Shavuot Drash

People are surprised when I tell them that I grew up in a secular Jewish home; that often, we celebrated the High Holy Days with a trip to the mall; that Congregation Beth Shalom is the first  synagogue I've ever belonged to, not just as an adult, but in my entire life.  

My father grew up in an Orthodox home, keeping kosher, attending synagogue, and observing holidays and Shabbat.  My mother grew up a child of Russian immigrants for whom "Jewish" was a race, not a religion.  When they married, both wanted to distance themselves from traditional observance, but still kept a strong Jewish identity.  We would take off from school and work for the High Holy Days (as I mentioned, often spending the day shopping), not because we were celebrating, but because my parents felt it was important that we "observe" the day, so that others may be allowed to do so.  My mother explained to me that if she were at work on Rosh Hashanah or Yom Kippur, another Jew who was taking the day off might be considered a shirker, falsely taking a day off as a "religious holiday".  She said, "As a manager, if I'm at work, it's obviously not an important enough holiday, and other managers might not allow more observant Jews the day off.  Just as many Christians celebrate Christmas but don't go to church, we are celebrating the holiday our way."

My family did not belong to a synagogue.  When I was born, my baby naming was celebrated at my grandparents' synagogue.  My mother jokes that I attended church more often than synagogue, as we were invited to Christian friends' life cycle events much more often than Jewish family events.  My parents had no intention on joining a synagogue for long.   When I was 11 years old, they asked me if I wanted a bat mitzvah.  It was made very clear to me we would join the synagogue for the time leading up to my bat mitzvah, and then afterwards we would quit the congregation.  My parents clearly did not wish to affiliate.  For this, and other reasons, I declined.

So, how did I learn Hebrew?  Tefilah?  Jewish music?

I attended Abrams Hebrew Academy - the finest Jewish Day School in Yardley, PA.

The obvious question arises - if my family didn't care about affiliating, why in the world was I attending a Hebrew Day School?

The answer - I got myself expelled from public school in first grade.  (This is why nothing your children do in my classroom will ever surprise me.)  My schooling choices were Hebrew Day School or Catholic School...  It really wasn't a choice.

And so, I spent the next 5 years learning Hebrew, Torah, prayers, holidays, observances, etc.  I joined the choir, Jewish theater club, Israeli Dance, and learned Krav Maga from my crazy former Israeli Army captain gym teacher.  Like most kids, I enjoyed some of it, and trudged through the rest.  My two biggest issues were that observances I was being taught in school were never mirrored at home, and girls were not treated the same as boys.

I was repeatedly told that being Jewish meant you had to do everything exactly the way my teachers told us, and if you didn't, then you weren't Jewish.

My classmates had the benefit of being members of a synagogue, and so they had competing messages from their clergy that taught them about the ladder of observance.  I had no such comparison.  All I knew was that I was being told my family wasn't Jewish, and had no one to tell me otherwise.  I was also being told that, now that I had developed some Judaic skills, I wasn't allowed to use them, because I am a girl.  My job was to learn these skills so I can teach my future children, but that I was not allowed to use them in public.  And that I should not be so Hermione-ish in class, because it shamed the boys that a girl knew more than them.  Add to that a regular dash of Anti-Semitic harassment and vandalism, and by sixth grade I asked to switch schools.

I attended a secular private school from 7th grade on.  If you had asked me then, in private, and guaranteed me that my parents would never know I said it, I would have told you I wasn't Jewish.  I was done.  I was fed up with a religion that insisted that my favorite subject of science was wrong - my beloved dinosaurs were not "leftover materials from previous creations used by God to create the Earth".  I was not interested in a religion that told me my loving parents were bad people.  And I certainly was not planning on limiting myself to the role of housewife when I grew up.  Boys are stupid & gross and I don't want one telling me what to cook for dinner.

My secular school was very careful to observe and respect many cultural and religious holidays.  Despite being one of 4 Jewish students in the school, over 50% of the faculty were Jewish.  I experienced less anti-Semitism in my new school than I had attending my Hebrew Day School!  If I had my eyes open more, I probably would have noticed that all my Jewish teachers were not highly observant, yet still considered themselves Jewish.  But, I had shut the door on that part of my life and did not anticipate ever opening it again.  It would take me until college to return to my Jewish roots.

I was accepted to Muhlenberg College, and my mother immediately signed me up for Hillel, without my consent.  She made me promise to attend the welcome BBQ, for her.  Anything beyond that was up to me.  My parents made it clear that my involvement in Hillel was to make sure I found myself a Jewish boyfriend, because I was not allowed to marry a non-Jew.  Even if my family rarely did anything Jewish, it was of utmost importance that I was Jewish, that I stayed Jewish, and that I married a nice Jewish boy.

Hillel did not disappoint.  Within the first hour of the BBQ, I, quite literally, ran into Hayim, made him dump his lunch down the front of his shirt, and the rest is history.

I had grown up _knowing_ that there were different streams of Judaism, but I hadn't ever _understood_ what those designations meant.  My experience was so limited that I thought the difference was how much English was used in the service.  Being a part of Hillel exposed me to the wide range of observance that existed in Judaism.  It showed me that my teachers had been speaking from a minority opinion, and that, while Jewish leaders may disagree, they are, for the most part, not in the business of judging who is and is not a Jew.  I was not going to be excommunicated from the Jewish people for being non-observant.

I also learned the lovely term "egalitarian", and was all around accepted as a headstrong feminist!  Win!

I quickly found a niche as the cantor to Hayim's rabbi...  During services at Hillel, Hayim was in the practice of often delivering the D'var Torah.  As one of the few students with strong skills in the cantorial triad of Hebrew reading, Tefilah, and singing, I became the go to service leader.  I would go on to hold several different roles, including following in Hayim's footsteps as PR secretary, and becoming the "head chef" cooking Shabbat dinners for 120 students single-handedly. I later earned the B'nai B'rith leadership award for my contributions to Jewish life on campus.

Fast forward to the turn of the millennium.  Hayim & I were married, here at Beth Shalom, on July 9th 2000.  It was then I became an official member of CBS, my first, and only, Synagogue home.  The first service after returning from our honeymoon was a Shabbat under the stars, where I presented myself to the cantor as her newest choir member.  "Hi, I'm your new Alto!  When are rehearsals?"

I must have one of those faces, because during my first years of membership, congregants often confused me with other people, most frequently, Amy Burr.  When we welcomed the arrival of Hazaan Michael Horwitz, congregants kept referring to me as his wife.  Luckily we both have a good sense of humor, and we ended up becoming fast friends.  Michael saw my passion for Jewish music, and was the first person to ask me why I hadn't gone to cantorial school.  Despite my Jewish renaissance in college, no one had ever mentioned to me that becoming a cantor was a viable career option.  Up until coming to CBS, I had never met a female rabbi or cantor.  The existence of female Jewish clergy had escaped my notice until it was too late.

I think Michael wanted to make up for my lost opportunity, and he became my mentor in filling in the gaps in my Jewish education.  He taught me Torah trope, skills to lead Shabbat services, about nusach, and the structure of services and the annual cycle.  He nominated me to attend the USCJ's IMUN program; a one week lay leader boot camp at Camp Ramah in the Poconos.  While there, I was placed in the "advanced track" and learned so much, including ALL the trope systems, how to lead Shabbat & weekday services, how to write a D'var Torah, and even a primer on leading High Holy Day services.  My egalitarian heart was thrilled that women were encouraged to wear kippot all day, every day (leading to some of us accidentally washing them along with our hair in the shower), and I learned to lay tefillin; my set, a gift from Mel Pell, who accompanied me to IMUN.

All of these skills would quickly come in handy, as we learned that Hazzan Michael would be on paternity leave at the same time that we were waiting for Rabbi Michael to arrive.  For six weeks, 13 years ago, I would be the cantor.  Hazzan Michael prepped me to lead Friday night, and Saturday morning services.  Mel took on morning minyan.  We lined up Torah readers.  I was taught Hallel, announcing Rosh Chodesh, and other random skills that would end up being needed.  We rescheduled life cycle events.  

I was all set.  My biggest fear was that someone would die, and I would have to co-officiate a funeral.  Michael & I had reviewed El Male Rachamim, just in case...  I prayed over and over that no one would die on me...  And no one did...  Until, 6 weeks later, Rabbi Michael joined us, and his first two weeks on the job were punctuated by quite a number of funerals.  (Sorry)

Since then, as you all know, I have added to the laundry list of Weiss involvement here at CBS; teaching in the Hebrew School, leading Family Services during the High Holy Days, starting a Jewish Girl Scout troop, and being the percussionist in our klezmer band.

So, what's the point?

I believe when Rabbi Michael asked me to speak, he was thinking that my story was inspirational because I went from rejecting my Judaism to becoming highly involved in my Jewish community.  My mother would certainly agree, as I've become known as "the observant one" in the family.

But, I think there's something more in play here.

My first passion will always be music.  My spirituality is bound up in it.  For me, prayer is song.  The world is held together by melody, harmony, and rhythm.

While participating in my first passion, I discovered my second - teaching.  And I think it's directly due to the fact that my early Jewish education, while excellent in most ways, was lacking in a key component.

I was taught to read and write and speak Hebrew.  While I honed my Tefilah skills as an adult, I rely heavily on the foundation built in my childhood.  The majority of my knowledge of Torah, Midrash, Talmud, & Jewish mysticism was taught to me in elementary school.  I was a sponge.  I learned it.  I remember it to this day.  It stuck.

But it didn't connect.

I received the Torah, but it's taken me my lifetime to understand what I have been given.

As a child, I didn't see a place for me in the Torah.  As an adult, I see not only my place in the Torah, but also places for all my students.  It's my job to teach them the building blocks of Jewish knowledge AND to make sure they recognize that, no matter what, they will always have a place within the tribe.  

Chag Sameach

To the Dieting Parents Club...

I'm a teacher... I hear things about you from your kids that I'm sure you'd rather no one outside your household knew... You probably didn't even know your kids noticed these things, let alone spoke about them in class...

Which is my point. Kids notice everything.

So, moms and dads, when you make that offhanded remark about needing to lose those pesky pounds you gained over the holiday season, your kids think they too need to lose a few...

It no longer shows up as kids talking about needing to diet... Because that's no longer your jargon...

It shows up when your children ask me at snack if an orange is healthy for them to eat.
It shows up when a child is outgrowing their sneakers and says sadly it's because they're getting fat.
It shows up when a child says that they are participating in a sport they hate playing because they are afraid of getting fat if they stopped.
It shows up when a girl says she would never wear a bikini - not because she doesn't want to show skin, but because she thinks she'll look fat, and get bullied because of her "flabby tummy".
It shows up when a young dancer is worried that the developing muscles on her arms and legs are actually fat.
It shows up when your kids talk about eating only half their sandwich at lunch, in order to "eat healthier".
It shows up when a boy asks someone if his pants make his butt look big.
It shows up when a child complains they are hungry, but then refuses to eat snack, because they don't want to become "a nosher".

I don't think any parent intends to give their kids negative body image messages, but keep in mind that they are constantly taking in the subconscious messaging of our culture about what is "normal" and "beautiful" and "healthy" (and what is not). Children are not sophisticated enough thinkers to understand the difference between their parents' opinions on what is healthy, and what our society says. An offhand comment by a parent could be interpreted as a ringing endorsement of everything else taken in on the subject.

New Book, New Year

So, this year we celebrate the secular New Year at the same time we start a new book in the Torah... Shemot, or Exodus. It's a big change... We go straight from the Israelites prospering under Joseph, to them being slaves under a cruel new Pharoah. From a heartwarming tale of salvation from starvation and family reconciliation, to families being torn apart by genocidal edicts.

The secular New Year is often a time for big changes as well.

Many people like to make New Year's resolutions... Promises to themselves that they will work to make themselves and their lives better.

It sounds all well and good, but I'm going to tell you it's not. In fact, I'm going to tell you to throw out any and all of your resolutions. If you haven't finished making them, good, and if you haven't even gotten around to starting them, even better.

Why?

Because all resolutions start in a place of self-hate.

There is something wrong with your life, and yourself, and you're going to fix it. You've tried in previous years to get it right, and this time, by golly, you're going to do it. No more fooling yourself, this time it's get it right or go home.

And by February, or March if you've really got it going, it all falls apart... Life intervenes and all your good intentions go out the door.

We plan, God laughs.

And where does that leave you? Feeling like a failure. Like damaged goods. I can't even get this little change to stick, how worthless am I?

Stop.
Just. Stop.

You're not worthless. And there was nothing ever wrong with you to begin with. You don't need to change. Things may not be perfect, but they're okay, and you don't need a resolution to change your life for the better.

This is not to say there is never anything that anyone needs to do to improve themselves, but rather, to elucidate that the kind of change people need isn't the kind of thing that can be accomplished by a lofty goal arbitrarily set at the beginning of the calendar year.

New Year's resolutions are usually made in frustration, because we are comparing our behind-the-scenes lives with everyone else's highlight reels... We're looking at the holiday party at our neighbor's immaculately clean home and comparing it with our own house the day after our kids all had the stomach flu at the same time...

You don't have a sparkling clean house... Okay... Do you need one? Would you really be happier with everything shining and sparkling all the time? Would that make your life better? Is it worth it to you to give up other things in your life, either time or money, to have a house that clean?

No? Then forget it and move on. You have more important things to do.
Yes? Then what do you need to adjust to either have more time to clean, or pay someone else to do it?
"I'm a failure at life because I have no skill at keeping my house clean - everyone else can do it but me, what's wrong with me"? Absolutely nothing is wrong with you... Not everyone is a domestic diva. You have plenty of skills in other areas, apparently cleaning is not one of them. You wouldn't tell someone they were a failure at life because they can't sing. Stop comparing yourself to people who are not only good at cleaning but also apparently love doing it. No one in your family is going to die if there's dust on top of the TV.

So, this year, love yourself and don't make resolutions.

Pharoah needed 10 plagues before he was able to make a change. (And even after that, he tried to take it back!)

Give yourself the respect, kindness, and caring you deserve, and that you would extend to others. Make reasonable and achievable changes for good reasons, love yourself for who you are, and appreciate all the wonderful things already in your life.

Ventimated

As a child, I coined this term to describe the "no frills" grocery items you found in the supermarket...

If you're my age or older, you will remember the canned and boxed goods with a plain white label and black text which simply stated the contents of the container. No photos, no brand name, often no other colors (Pathmark being the lone exception with red, white, and blue stripes around the top).

To me, frills were things you found on ballet costumes, not on groceries, and so I rejected the term "no frills" as being just plain wrong, and replaced it with what I felt expressed that the packaging had been violated, having all the color and joy sucked out of it... Certainly the insides had suffered the same fate, and so why would you buy it? "Eeww, mommy, don't buy that, it's Ventimated!"

I imagined a Snidely Whiplash character sneaking through the supermarket, pulling out an oversized ray gun, laughing evilly, and zapping the product shelves, pulling the flavors and colors right out of the cans and boxes, leaving them lifeless shells, withering on display, marked down in pity by the store clerks, waiting for some poor customer who didn't know better to purchase them, simply because they had been put on sale... Who knows what eating the contents would do to you?

Apparently this sort of thinking caught on, because I can't remember the last time I saw a ventimated product anywhere. Now we have "store brands" instead of generic "no frills", which feature colors and images just like their more expensive, nationally branded counterparts.

In some way, I think it's a good thing - lack of color really does bother me... But it also removed the stigma from buying for price... I remember when ventimated wasn't just about a lack of fancy labels, but also about the fear of being "caught"... If a classmate ever saw me (or even just my mom) in the supermarket and saw a ventimated can or box in our cart, it meant we must be poor, and I'd be on the receiving end of some nasty treatment the next school day...

On the other hand, are we simply reinforcing that looks are everything?

There really wasn't any difference between the peas in the black and white can, and the peas in the can with the photo of peas on it, as my mother insisted to me every time we went shopping... But I was certain there was something wrong with the peas in the black and white can... As a child, I was incapable of not judging a book by its cover (consider why children's items are all so colorful!)...

But, obviously a whole host of adults, who should know better, agreed with me enough that an entire industry changed from no frills labeling to store brands... The insides hadn't changed, the factories that made them hadn't changed, the type of packaging hadn't changed, just the look of the label...

While I certainly prefer my colorful store brand to the ventimated packaging of the past, as the song goes, it's just another brick in the wall... Just one more thing programming all of us to look at the packaging over the content...

The Missing Introduction

I had planned to be brave tonight, but the opportunity to say these words was not given to me due to decisions made beyond my control.  So, here is a slightly edited version of what I had hoped you would learn earlier tonight:

I made a promise to myself when I was in college.  I made a promise that if I was ever in a position to keep even just one child from experiencing what I went through in school, that I would take that opportunity without reservation.  To explain that promise, I need to tell you something about myself that I don't usually talk about. 

When I was 14, I attempted suicide.

It's not a secret.  Many of my friends know.  I'm comfortable talking about it... but it's just not a topic that comes up in casual conversation over bagels and schmear at shul.

All throughout my years in school, I was "teased" and "picked on".  No one ever used the word "bullied" back then.  Looking back, I would personally use the word "abused".  Anyone who knows me is very much aware that I march to the beat of my own drummer (sometimes literally).  I always have.  But, when I was a kid, I payed dearly for it. 

I was verbally and physically assaulted daily by my peers.   In the beginning I asked for help.  I soon learned to stop talking about it, because it was either my fault for being different and not working to fit in, or any punishment my tormentors received would make them attack me more often and with a greater vengeance.  It was easier to just deal with it myself than to trust in an adult.  Bumps and bruises, stolen and damaged property - I was clumsy and forgetful enough that it was easy to pass them off as accidents. 

After a while, I found the physical attacks easy to deal with.  I got good at defending myself, and my status as a teacher's pet meant that I never got in trouble for finishing a fight.  The verbal attacks were a different animal.  They called me everything.  I was fat, ugly, stupid, but also a braniac, too tall, and then too short, I didn't have the right clothes, not enough money, I was disgusting, unlovable, and worthless.  When they ran out of the run-of-the-mill insults, they came up with the worst label they could throw at me.  I must be a lesbian.  I was not only worthless, but now a deviant and a pervert, because I had no interest in chasing after my idiotic male classmates.  I was told everyone would be better off if I never existed.

And I believed them.

Obviously I'm still here.  I managed to survive because I realized that ending my pain would hurt my family more than living could hurt me.  Eventually I went off to college, where I found out I was quite normal and perfectly lovable, even the weird parts of me...  I am still proud of the fact that I was voted in the top 25 members of my college class for homecoming court.  I didn't win, but I didn't have to.  For the first time ever, I was a contender in a popularity contest.  (Ha!)

And so this is why I am telling you my story.

No one should have to experience what I went through in school.  My teachers tried to help, but had no support to make the broad cultural changes needed to keep me safe.  School leaders felt that teasing was a normal part of growing up, and that it even builds character.  Parents felt that children should conform in order to avoid being singled out, because it's "normal behavior" for children to pick on people who are different.

And there was a time in the not so distant past when that was also considered normal behavior for adults...

Making mountains out of molehills

I read this blog from the St Louis Jewish Light...

And I think the author is both right and wrong.  Or, more accurately, her conclusion is correct were her premises accurate, but from my experience, her premises are wrong.

You see, she feels parents are doing their children a disservice by trying to remove challenges from their life paths.  And I agree with that. I think challenge and failure are teaching tools.  Children need to learn it's okay to not always get what they want.

However, I don't think that parents are simply trying to make life easy for their children.

The author states that a child's mistakes don't mean much in the long run.  And this is where my present day experience runs counter to what seems like common sense...

A child's mistakes shouldn't mean much in the long run, but these days, they certainly seem to.

You see, where I live, I hear from parents that it is of utmost importance for their children to be able to go to a good college.  Sounds like a good thing to me...  But to do that, you need to do well in high school, and the students who are best prepared for college go to the best high schools in the area.  In order to get into one of these top high schools, you must attend one of the correct feeder middle schools.  In order to get into one of these feeder middle schools you must be chosen in a selection process which includes a look at your academic and behavior records throughout elementary school.

Therefore, a child's mistakes, at the time that they should be making them and learning from them, could cost them opportunities down the line...  They could be penalized in their academic and socioeconomic development in a way that no child could possibly understand...  Sorry honey, you can't watch cartoons now, you need to do your homework because your future employer is going to want to see a diploma from a good college.  What 7 year old is going to understand that level of cause and effect?

Of course a parent is going to want to hand-hold a child through their school years.  Especially when you sure as hell bet other parents are doing the same, if not more, in order to ensure their child's spot on the yellow-brick-road...

It's not that parents don't trust that their children can do it, but it's that the price of failure seems so high, can a parent risk having a child do their homework without help?

I can't really blame the parents, who are looking at today's economy and feeling the need to help their children get the best start they can.

But what have we become as a society, when a child's academics and behavior in grade school can effect his or her employability as an adult?

We are raising a generation that won't be able to handle challenges, both emotionally and cognitively.  At what point does that translate into needing a PhD to be hired for an entry level minimum wage job?

Random Thoughts on Gender

A recommended read: tinyurl.com/9vc2xon

I'm now thinking about how I have heard so many women tell me that this is exactly why they don't have many male friends - that eventually all of them end up acting inappropriately towards them.  It makes me wonder why I have so many male friends (and so few female friends), and that I have never in my life had a male I consider a friend act like a creep towards me.

Sure, I've experienced my share of creeps... guys at work, friends of friends, classmates, family members (*shudder*)... but never a guy I consider my friend.  And no, it's not that a guy who acts creepy falls off the friend list and no longer counts... I've just never had it happen where someone I considered a friend ever failed me in that respect.

If you had asked me years ago, I probably would chalk it up to not being considered "sexy", and so my guy friends had me firmly placed in the "friend" or "one of the guys" category (especially given my interests), and not in the "sexual object" category in their brains.  But, I've also had several male friends admit to me that they very much do consider me in the "sexy" category.  I guess I'm just lucky that my male friends seem to lack "sexual object" categories... they're all "sensitive" as the author above postulates.