by Sam Glaser
Dear Max,
I just booked our Summer family vacation in Lake Tahoe. It will be an amazing place to spend a week…serious mountain biking, hiking and water skiing. As excited as I am I can’t help but be a bit melancholy. I have had the great gift of being your dad for the past 18 years. You are a superstar kid and have given me nothing but nachas (Jewish joy.) I celebrate the fact that you are entering your college years with so much enthusiasm and readiness to take on the world. I believe in you, Max. There’s nothing you can’t do.
So yes, it’s our last family vacation with all of us together for a while. Too soon we’ll have our last family dinner, our last Shabbat, a rockin’ graduation party and you’ll be off to camp and then the Holy Land. What a gift to have a year in Israel before college kicks off. Dreamy. I think some parents of teens are ready to see their kids hit the road. I’m not one of those parents. I love spending time with you. My greatest memories are the time we’ve spent together. We’ve had amazing adventures, deep musical connections, great conversations. I dig all your friends and love the fact that the gang comes over every Shabbat afternoon. I have great joy being your music teacher and getting to see you grow on the guitar in Jazz Ensemble and rockin’ Pro Tools in our recording technology class. I love watching your mom look at you with unfathomable love in her eyes.
In fact, everyone that I know that has ever met you only has great things to say about you. That’s a pretty rare thing. I’ve never seen leadership ability like yours. You’ve had it all your life. You are totally comfortable in every situation that you find yourself. On my concert tours on which you’ve joined me you are connecting with the synagogue youth whether it’s Reform, Conservative or Orthodox. Your teachers and rabbis rave about you. I get to watch you every year on the Pesach programs that I lead. Mom and I just gasp at how the entourage gravitates to you and how when you move on, they move too!
You are so at ease with yourself and remarkably you wear your confidence without pushing anyone down. Working the crowd without having to be the joker or the troublemaker or the scammer. Clearly you have learned only the good side of the things from your devious dad. Other than driving too fast. You are incredible with kids and are a beloved cousin, counselor and mentor. You are so open and loving with those “specially-abled.” You are so totally there for your four beautiful grandparents. You are a wizard on the guitar, with the computer, with just about anything you do. You have gotten school wired and should have so much pride that you have excelled more and more every year, on every report card and are busting out nearly straight A’s your senior year. Do you see a certain trajectory here?
And now you’re off to the Promised Land. Oooooh you are so lucky. It is such a wild, beautiful, exciting place. A place where holiness is flowing in the very air you breathe. The opportunity for connection is so powerful and present. You will be in an amazing growth environment with rabbis and peers that will support you into your own spiritual flight. Starting your post high school educational and professional life with Jewish fundamentals makes so much sense. After all, whether you become a hedge fund manager, psychologist or rock guitarist, you will have a serious foundation in place. I first got turned on in Israel when I was just a bit older than you. I was totally ready to do great things in my life and my heart was open. It may be hard to believe but you will become even more open as you put teenage angst, LA hype and living with your parents behind you. Yes, you can spend the year partying, but if you can find the discipline you will come out of this year with a passion to maximize every moment of your time, becoming more creative, productive and the master of your destiny.
There are a few things I’ve been thinking about now that you are launching into your official Israel gap year, a tradition, thank God, for most of the young people in our community. I’m so happy that you have my brother Yom Tov and Leah and their amazing eight kids to hang out with on a regular basis. Please bond deeply with all of your cousins. They miss you so much. They have been deprived of having you in their life and deserve to get their fill of you. You will blow them away and I know that they will see what a towering mensch (real human) you are. I’m getting weepy as I write this. I’m so proud of you, Max. I love you so much. You are such a credit to our family, a living testimony that mom and I did pretty good job with you. You are an extension of us to the world. We will be living vicariously through your adventures. Please keep us posted!
You are already a powerful ambassador for the Jewish People. Everyone who sees your kippah feels your good vibe and feels good about the heritage you represent. Do you understand what an intense Kiddush Hashem (sanctification of God’s name) that is? You will likely ramp up your commitment in Israel. It’s true that many “frum out” there but not just on the surface. You just feel God’s presence so powerfully through your learning and holy lifestyle that you would never ever do anything to mess it up. You do mitzvahs not because your parents or rabbis expect something out of you. The motivation comes from an outpouring of intense love for your relationship with God. The relationship becomes palpable. Why would you ever mess up your best friend in the Universe?? You will be driven by sweet longing and unspeakable gratitude for your life and everyone you meet will be deeply attracted by the light that you radiate. Yes, you!
You also know from your hyperactive father that our Judaism doesn’t mean you have to sit on your butt and study all day. Judaism means that you are out in the world, spreading light. Yes, we’re an Orthodox family, but we ski and surf and vacation and travel and drink in everything that life has to offer. Except non-kosher wine, of course. I give you permission to get on a bus to Eilat the moment your neshama (soul) tells you you need a break. Go spend some time underwater… learn to scuba dive (as your chassidic cousin Avrami just did), mountain bike, climb, play beach volleyball (my captain of the YULA Volleyball Team!) When you have a l’chaim please have a round for your old dad back in LA – and have a designated driver.
I hope you can get to the Old City as often as you are able. Catch as many minyanim (services) at the Kotel (Western Wall) as you can. It’s the center of the universe! Try your hand at bargaining in the Arab shuk. You’ll get a kick out of Yom Tov’s 10:00am daily lecture at Aish, in a spectacular room overlooking the Temple Mount. Your zany uncle catches major air on his mountain bike as he flies down the Arab Quarter steps. He gets to his class out of breath and addresses an unusual group of hippies, deadheads, Harvard grads and grandparents with an unscripted flow of whatever is on his mind. Anyone can come to his class and it would give him great nachas to see you there. Remarkably our yeshiva, Aish Hatorah, has become the number one outreach address in the world. It has the biggest Jewish website in the world. It brings over more young people to Israel to learn than any organization in the world. I’m not saying your should ditch your program in Mevaseret but I hope you can wander the Rovah (Jewish Quarter) and get to know my old Aish rabbi friends that will be excited to meet you.
Speaking of Aish, as you know we’ve been members of Aish LA since you were born. There are plenty of other synagogues that we go to and love, but Aish is our home. It’s where you crawled around every Shabbat, where you boys had your Bar Mitzvahs, where you rock the teen minyan. What you’re going to discover is that it’s more than just a shul. It’s a movement. You’re a part of it whether you realize it or not. You have seen me and your mother dedicate much of our time, money and effort towards making sure that every Jew we meet has the chance to get excited about Judaism. It’s why you’ve had strangers at a good percentage of your Shabbat meals. It’s why I leave you to go on the road every other weekend. We love sharing our heritage and it breaks our heart when our fellow Jews throw it away.
In my secular upbringing, I was raised with a devotion to Israel and the Jewish People but had no experience keeping kosher, davening (praying) or respecting Jewish law. It’s sad when you think about it. We had no idea what we were missing. Can you imagine your life without ever sukkah hopping? Partying up and down Pico on Purim? Surrounding yourself in the 24 hour feast that is Shabbat? We didn’t even know how to say the Shmoneh Esrai (central Jewish prayer.) Worse yet, we didn’t have clarity on God’s presence in our lives and the power of Torah to keep our act together. Thank God both your mom and I had great parents who gave us plenty of love and values. But we were in a free form “what the hell is this life all about” mystery and forced to explore the cultures of the world to find answers. Yes, there are lots of interesting answers out there, but not the fundamental truth that we celebrate in our own texts.
After my whirlwind four months in yeshiva the first time around, my mind was completely blown. I had amazing and patient guides to teach me and was mature enough to make my Yiddishkeit (Judaism) my own. I was so taken with Israel and the commitment of the people that I met there that upon returning to LA I started a Jewish library so that I’d have books to keep me connected. I became an advocate for Orthodoxy even though I wasn’t quite living it myself. I took “baby steps.” Shortly after I got back my friends started getting married. Most of my buddies with whom I grew up married non-Jews. Most of them didn’t bother getting them to convert. Our vast, 3500-year odyssey ended with them, the chain of Jewish transmission broken. They have kids who have no connection to their heritage and if they ever do connect, will have to jump through hoops to become Jewish.
I knew at that point I had to be part of the solution. I started writing Jewish songs. I met your mom and started doing Shabbas. After another trip to Israel I started wrapping tefillin and davening three times a day. Along the way I got my brothers to study over there and thank God two of them became Aish rabbis and have changed the lives of literally thousands of people. I know it’s hard for you to imagine your bubbie eating treif (non-kosher food.) She only started keeping kosher because some of her kids wouldn’t eat in her home and her reaction was, “Ain’t nobody got time for that!” Now she has sixteen Jewish grandkids who love their heritage and wouldn’t trade it for the world. I’m telling you all this so that you understand that it’s nothing short of a miracle that we are on this path and that nothing would get in our way of giving you this rich Jewish life that has so nourished you. Yes, Jewish day school has left us broke. But we feel like we’ve won the lottery.
Not to overdo the accolades for our shul but I think it’s important to point out to you that the outreach revolution began with one man, Rav Noach Weinberg, zit’s, who had a vision and would not be defeated. He tried and failed several times establishing yeshivot. I think Aish is number seven. King Solomon in Proverbs tells us that the righteous fall seven times but always get back up. Thanks to Rav Noach’s tenacity, we have the incredible life that we do. Please learn from his example, Max. The sky is the limit. Dream big. Get back up when you fail. Depression is not an option. Just get back on the horse and try again. Know with perfect clarity that Hashem is with you. The days we have on this planet are too few to waste feeling sorry for yourself. Get up and get moving. Your face and your mood are public property. Don’t pollute the world with a scowl. Rav Noach always had a sweet smile for everyone and fought with grace until the end of his days. Keep the good attitude, keep the faith, keep smiling and the world will smile with you.
I hope that in your study you’ll find that there is no divide between our spiritual life and material life. We can make money in a holy way. We ski at the speed of sound because it nourishes and refreshes us. We eat only after we thank God for the miracle of our food. We are intimate with our wives and as a result deepen our marital bonds and bring holy children into the world. Living in the realm of Torah doesn’t make you a recluse or weird. You have a gift that you can share with Jews of all stripes. You have a gift that you can share with all nations. They don’t need us to try so hard to be like them. They are blessed by blessing us. Those whom you meet throughout your life will be fascinated by your story, by the things that make you different. In this politically correct world no one is allowed to “dis” people because they are different. We can use that to our advantage. We can be the best Jews we can be, living in the world, interacting and influencing and serving as a Kiddush Hashem, perhaps the highest of all mitzvot. Along the way you may meet some people who are not so excited about the Jewish People. You don’t have to be so excited about them either.
I’m telling you all this so that you get some perspective of what you are getting yourself into. This trip you are taking is not just for you or your family. Your learning is for K’lal Yisrael (the Jewish People,) for all the nations, for all those martyrs who perished in the Holocaust and other times of persecution. It’s to empower you to become a shining example of a great Jewish man, a spiritual leader that will help to bring back our disenfranchised brothers and sisters. You are truly learning when you are able to teach that particular subject. I hope you learn in order to teach. I hope you understand that it’s selfish to be complacent, to be self-satisfied while there are so many unaffiliated Jews that have no concept of the diamonds in their hands. I’m not saying you have to join any particular shul or movement. I’m just saying that you have a very unusual family and very serious passion in your veins that you have inevitably inherited. Yes, you are going to Israel to study, travel, party and make lifelong friends. You are also going to get a sense of the importance of your life’s mission, beyond just earning a living and raising a family. It’s your turn now, my beautiful son. I pray that you’ll use your vast abilities to be a hero for the Jewish people, to continue to be the powerful role model that you already are.
So, my dear Max, there’s my shpiel. There are some other things I want to discuss…we’ll save them for the next jacuzzi. Please try to break away from the computer to have a few more jams, oshkibunis (walks) and conversations with me. I treasure every minute we have together. Your friends will come and go over the course of your life…your family is forever. Make these few months meaningful. Hug your mom frequently. Try to imagine a world where she’s not cooking for you, driving you everywhere, feeding your friends, doing your laundry, making you ice chai just the way you like it. Start listing all the things she means to you and see where the resulting burst of gratitude leads you.
Please try to give love to your sister. She needs you. She needs your hugs and your compassion. She is going to miss you so much. She will be crying real tears of grief when she doesn’t have you around. You may think she’ll be fine but I promise that the gravity of the fact that you are gone for so long will profoundly affect her. You have this precious time to leave an impression. Regarding your brother Jesse, you already know that he adores you, looks up to you and so values your companionship. You guys are best friends and that fact alone has me crying again. He may not be able to express the intense bond he shares with you, but trust me, it informs his being. You have created big shoes for him to fill. You have set the bar high. Give him love and honor. Build him up and avoid words that tear him down. May you always take great pleasure in his successes in life and may he always celebrate yours.
I love you Max, Ze’ev Dov ben Shmuel, my pidyon haben, my beautiful, precious son.
Dad
Everybody knows about the famous ones: bris, baby naming, bar/bat mitzvah, marriage and funerals. This month’s column is a segue from last month’s report on the miraculous nature of the bris and is dedicated to certain overlooked milestones that are equally a part of life. All cultures celebrate rites of passage. In the US we have graduations, sweet 16′s, getting a driver’s license, and the holy grail, reaching drinking age. As a parent I’ve noticed that once you have kids there are a few other significant transitions that are rarely discussed.
“reproductively irrelevant.” I always envisioned having four kids. Four is a nice, round number, I grew up in a family with four boys and I felt like four meant you were a real parent. Also, one of our favorite rebbetzins used to lecture us on the importance of Jews having large families to undo the damage of Hitler’s taking 1.5 Million of our kinderlach. I love the sweet adventure and mystery of pregnancy and birth. Of course that’s easy for me to say. I tried to participate in everything, from birth coaching to feeding and the changing diapers. I even got to dispense the milk my wife would laboriously pump.
The next lifecycle event came on the heels of our last child becoming a Bat Mitzvah. Sarah turning 12 means that Max is a senior in high school. Yes, my friends, the empty nest phase is approaching. We are now in the midst of SAT’s, college applications and researching yeshivot in Israel. Last month he went on his senior trip in which the class goes to Israel to see firsthand the top fifteen academies that are recommended for their gap year of study. This is all very exciting for Max. But it’s a bit heartbreaking for me. Our official annual vacation this last January was our last as a whole family, at least for the foreseeable future. Next year he won’t be with us for Pesach. Or High Holidays or Chanukah for that matter. We won’t enjoy his brief appearance at dinner every night. And Jesse, who is only a year-and-a-half younger soon will be following in his footsteps. I’m getting weepy writing this. I know I should be stoic and matter of fact. But I will leave that for my wife, who wears the pants in the family. (Actually I wear the pants, but she tells me which pair.)
What did the moel bring to the bris?
Two days later came the fancy bris of the month. All of the neighborhood big shots were assembled and it was anyone’s guess which bearded sage would be graced with the highest honor of sandek, the person who holds the baby in his lap during the ceremony. It was the father’s fourth child but he was as touched as if it were his first. His beautiful wife sobbed as she looked on. Amidst the pomp and circumstance of this first class affair there was still a simple presence of the Shechina and sure enough I found myself getting misty eyed once again. I was still wearing my tallis and tefillin from Shachrit and even though I had prayed in rote fashion, the power of the words I had already uttered somehow landed in my atria at the moment of the incision. One lesson learned: most attendees come for the mitzvah and not the meal. The ample delicacies were artfully displayed in stations across the vaulted lobby of the Museum of Tolerance and yet about 10% was eaten by the time the room cleared out.
There is special significance in the fact that we are commanded to carry out this holy procedure on the eighth day. Kabbalah teaches that seven is the number associated with the intersection of the human sphere and the divine. That is why our weekly communion with our Creator and Redeemer, the Sabbath, is every seventh day. Eight is one step beyond, entirely metaphysical, the realm of the supernatural. It is interesting that eight is simply the vertical representation of the universal symbol for infinity. Eight is also the number associated with Chanukah where we celebrate the miraculous victory of the Maccabees and the length of time that the single cruse of oil burned. Some say that the miracle of Chanukah is the fact that we bothered to try to light the menorah or fight the Syrian-Greeks in the first place. After all, isn’t it wiser to surrender when all the chips are down, when defeat is inevitable? NO, says Jewish tradition. That is precisely when we must remember that we are a supernatural people that defies all laws of conventional sociology and, with God’s help, we are invincible.
December is a time for new possibilities. Thanks to “holiday spirit” the world becomes a kinder, more colorful place. I just returned from Manhattan where the midtown buildings were transformed into magnificently wrapped presents. Even the cops were friendly. December means that our fiscal year is ending and we ponder what we might do differently when January comes around. Inclement weather demands that we spend less time outdoors, more time with inside activities that make us more internal, intellectual, introspective. The Torah portions of the season deal with dreamers; between Jacob, Joseph, the butcher, baker and Pharaoh we have eight dreams to cross-reference and inspire our own musings. Finally, Chanukah calls on us to fill the darkest, shortest days of the year with light and we are challenged to unveil our own unique light unto the world.
method of inspiring transformation. Like me, he performs and teaches for a living. But I now see that there is a tremendous difference in our approach, thanks to “The Possible You,” a powerful seminar that he has founded. He takes responsibility for every one of the attendees in his Jerusalem-based twenty-hour program. He will work with anyone who is not getting it, and relentlessly pursue those who bail before “graduation.” With an intensely paced delivery of profound insights coupled with music, visual aids and group sharing, a crucial set of life tools are communicated to the full spectrum of learners in all modalities. The results are nothing short of astounding and my brother’s reputation is growing exponentially. He has cobbled The Possible You from the wisdom of kabbalah, mussar, surfing and a variety of transformation technologies of the past several decades. It’s tailor-made for the Jewish neshama. Now with several thousand graduates, myself included, I see The Possible You changing the world.
Over twenty hours, strangers become allies and loving friends, taking a stand for each other’s success in life. They open the door to estranged family members and experience real healing for wounds gathered over life’s journey. It sounds too good to be true, right? I wouldn’t have believed it if I didn’t see it with my own eyes.
My wife buys the smallest packages of food in order to conserve space in our three-shelf pantry. When I open it on any given morning and find one of those 10oz. boxes of Cheerios I cringe and dream of a time when we can shop at Costco. Furthermore, I insist on having a plethora of cereal options so that I can mix and match my breakfast. She retaliates by buying the mini jars of peanut butter. I get the same grief when it comes to my closet full of clothes. She argues that I have more than she does and calls me a pack rat. I respond that I like lots of choices and see no reason to throw my old favorites away, as long as they still fit. So too with my CD collection, the gear in my music studio, my library. Am I too attached to material things? Yes. But I prefer to give my obsession another name.
correctness. We live at a time when conscientious Americans are trying to reduce our carbon footprints, bringing canvas bags to the supermarket, driving hybrids and recycling. I’m not suggesting that we abandon these astute practices, God forbid! I am suggesting that we distinguish between minimizing our consumption and maximizing our joy.
“magnets”; if we prove that we know how to do the right thing in any situation, clearly God can trust us with abundance. God aches to give us more, but we have to CHOOSE the relationship, we have to ASK for what we want and we have to BUILD ourselves into individuals who can handle abundance.
and should use our Jewish institutions to enhance our connection rather than provide a glass ceiling to our growth. My friend David Suissa comments that in religious life we decide, “that’s not what I do” and then defend that stance religiously! We argue: why try a mitzvah one time if it makes us a “hypocrite” for not sticking with it? As Jews, our access to shefa is closely aligned with the mitzvot that we take on. Take a chance! Be a hypocrite once in a while. Suissa quotes Rabbi Shlomo Schwartz as saying “God counts only the mitzvahs you do, not the ones you don’t.”
I’d like to thank my friend and mentor Rabbi Simcha Weinberg for the inspiration for this newsletter.
I just returned from my distant cousin Gene Samson’s funeral. I must admit I left my home this morning a bit frustrated that I was going to “lose” half my day and had to wear a black suit on a 90 degree LA scorcher. But as soon as I entered the mortuary I was immediately uplifted by the faces of my extended family and felt the soul-satisfaction of performing the ancient and powerful mitzvah of participating in the burial of a loved one.
couple married for over 50 years, wearing white, exploring the verdant burial ground of our extended family. I got to cry simply because I love my parents so much, because I miss the relatives that have left us, because I’m human and have a God-given need to open my heart and just have a “good cry.”
Isaac says “Hineni,” (here I am) and seems to be complicit in his own demise. Avraham is asked to destroy everything he has worked for. The midrash tells us that the angels were crying tears of disbelief and awe at the commitment of our patriarchs and that these tears fell into Isaac’s eyes and led to his blindness. These angelic tears are the tears of injury, tears that are real and damaging and stay with us forever. We have all experienced crises, trauma and tragedy. The question is if we let the damage sabotage us or if we rise from the ashes stronger and more deeply connected to our Creator.
alone. This is the time to make a written accounting of who we are, who we want to be, who we’ve wronged and need to ask for forgiveness. Only when we are at peace with our friends and relatives and in touch with our personal mission can we let the cries of the shofar enter our hearts and tear down the walls of complacency.
trying to hold onto my kids just like I’m trying to hold onto this water.” As I reached into the river for handfuls of water it just escaped through the cracks in my fingers and continued on its inevitable descent. I sobbed tears of sadness and relief as I acknowledged this bittersweet pain that I have been carrying inside.
God’s ability to sustain me and keep my family together is crumbling. Rather than serving as an example of holiness and living at peace with the Universe, open to whatever God has in store, I am a frightened child trying to protect all my toys from the neighborhood bully.
clearing in the forest where we could peer into the pitch-black new moon sky with a sixteen-inch mirror telescope. My friends, I saw a global cluster, the Whirlpool Galaxy and “eye of God” Ring Nebula with my own eyes! All of these celestial bodies have a specific place in the universe, predictable orbits that they follow, so reliable that we can use their light to steer our ships through the night. All of creation is on a path, with atoms in ordered arrays, electrons and protons spinning around nuclei, trees arching towards the sun, ants marching in single file, pelicans drafting off each other’s wingtips. Why should I dread any aspect of my own path, my lifecycle? Thankfully the Jewish People have been given the gift of a long and winding road of 613 mitzvot, in a system called Halacha, the path. Jewish law can be seen as oppressive and burdensome, or as a collection of helpful spiritual signposts to keep us joyful and inspired on the annual orbit of the Jewish year.
amazing tools to stay on track but I can testify that it is possible to live within halacha and become a robot. I think the key is focusing on filling our lives with kindness to others and gratitude to our Creator. I am grateful for the time God has allotted me to be with my children. I am grateful for vacations and National Parks. I am grateful for stars, rivers and friends. I am grateful for the air that I breathe. I am grateful for my wife, my children, my parents, my extended family. I am grateful to be Jewish. I am grateful for skateboards, skis, guitars and gravity. I am grateful for challenges to overcome. I pray that all of us learn the art of letting go, prying open our hearts to the messages of Heaven and finding our true path. Thanks to a river, a telescope and a new friend, I am a bit closer to finding my own.
is completely open and there is no one imposing deadlines except you. Being a self-employed musician is even harder. The craft is vastly time consuming, goals are difficult to quantify, and the quality of the final product is entirely subjective and resides in the ether. Most of my peers survive from gig to gig, no grand schemes or business plans. All of my kids are becoming musicians in their own right and while I am gushing with pride at their accomplishments, I am not pushing them into the field as a profession. It’s so easy to flake, to get distracted, to start projects and never finish. If by some miracle you manage to get that masterpiece shrink-wrapped, you then have to put on the businessman’s hat to bring your product to market. Musicians don’t like switching hats; they feel it isn’t part of the job description.
attention save for the furtive glance at his iPhone every few seconds in case a text has arrived. Jesse is a joy to behold unless he’s on headphones mid-battle in his World of Warcraft universe. Sarah plays Mindjolt and Super Mario via Facebook while watching the Food Channel on YouTube. Did I mention we don’t have a TV? We don’t! But everyone has a computer (for homework, of course.) When I get a word in about the importance of self-mastery or using time wisely, I get that look that tells me “you are the ultimate curmudgeon on the planet!” I feel like I’m in a desperate race against the clock to get my kids to appreciate and use their free will wisely while they are still living in my home.
best in his unconventional description of hell in “If You Were God.” According to our sages, we are constantly being measured on how we are maximizing our potential. We are not judged against our peers. Instead, at the end of 120 years, we face the distinction between our potential and actual selves. The degree of difference between them is a source of tremendous humiliation, the “fires of hell,” if you will. Were you the best you that you could be? By maximizing “choose life” moments, we have a better chance of finishing the game in alignment with our greatest potential. According to author Leo Buscaglia, “Who you are is God’s gift to you, who you become is your gift to God.”
So what are we going to do with the kids this summer? Well, for starters, the ultimate Jewish pride builder: a month at Jewish summer camp. The rest of the time we’ll try to keep them away from screens as much as possible. Yes, we have to intervene…for most kids, time management is bigger than them. We will use the remaining six weeks to nurture existing hobbies and jumpstart new ones. Double up on instrument lessons, lots of Krav Maga, a filmmaking workshop. I am taking my oldest son into the wilderness for a week and will take lots of pictures so that he can look back and see that his old man cared enough to do something about it rather than just complain. And yes, we’ll see some 3D movies, visit the waterslides and go to Ben and Jerry’s. We may be strict but we’re not crazy.
My cherished custom every time I land in Florida is to head straight to the beach and jump in the glassy, warm water. The shock of the Pacific chill is absent…no wetsuit required…and the white sand unfolds to the North for hundreds of miles. Upon arriving on this last trip with my fellow Jewish singer and good buddy Todd Herzog, we dropped our bags at the beachfront hotel and davened a peaceful mincha (afternoon prayer) before jumping into the shallow blue-green playground. As we pondered the pelicans and sandpipers, Todd asked me some penetrating questions about why one would want to say the same exact words three times a day. He was curious what I get out of it. Am I was focusing on just getting the words out or am I actually thinking about meanings? Where do I add my own thoughts? And what happens on Shabbat when we stop making requests from God…what am I praying for then?
central prayer nearly 2500 years ago…and it was clearly already in use when they did so. Among their ranks were several sages of prophetic stature. They boiled down God’s will for the Jewish People in eighteen (later nineteen) crucial categories. When we repeat this menu of our deepest needs, we enact our partnership with God in bringing them to fruition. So central is this prayer to our existence that it is simply referred to as tefila (THE prayer) when discussed in the Talmud. The Sh’ma and psalms are important, but the Amidah is IT. I think Rashi says it best when he explains that l’hitpalel, or to pray, means to dream or think ultimate thoughts. We utter nineteen dreams for humanity and those dreams become part of us, defining our aspirations and clarifying our service to God.
there’s any place that you want to deeply focus and use the formulaic words of the millennia, this is it.
