to support and work for change, through organizations like MomsDemand, (http://momsdemandaction.org/)

— but in truth...

Baseball Curses and the Ezer Kenegdo

Being a Red Sox fan is like being Jewish in my family -- you're just born that way, and for my kids, it's been passed down through the mother. Matrilineal Red Sox Fandom.

When my kids were born, in 2001 and 2003, this was bad news. When we got Ben his first little Red Sox cap and onesie, we said, "Sorry to do this to you, kid. You're in for a life of sadness and disappointment."

In those days, the last time the Red Sox had won the World Series was 1918, and since then there had been a string of events that raised the hope of Sox fans so high that the team was known as the Cardiac Kids. "The Curse of the Bambino" was real, and Bucky Dent, Bob Stanley, Mookie Wilson, Bill Buckner and Aaron Boone were verboten. Those who shall not be named. The Red Sox blew it in 1946, 1948, 1949, and most spectacularly in the World Series contests of 1967, 1975, and 1986, when the team was one strike (One Strike!) away from winning it all.

We believed in the curse, and it was a crucial part of our identities as Sox fans. We were beleaguered, persecuted, almost-rans whose hearts had been broken more times than we could count. Faith? Hope? Only for next year.

And then next year came. October 27, 2004. The miracle Red Sox had come back from a 3 games to 0 deficit against the Yankees to make it to the World Series, and they swept the St Louis Cardinals in 4 games. World Champs. The curse was broken. The Boston Globe headline was one jubilant word:

(Although I have mad love for this parody version)

86 years of cursedness. Gone. We had believed, and we had been rewarded. We had hung in there, and we had been rewarded. 

I've got the hats, t-shirts, newspapers, commemorative books, and a million memories from 2004 that will never fade. It was wicked awesome. 

Ezer K'negdo

What I did not realize at the time was that The Curse was our Ezer K'negdo
(עֵזֶר כְּנֶגְדּוֹ) . Our what?

In the second Creation account of Genesis, after God formed man from the dust of the earth and placed him in the garden of Eden, God says, “It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable (ezer knedgo) for him” (2:18). 

As my rabbi has pointed out, we don't quite get the meaning of ezer knegdo/helpmeet these days. It's not just a partner for life. It's a force you lean against, the person who helps you keep your balance by offering just the right amount of resistance.

Red Sox fans pushed against that damn curse for 86 years, and it pushed right back. There was equilibrium, and we could talk in absolute language. "Always be losers..Always blow it...Always let you down..."

And then they won.

We were knocked off balance and stumbled a bit. Yes, we celebrated. Now what?

In 2005, the Red Sox were...average. They got to the first round of the post-season, where they were swept in three games by the Chicago White Sox, who would go on to win the World Series.

It wasn't The Curse. Teams have their ups and downs, and no one wins the World Series every year. (Not even you, Yankees fans... where's your team tonight?)

Suddenly, we just one of those teams. Sometimes we win it all (2007, 2013) and sometimes we're awful (2015).  We are...

In some ways, and I'll talk about this in other posts, Jews have been through the same journey. Much of the identity of Israel has been that of a persecuted people. The world pushed against us and we always pushed back. After the Holocaust and WWII, we pushed back hard. For some people, that push was their entire Jewish identity. Be Jewish if for no other reason than there are people who don't want you to. That doesn't always work in 2015. The world won't always push back.

I'm rooting for the Cubs to win the World Series this year. I haven't lived their curse (it involves a goat?), but they haven't won the World Series since 1908, and that joy of winning is oh, so sweet. Besides, watching history being made is cool, and that Back to the Future 2 connection is just too perfect.

Watch out for the fall, though, Cubs fans. If you lose, you get to keep being curse, and keep cursing your bad luck. If the Cubs win, you might end up missing your ezer knegdo when you end up in the "just another team that won it..." bucket with the rest of us.

Either way, I think you win.