The Family Portrait

February 1st, 2012

By Sam Glaser

I was mortified by the videos of Charedim taunting school-children in Beit Shemesh. I didn’t see them until I was asked to participate in the recording of a new song composed as a response of US Jewry. I immediately watched the plethora of YouTube versions of the incidents and had a visceral reaction of nausea. I had to ask myself: obviously this is horrible but why is this having such a profound impact on me?

This tragedy helped me realize that my dedication to bringing Jews together is more than skin deep. My parents made unity an essential part of my upbringing and clearly it has played a central role in my career choice. Situations that divide us as a people undo something fundamental within me. Also, becoming observant over the course of my life has given me deep respect for rabbinic authority and the realm of Charedim. I am sickened by news reports of corrupt Orthodox rabbis trafficking human organs or covering up child abuse. But that’s criminal greed and depravity behind the scenes, and depraved individuals infect every culture. There’s something uniquely damaging in blatant, public hatred for fellow Jews. Spitting on children? Throwing rocks? Disrupting school? This is my people? What can we do?

While discussing my feelings with my wise wife she directed my attention to our family portrait shot at a recent reunion. She recommended that I analyze our unique clan and expound on the differences that exist while we manage to remain a core unit of love and compassion. I have to give her credit for reminding me that if we can all get along in our microcosm, perhaps there is hope for our diverse people.

Allow me to take you on a tour of adults seated in this sweet portrait, from oldest to youngest. My dad, seated on the couch, is looking somewhat haggard thanks to the 15 grandchildren that invaded his peaceful Pacific Palisades home for the week of Sukkot.   He was raised in a WWII-era Bronx family that moved in LA while he was a teenager. He went to LA High, rebelled and joined the army instead of going to college and then took over a division of his dad’s garment company. He went from his Orthodox upbringing to eventually join one of the largest Conservative synagogues in LA, Sinai Temple, the congregation in which I grew up. Nowadays he regularly leins the Torah for his local Chabad and actively engages in the passion of his retirement years: studying and teaching Jewish history.

Next to him with a baby on her lap is my beloved mom who was able to cook for this whole crew and still keep a smile on her face. She grew up in a staunch left wing Reform household in Sacramento. Her dad, Bill Berman, blew the shofar in their temple on Rosh Hashana, led epic seders for all of us happy grandkids and her mom founded the local Hadassah chapter. Thanks to her love of Israeli folk dancing and handsome Israeli men, we had a continuous stream of sabras in our home. These contacts provided us with scores of Israeli friends to visit on our frequent trips to the Holy Land and a comfort level with folk dancing that would get us through many an Oneg Shabbat. Thanks to the influence of her sons, my mom became a founding member of her Chabad and her famously open home is one of the few in the area in which the kashrut is trusted.

Next comes me and my wife Shira. We both came from an observance-free singlehood knowing that eventually we wanted community in our lives. We fell in love with a neighborhood that came to life each Shabbat and where family life was the rule rather than the beachside exception. Our children are a spicy mix of my Romanian and Lithuanian background and her Italian and Argentine roots, worldly, Modern Orthodox and hip. My brother Aharon, seated on the far left, is a powerful rabbi influenced by the teachings of Rabbi Nachman of Breslav. He and his wife Chava Dena excel in Jewish outreach to twenty-something singles near Toronto, where they live with their two young daughters. He is living proof that you can have s’micha and still wear jeans.

Next brother, on the far right, is Yom Tov. I guess it’s appropriate that he’s sitting on the far right. He’s the frumest person I have ever met, other than his wife Leah, and yet he insists to me that he’s not frum. He is raising his eight amazing kids near Mea Shearim in Jerusalem and has dedicated his life to loving the Jewish people with Torah and song. If Charedim ever needed a poster child it’s right now; and I elect my brother. Finally, my youngest brother Joey and his wife Jen are raising their two boys (and another on the way!) in San Diego. These rambunctious guys are a potent mix of Glaser/Berman genes and Jennifer’s Dutch and Indonesian beauty. Their kids attend a Reform Hebrew school and they belong to both Reform and Conservative synagogues. They have a beautiful Shabbat ceremony in their home every Friday night, have an epic Sukkah in their lush suburban backyard and serve as role models to their fortunate friends.

I’m sharing this gory detail to point out that in spite of our many differences we find common ground and celebrate our love for one another. Yes, there are frustrating moments like dealing with degrees of kashrut on Pesach and accepted sleeve length. Certain cousins hug the opposite sex, others can’t be touched. We have to negotiate how to attend extended family simchas when they fall on Shabbat but we ALWAYS go. The cousins may come from three countries and dress differently but perceive they are one family. Jennifer told me that her kids went into mourning when their Chassidic cousins returned to Israel. We know that together we are strong and we need desperately each other and we have far more in common than those details that divide us. Sound familiar? This is the story of the Jewish people. We are like five fingers on one hand.

My dad has had a recurring mantra throughout his life. He wants his four boys to get along. Any time we are bickering or if any of us is in need, my dad gets on the phone and prods us to call and check in with the relevant brother. He is a fan of intervention and has taught us the value of facing issues and not sweeping our pain under the rug. I intuit that God feels the same way with God’s own children. Our internal strife as a people creates disunity in the heavens. Want to make God happy? Get God’s chosen people on the same page, not just tolerating each other but looking out for and loving one another.

Back to Beit Shemesh, the answer, I believe has to come from responding to radical hatred with radical love for all Jews. We have to redouble our efforts to find common ground, to expose our unity in YouTube videos highlighting our cooperation. The overwhelming majority of Charedim are peace loving and tolerant and they must be first in line to fill the airwaves with their outrage and protest in the streets. More than ever, they need to leave their cocoons and hit the streets looking for relationships with those less religious. My family thrives even amidst our myriad theological conflicts. Spending time together forces biases and stereotypes on the table, requiring that we find solutions to survive. The problems start when we are only functioning in isolation from one another. Imagine the kiddush Hashem (sanctification of God’s Name) if the response to this current media-fueled debacle becomes a worldwide campaign for reconciliation between our various movements.

Clearly, healing for the Beit Shemesh community must begin

with the punishment of the perpetrators of this desecration. They cannot continue to abuse the system and avoid the consequences of the ripple effect of their insensitivity. One of the basic seven laws of humanity is to set up a system of courts and uphold justice. Israeli police cannot tiptoe around the offenders for fear of Charedi riots. There must be teeth in the punishment of hate crimes for us to hold up our heads up as a Light unto Nations. As the Midrash says, ”Whoever is kind to the cruel will end up being cruel to the kind.” Rabbi Yitzchak Schochet of the UK stated, “We must be intolerant in order to defend tolerance, or unkind in order to defend kindness, or hateful in order to defend what we love. Such ‘acts of terror’ have no place in any democratic society, let alone a Jewish State, whose “ways are kind ways, and all her paths are peace.”

Mirroring the diversity of Jewish people, the Glaser family is a diverse tapestry of colorful personalities. The backside of any tapestry is a chaotic series of clashing threads and knots. The media, in its effort to be newsworthy and controversial, directs our gaze at the knots of life. Our job as a people is to focus our attention on the heavenly view of the tapestry, on the smoothly presented work of art that is our national destiny. There must be recrimination for those who choose to destroy our work of art.   But at the same time we can make it our personal responsibility to tie more knots, weave more patterns and repair the rent masterpiece.

It is not by coincidence that the code of Jewish law that guides Jewish lives is called the Shulchan Aruch, the set table. Our golden path, halacha, can resemble a sumptuous banquet that would make anyone salivate, whetting their appetite for more. A true tzadik has magnetism and warmth, a harmonious, peaceful neshama where the inside is at parity with the outside. Righteousness is not determined by wearing long black coats, beards and peyot. Let our generation be known as master chefs, those who create a heaven on earth, a feast of life grounded in tradition and filled with love and compassion. This is the Judaism that is in our grasp. This is the Judaism that is beyond denominations. Let us become the role models that will inspire our children and children’s children. God can handle affronts to God. Our job on earth is to look out for each other.


Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Posted in Uncategorized | No Comments »

The Reform Biennial: The Good, the Bad and the Plenary

December 21st, 2011

 by Sam Glaser

 I am writing this newsletter on the road during my 2011 Chanukah tour. It is as varied an itinerary as can be imagined in the Jewish world; a whirlwind of performing for Reform, Conservative and Orthodox synagogues, religious and day schools and a retirement home. This is my eighteenth Chanukah on the road, a time that is often difficult since I am gone for weeks rather than my typical every-other-weekend schedule, but is also the period when I relish in the joy of having so much time to interact with out-of-town friends old and new and reflect on the year gone by.

I began this adventure at the new Gaylord National Convention Center, a mega hotel complex just south of Washington DC that easily housed the 6000 delegates of the Reform Biennial. I have performed at several of these events but this one felt special. It ran like a well-oiled machine with a record number of participants and myriad opportunities for study, conducting the business of the movement and power-schmoozing. An impressive list of my musical peers was on hand to add a creative touch to the proceedings and a well stocked exhibit hall of Judaica from around the world was a shopper’s delight. I couldn’t walk more than a few feet without being embraced by the membership and clergy of synagogues where I have performed over the years.

 There were two highlights of the conference for me. One was the climax of Craig Taubman’s standing-room-only concert when he invited me to the stage to sing a spiritual version Maoz Tzur. It takes a big man to open up a very tight set list to let another artist share the spotlight. For me, it was a moment of redemption. My own concert earlier that day was scheduled during a plethora of breakout sessions and so the numbers in the audience were limited. I have a suspicion that those individuals that program the concert slots aren’t quite sure what to make of their frum, tzitzit-wearing friend Sam, in spite of the fact that most of my shows on my annual 50 city tours are in non-Orthodox synagogues. That day happened to be my birthday, and I was questioning the wisdom of accepting the invitation to attend in the first place rather than celebrating with my family. Having the chance to share in the intense spirit of a packed house for a show unopposed by other programming gave me and hopefully the audience a powerful high. I’m grateful to Craig for this gift.

 The other highlight was a pair of late night jams. I had just finished a midnight hour and a half kumzitz where I led a continuous medley of all tunes Jewish, Beatles and Broadway. With little strength left after such a long day I wandered through the lobby on the way back to my room. There I saw a group of the new wave of immensely talented young Jewish musicians who had just been kicked out of the lobby bar after last call. We started singing and were asked to find somewhere else to make noise. I dragged them back to the stage where the other kumzitz had just ended and we began another few hours of going around the circle sharing new musical creations with one another. Every musician had either a keyboard, guitar or percussion in hand and lent their voices to one another’s songs. The collaboration was organic and the support and love for one another was palpable. I must say I have renewed hope that in spite of the economics of downloads, loss of our distributors and financially ravaged synagogues, there is a HUGE future in Jewish music.

Plenary sessions can be inspiring or a grind. Imagine attending two three-hour banquets per day but you don’t even get the tepid chicken dinner. These were the programs where Obama, Eric Cantor, Ehud Barak and Natan Sharansky held court. I’ve been to enough Biennials and GA conferences to predict the exact script of each of these speeches. The politicians impress the audience with teleprompter readings of exactly what the constituent population wants to hear, pausing at preset moments for applause and standing ovations, posing for the photo with the movement leaders and then running to the waiting helicopter. Yes, it’s exciting to be in the room with the political giants of our day. But the succession of humorless soundbites leaves one wishing for a left turn, a bit of levity, a novel idea. The rest of the plenary sessions were chock full of congratulations for incoming or outgoing movement executives, showcasing programming and waiting for videos that usually didn’t work. No one was forcing me to be there. I attended the plenaries because I deeply want to see innovations, to be inspired, to feel hopeful for this largest movement on the American Jewish scene.

 A few things really got my goat. Over the days of the conference I heard many times references to the Reform’s iconic principle of “informed choice.” Informed choice requires that the chooser have all the possibilities at his or her disposal. It also requires a Jewishly educated laity. Real pluralism tolerates and engages all aspects of the spectrum of the Jewish people. Instead, I found many speakers to be defensive, taking a stand against tradition and using the word Reform to excess. In other words, rather than just say, I’m a Jew, the phrase continuously repeated was, “since I’m a Reform Jew,” “as Reform Jews we…” or, “I am proud to be a Reform Jew.” Jewish pride is great, but in many cases the speakers missed the chance to bring the conference a feeling of belonging to the greater whole of our glorious people.

 This idea of pluralism also must take into account the presence of Reform Jews with right wing leanings. I heard closet conservatives whispering amongst themselves in fear of political backlash. The AIPAC meet and greet was nearly empty in spite of the free cocktails. Applause for Republican Congressman Eric Cantor was guarded. Discouraging words are seldom heard in the interest of political correctness. Where is the famous Reform openness and tolerance here?

 While I’m venting, the basic food groups of the Jewish menu such as tefillin, respect for the laws of Shabbat or kashrut were absent. I asked if there were any provisions for kosher meals and the few provided had been sold out in advance. No kosher deli booth among the multitude of dining options, nothing with a hechsher for the many exhibitors, visitors and attendees who might appreciate such a concession. I lived on store bought bagels and salad for the duration of the conference. Attendees had to reach into their wallets over the course of Shabbat and cell phones were plentiful. I heard lots of calls for outreach…what would it hurt to have some outreach towards those on the traditional end of the spectrum?

 I know some of my readers are thinking: “you idiot! If you don’t like it, go to the Chabad convention next time.” But that’s missing the point.   I have seen in my short career the “running for the exit” of my generation. The URJ youth director informed me that 80% of Reform kids leave Judaism after Bar/Bat Mitzvah. Gone. For good. Only 15% of those that identify as Reform Jews report any involvement at all in Jewish organizational life. More than half say they have not attended a synagogue within the past year and cannot read Hebrew. Ours is a generation that needs the power of a living Torah and the skeletal support system of mitzvot on which to hang the flesh of our spiritual lives. If it works for Orthodoxy throughout the millennia, there must be something to it. A strong Reform Judaism that has a grasp of these crucial fundamentals and includes them in the wealth of Jewish choices offered will be a movement that will attract American youth.   My friends, this isn’t Reform vs. Conservative vs. Orthodox. Any failure of the Reform movement is the failure of Judaism.

 I was brought up in the Reform/Conservative realm and can attest to the fact that there is a way to ensure vibrant Judaism in the present and continuity in the future. Reform Jews are amongst the most dynamic, forward thinking, innovative and challenging of our people. They have the civic passion of Avraham while Orthodox Jews have the stringency of Yitzchak. Now is the time to come together in balance like Yaakov, with vibrant education, great music, and a love rather than fear of tradition. I know personally the power of Reform camping, prayer, social justice. I sang into the night with the new generation of teens and twenty-something leaders, educators and musicians. What’s done is done…but let’s get this new generation hip to mitzvot, giving them tools to have a full Shabbat every week, rejoice in the power of the holidays, to see that tefillin are cool and that opting for “pork sliders” and shrimp sushi is opting out.

 The departing leader of the movement, Rabbi Eric Yoffie, gave a fascinating presidential sermon on Shabbat. His daughter has become a Modern Orthodox Jew. He said the following:

 ”When I look at Adina, I see someone who has put God and Torah at the center of her life. In her high school days, she would often challenge me. Judaism is of transcendent importance or it is not, she would say. And if you don’t believe in your gut that Judaism matters to an existing God, why bother?…Do I regret her religious choices? Absolutely not. She has chosen a path that I would not choose, but it is a worthy path. We continue our discussions, which are both vigorous and loving. And every time we do so, I think about the need to respect religious approaches other than my own. This is a subject on which I need reminding, from time to time. I am a combative person; I see myself as a defender of Reform Judaism; I am quick to offer a fierce defense of my liberal principles. But sitting across from my daughter and knowing the thoughtfulness of her convictions, it is respect that I feel and express; and I remind myself to stress the authenticity of my beliefs rather than what I may see as the shortcomings of hers. This above all is what I have learned from my daughter: that if we hope to engage our children, we will need to provide those answers – answers that are religiously compelling and intellectually engaging, as well as authentically Reform…this means making it clear that as Reform Jews, there are things that God expects of us. This means saying that ritual opens us to the sacred and gives structure to the holy. This means affirming our belief that if ritual dies, Judaism dies; it is only a matter of time. This means proclaiming that Shabbat is a God-given duty, even as we know that there are many, many ways for a Jew to fulfill that duty.”

 May Rabbi Yoffie’s wisdom permeate liberal Judaism. Let us give our kids real “informed choice” and let the chips fall where they may. Let us open the gates of tolerance to all branches of Judaism and not just to LGBT’s and the intermarried. If any movement in Judaism is going to make radical changes it will be Reform. They have done so as they have shifted to a Zionist platform and evolved from Classical Reform to a movement that was able to adopt the latest batch of Ten Principles and davens with the beautiful Mishkan T’fila siddur. I’d like to be first in line to work with the Reform movement on a task force to create true pluralism, informed choice and full spectrum Jewish education. It may be too late for the millions that have chosen to disregard the chosen people. But for those incredible young folks who were singing with me at Biennial into the wee hours of the night of their love for God, let’s give them a fighting chance at having Jewish grandchildren. Is it fair that only Rabbi Yoffie be assured of such a luxury?

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Posted in Uncategorized | No Comments »

The United States of Israel

November 23rd, 2011

by Sam Glaser

America IsraelAs Thanksgiving rolls around, I’ve been reflecting on just why it is that turkey and Thanksgiving are both called hodu in Hebrew, and what comes to mind is how much we Jews in America have to be grateful for and how our destinies are intertwined. Thanks to the wisdom of fathers of the constitution, Jews were given a sanctuary in the West where they could flourish in freedom. As a people, we are living proof of the power of free markets, access to education and social mobility. My grandpa came to this country as a penniless teenager from a “one-horse town” in Transylvania. In the very next generation his three sons rose to prominence: a graduate from Harvard Law, a garment industry tycoon and an attorney/opera impresario. As remarkable as our family saga is, we are certainly not alone.  This past year on my concert tour I enjoyed an eye-opening view of the depth of this symbiotic relationship between the Land of the Free and the People of the Book.

Last Purim it was my daughter Sarah’s turn to join me on a business trip. My travels took me to Philly for a few shows in Mainline and Yardley and I made sure we had a full day to do fun stuff in between. The natural thing to do in the city of brotherly love is to run the Rocky Steps,

SamSarahPhillyvisit Independence Hall and for us kosher consumers, hit the vegan dim sum place downtown. One thing that I didn’t expect was to be embraced by the Jewish angle everywhere we turned. Sure, the Liberty Bell quotes our Torah, “Proclaim liberty throughout all the land…” but the full realization of our contribution was apparent after visiting the two most prominent tourist traps in the center of town. One is the hi-tech Constitution Center where Jewish ideology is credited in guiding the vision of our founding fathers. They were deeply religious men that took their cues from the bible and even considered making Hebrew the national tongue. Some of the tourists, upon seeing my kippah stated: “we love the Jewish people” or “we stand with Israel.” Of course the Jews that stopped us said, “oh, do you know ‘so and so’ from Sherman Oaks?” We saw exhibits that listed prominent Jews in government, building the economy and marching for civil rights. I could see the pride in Sarah’s fifth-grade eyes as she looked for clues of her heritage in this beautifully realized testimony to our grand American democratic experiment.

Sarah4PresidentAcross the street is the spanking new National Museum of American Jewish History. It’s a stunning 100,000 square foot, five story, state-of-the-art nachas factory for members of the tribe. We began the historical journey on the fourth floor in the mid-1600′s and emerged a few hours later in the present day where we pondered Irving Berlin’s piano, Spielberg’s films and Sandy Koufax’s mitt. I think this multimedia exploration of Jewish accomplishment should be mandatory viewing for all Americans; anti-Semitic bias fades in the light of contributions we’ve made or the degree in which Judaism has informed this country’s values. My Reform friends shared our enthusiasm at the intense degree of Jewish pride furnished by the experience. My Orthodox friends shuddered in horror at the $100 million plus bill that otherwise could have financed Philly Jewish day schools for perpetuity.

Fast forward from Purim to Yom Ha-ki-Purim. I had the great thrill of introducing my family to the wonder of Washington DC during my new gig leading High Holidays at Temple Emanuel in Virginia Beach. Rosh Hashana weekend coincided with the annual VB end of summer Neptune Festival. Our mile long walk to shul along the beach boardwalk took us through a busy art festival with live rock and roll on every third block. Hundreds of food stands beckoned with treif delights. My daughter remarked, “so much food and nothing’s kosher?” Sure enough, at the end of grub row was the Sabra booth where handsome young Israelis danced around while distributing free chumus and pita chips! Halleluyah!

With a week to wander Virginia before Yom Kippur I guided my family on a historic journey to Colonial Williamsburg and then continued north through Richmond up to our friend’s home in Potomac. For kids from LA where “really old stuff” is from the 1960′s, visiting these 1700′s neighborhoods was quite a treat. Well in advance of the trip I worked hard to assemble an overflowing itinerary and booked the various sights with the help of my congressman, Henry Waxman. He was able to secure for us tours of the galleries of Senate and Congress and the Supreme Court, plus a “never tell me the odds” moment: we won the lottery to obtain the rare ticket into the White House where we enjoyed a personal tour from the resident military officers and we met the Obama’s dog, Bo! Following that, my best buddy Chuck’s brother, who is a captain in the Navy, welcomed us for a two-hour insider view of the Pentagon.

One cannot visit DC and not hit the requisite monuments: we marveled at the Lincoln, Jefferson, Washington, WWII and Vietnam memorials and witnessed the beautiful new Martin Luther King statue the week of it’s public unveiling. Yes, we got to know the underground Metro very well. Finally, we powered the museums: Holocaust, National Gallery, American Art, Portrait Gallery, National Sculpture Garden, Natural History and last but not least,

our favorite, the Spy Museum! We went bowling, shopped in trendy Georgetown, visited Chinatown and the historic 6th and I synagogue, hiked to the spectacular Great Falls National Park and somehow did all this in four whirlwind days.

I’m reporting this travelogue to my dear readers not so you pity my exhausted children, but to highlight the Jewish presence in our nation’s capitol. One obvious landmark is the National Museum of the Holocaust, perhaps the most compelling testimony to the horror of Nazism on the planet. My point is that this museum isn’t hidden in a JCC. It’s one of the nineteen official Smithsonian museums and 90% of the attendees are not Jewish. Not only are we Jews free to pursue our faith in this country, but also on that imposing central mall, we occupy a place of honor, geographically and spiritually. The Smithsonian art galleries feature Chagall and Modigliani right up there with the Monets and Renoirs. We watched senators in action and my kids marveled that the two representatives from our state are proud Jewish women. By chance (is it ever really chance?) during our half hour in the Congressional gallery, the bill on the floor was an attempt by LA big business to do away with Clean Air Act provisions and was being challenged by our MOT, Congressman Waxman. Even the Spy Museum had a healthy helping of tales of the Mossad and sadly,

displays describing Jonathan Pollard and Ethel and Julius Rosenberg. A few blocks from the Lincoln Memorial lies perhaps the most important Jewish site of all: Eli’s Restaurant, a glatt kosher eatery where we rested our tired feet and feasted every night before heading back to Potomac on the Metro.

These two centuries have witnessed the Jewish people leading unprecedented gilded lives in the Golden Medina. We have struggled for acceptance, marched for tolerance and enjoyed breakthroughs in every field. The Jews are perhaps the best evidence for the potential of the cherished American value of freedom. Given the chance, the Jews manage to excel in every vocation, from Broadway to boxing, garments to gambling, physics to physique.  Jews represent .01% of the global population and 20% of the Nobel prizes, including five laureates in 2011 alone. For the past century, Jewish Hollywood has defined the American Dream and exported that mythology to a world hungry for hope.

It is my prayer that we baffle the demographers that preach our demise with a Jewish renaissance in our beloved home away from Homeland. The answer for us Jews is simple. Affiliate, propagate, reach out, focus on one mitzvah at time, and have fun in the process. No need to reinvent the wheel. The Jewish People have the answer for survival and the United States, by adopting our mission statement, will God-willing continue to share our mission as a light unto nations. Have a happy Thanksgiving.

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,
Posted in Uncategorized | No Comments »

Can One Be Jewish Without Belief in God?

October 28th, 2011
by Sam Glaser

 

4H CloverI spent half my life agnostic and the balance, God-focused.  Growing up in a Los Angeles-based Conservative Jewish family, we never dabbled in theology but relished in our culture and peoplehood.  In the synagogue, our clergy and teachers presented everything other than belief, concentrating on what I like to call the four H’s: Holy Land, Holocaust, Hebrew and Holidays.  I can testify that there is plenty within these parameters to fill a Jewish soul with meaning and substance; one can live a happy and very Jewish life, cradle to grave.

 

That said, I think there’s a fifth “H” in the formula and that’s Holiness.  I’m hard pressed to recommend a way to incorporate this core Jewish value without bringing God into the picture. Post-college I started asking fundamental questions, comparing my feelings of universal connectedness to the teachings of Judaism.  On a trip to Israel in 1985 my light was turned on.  I discovered that in Jerusalem, living a holy life with 24/7 belief in God was natural, normal, even fashionable.  I could have lived my whole life in the Southern California fast lane and never opened this can of worms.Many of my deepest intuitions about God were confirmed in that City of Gold and although I didn’t realize it at the time, my Jewish “pilot light” was primed to explode.

 

After that trip I lived with a generous helping of cognitive dissonance since my life back in L.A. didn’t flow with the rigorous lifestyle of believers. However, try as I may, I could not go back to sleep, to return to my comfortable “unexamined life.”  After a few years in limbo I decided to take a few proactive steps to get back on the holiness track. It seems that that this “fifth H” was free in Jerusalem but in L.A. I was going to have to work for it.  One crucial step was moving into a Jewish community.  Living close to a synagogue (or in my case forty of them) was essential to normalizing a God-focused consciousness.  I don’t think I had the moral strength to make these spiritual strides in a vacuum.  Perhaps this is why God invented peer pressure.

 

The other change was my committing to Shabbat. I think Shabbat Candlesthe Torah emphasizes this ritual over any other because it offers consistent physical, financial and emotional evidence that one is serious about the relationship.  You can’t hope your marriage will last if you insist on flings on the side.  I remember my last gig on Shabbat: it was clear to me that the exponential growth that I was experiencing didn’t jive with the driving, shlepping gear, plugging in and getting a paycheck.  Thanks to the infernal power of Commitment, just like my marriage has bloomed beyond my wildest expectations, so too has my love affair with the Creator of the universe.

 

I resonate with the popular parable of the miserable bird in the Garden of Eden.  The bird complains to God that all the other animals have arms and hands and it is stuck with burdensome appendages at its sides.  God then explains that those strange limbs are actually wings and with them the bird can FLY!  Of course, this story teaches us that the mitzvot are our wings, not the burden that we might have thought.  For me, the clumsy appendages were the dietary restrictions that I ignored, the day of rest on which I trampled and the idea of standing in a sanctuary singing words I didn’t understand.  Like most Jews I was content to do it “My Way” and live with a vague, hibernating feeling of guilt.

 

Bird in HandIn the first half of my life, Judaism was relaxed and sweet; questions of belief in God rarely came up and that was fine.  I loved my Jewish summer camp memories, learned enough for my Bar Mitzvah that I didn’t feel like an imbecile in the synagogue and could appreciate a good deli sandwich.  Then I was shown a path and eventually took a series of baby steps towards commitment.  God gives each of us permission to take the journey in Deuteronomy:  This commandment that I set before you today is neither remote nor inaccessable from you.  It is not in heaven, so that you should say, “Why shall ascend to the heavens and bring it down to us so that we can understand it and keep it?”  It is not beyond the sea, so that you should ask, “Who will cross the sea and bring it back for us so that we can understand and keep it?”  Indeed, it is very close to you – it is in your mouth and in your heart, so that you can keep it.

 

Sure, one can be Jewish without belief in God. But I believe the Jewish people were meant to fly.

 

Posted in Uncategorized | No Comments »

Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door

September 20th, 2011
By Sam Glaser

Heaven's DoorJuly 8th was a deliciously brisk, sunny day in Vancouver, Canada.  I took my family on a mountain bike adventure through one of the most gorgeous urban parks on the globe, Stanley Park.  As we careened down bike paths and trails I did my best to capture the moment with my handy Canon compact camera. Regretfully, I tried the “stupid dad trick” of shooting video while riding.  At considerable speed.  In the process I just barely grabbed the front brake lever by accident and the finely tuned rental bike seized up and flipped me over the handlebars.  I broke my fall with my hands and cut up one of my palms pretty badly.  Embarrassed by all the attention, I quickly dusted myself off and got back on the bike to catch up to family who were well ahead and oblivious to my aerial dexterity.

 

Thankfully a nearby lifeguard patched up my wound and we finished this dream ride that I was so excited to share with my family.  Then we went on a six-mile hike into the Canadian Rockies that began with the crossing of the famous Lynn Canyon suspension bridge.  biking stanleySpectacular deep green forest and a chain of pristine lakes graced this beautiful trail. A few miles in and my wrist started to throb.  I figured I was letting too much blood get to the area because I was hiking with my arms hanging down.  I fashioned a sling out of one of my kid’s sweatshirts and that took care of the discomfort.  But something told me that I messed myself up worse than I initially suspected.

 

Back in Downtown Vancouver my wrist was now double in size and super sensitive to touch.  Not a good thing for a piano player.  I walked with my kids over to the emergency room and waited with a sad variety of patients with problems much worse than mine.  I finally walked impatiently over to the window to get an update.  The cheery attendant told me that I would have at least a three-hour wait to be seen, longer than that to get an x-ray, and be charged a minimum of $800 that may or may not be covered by my US insurance. All this and Shabbat was coming in an hour.  I opted to bail on the emergency idea, bought a sling and a wrist brace at the drug store and returned to our 33rd floor hotel room.

 

We had a beautiful Shabbat dinner over the lights of Vancouver.  I was able to ignore my swollen wrist thanks to three Advils and a fine Canadian ale.  The next morning we walked over to the local Chabad where there was a standing-room-only crowd for services.  Thankfully Mussaf was followed with a hearty lunch where I had the chance to shmooze with a few local doctors.  All of them told me to get an x-ray.  Several others told me to check my mezuzot.  The x-ray I understand.  But check my mezuzot?  That seems to be a standard Lubavitch response to preventing seemingly random mishaps.

 

After returning from our wonderful trip I kept thinking, “maybe I should check those mezuzot after all.”  Then I’d reason, “what could have gone wrong with them…they are just hanging there and no one is messing with them.” In the meantime, our local hand and wrist specialist gave me a removable cast to immobilize the hairline fracture where my wrist bone meets my thumb.  This allowed me to continue to play my gigs over the month but isolate the area the rest of mezuzahthe time. I was well on the mend but couldn’t shake that superstitious mezuzah mantra.  One morning I couldn’t stand it anymore.  I counted twenty mezuzot in our house, including my recording studio.  I asked my neighborhood sofrim (scribes) what was involved with checking them.  A $200 house call plus $7 per mezuzah to check plus repairs if needed, plus new parchments if there were irreparable issues.  Thankfully, the new rabbi at the shul down the street is also a sofer and was willing to do it without the house call fee.  OK…you got a deal!

 

The whole exercise of putting up mezuzot in our home came into question.  Why do we bother affixing parchment with ancient hieroglyphics to our every entrance? (other than closets or bathrooms, of course.)  What has motivated Jews over the course of history to do so at their peril knowing that anti-Semites are on the prowl?  Why would God command such a strange thing, and then command us to repeat the exact wording of that very commandment twice a day?  First I’ll tell you what happened and then I’ll explore the answers I discovered.

 

This sweet, unassuming rabbi carefully took down every single mezuzah in our home, using great care to keep the batim (housing) and the scrolls together.  He sat at the desk in my studio with a powerful magnifying glass and scrutinized each one.  Seven of the twenty were posul (not fit for use.)  The two on our front and back door had weathered to point where they were unreadable. Many of the others had letters that had worn out or were improperly formed in the first place, rendering them useless.  Some were reparable; he was able to scrape away ink where letters were touching and clean them up so that they could be put back into service.  I know some of you are thinking: “this guy just wanted to sell me more mezuzot!” But he went to great pains to show me exactly why each one was deficient and explained the detailed halacha why certain things can’t be repaired.  We received many mezuzot as housewarming gifts sixteen years ago…let the buyer beware…you have to get a scroll from a certified scribe or reputable store.

 

The total bill came to $450.  Ouch.  Seven new scrolls, the inspection fee and some new waterproof batim for the outside doors.  This is going to sound weird but as soon as he hung the final now kosher mezuzah I felt a surreal sense of light and healing pervade our home.  Like everything was going to be OK.  I wasn’t thrilled about writing that check but in retrospect it’s the best money I’ve spent in a long time.  Kosher mezuzot are an intangible but invaluable asset to any home. I have an indescribable sense that doing this mitzvah right really does make a difference.  I even booked three gigs that first week!

 

The rabbis insist that a mezuzah is not an amulet.  The magic of the parchment is the same as fulfilling any mitzvah – the power of enhancing one’s connection with the Commander-in-chief. However, there are a few sources that resonate with the concept of protection.  King David writes “God will guard your going and coming for all time,” a hint towards the efficacy of the mezuzah. The Talmud mentions that the mezuzah is special in that it serves as a conduit for Divine blessings for the home and its inhabitants.  Perhaps it’s because it heightens our awareness that a home has the capacity for holiness; it’s more than just a place to hang our hat.  That simple act of reaching to kiss a mezuzah when you pass through a gateway has a powerful effect on one’s consciousness.  It’s like my house wears tefillin!

 

All this doorpost drama was unfolding during the Torah portion of Shoftim.  It opens with the famous line “Judges and officers shall you appoint in your gates.”  Emphasizing the establishment of judicial systems is one of the great contributions of the Jewish People to the world.  But there is a grammatical concept that begs inspection here: “YOUR gates” is in the singular, not plural.  In other words, we have to appoint judges and officers in our personal gates.  Renowned kabbalist GuardRabbi Chaim Vital claims that these gates refer to our sensory organs: sight, hearing, taste, touch, smell.  Just like a mezuzah offers protection at the entrance to any given room, we must establish a spiritual guardian at the source of input into our lives.  We live in an age of 24/7 bombardment of the senses.  It is more relevant now than ever that our gates are guarded to monitor the input.  How much news do I need to hear?  How much TV?   Do I need to see every blockbuster movie?  What dosage of violence, sex, gossip is appropriate?  Is this something I should eat?  Is this someone I should touch? Without sounding like Church Lady, in this passage clearly God is sending us a much-needed prescription for spiritual living.

 

A chassid approached his rabbi to complain that he couldn’t keep sexual thoughts off his mind.  He felt helpless and despondent, unable to focus on his learning and prayer.  The rabbi recommended that the chassid go to a certain home at the edge of the town and ask to speak to the owner.  The chassid dutifully walked the distance and knocked on the door several times.  No one answered so the chassid sat down and waited.  Eventually he fell asleep and was awakened the next morning when the man inside finally answered the door. The chassid stated, “how could you have left me out here all night?”  The man replied, “I chose not to let you in.”  The chassid was furious and reported the incident to his rabbi who replied, “only we can decide what or who comes in or out.”

 

One of the best ways I’ve found to break with the societal norm of letting everything in the “gates” of the senses is the gift of Shabbat.  The full cessation of using anything with a screen reminds us that we can indeed break free if we so choose.  I have my kids turn off cell phones and computers completely, not only to save the battery life, but to increase the sense of freedom from those machines that overwhelm us with input.  Twenty-five hours of peace has never been so great a gift as it is in our high tech, gadget filled times.

 

Speaking of gates, my brother Aharon requested that I sing my Pitchu Li song at his wedding.  This ballad from Hineni, my first Jewish album has always been one of his favorites.  He asked me, do you know what the “gate of righteousness” is that the psalmist was hoping to open?  I sheepishly said, “no, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”  He replied that the best gateway to achieve righteousness is that of mastering gratitude. Now it all comes together: by guarding our personal gates or senses, we are more apt to let the space for holiness take root, and in the process deepen our appreciation of God’s gifts in our lives.

 

Please allow me one final insight.  The Torah dictates that we are required to let slaves go free in the seventh year.  The sabbatical laws state that a slave who prefers to stay with his host family must be taken to the doorpost and have his ear pierced with an awl.  This is the symbol of his having relinquished his right to freedom, wounding him in the very ear that heard the imperative for liberty at Mt. Sinai.  It was also on the doorpostthat we were commanded to sprinkle lamb’s blood so that the angel of death would “pass over” our homes during the final plague in Egypt. Something about this parchment on our doorpost brings us right back to this concept of freedom. By electing to fulfill God’s will and affix a mezuzah, regardless of what the neighbors think about our strange customs, we are walking in the shoes of those generations before that have used their freedom to connect with the Almighty.

 

Therefore our communal love of this mitzvah in spite of possible danger makes sense.  Yes, the mezuzah on the door reveals our faith to our enemies.  But rather than serve as our undoing, it is the very essence of our survival, the core of our protection over the millennia.  Happy HomeBy using our freedom to enter the realm of the servant/Master relationship, we connect with eternity.  It is no wonder God commands us to repeat this mitzvah orally twice a day.  In fact we conclude the crucial V’ahavta paragraph with the word “gates.” Accepting God’s partnership in the guarding of our physical and spiritual gates is the key to our success as individuals and as a people.  Just like the lesson we learn when we leave our comfortable homes on Succot, the mezuzah reminds us of the true source of our protection.

 

Before my parents became frum, my brothers and I convinced them to put up mezuzot in all the rooms of their house, not just the front door.  They did so at great expense – they had a big, beautiful home that they eventually sold to actor Dustin Hoffman.  We also had to convince them to leave the mezuzot up when they moved out.  Jewish law dictates that if you know you are selling to a Jew you don’t take the mezuzot with you when you go. My folks weren’t terribly happy about leaving this small fortune in parchment on the walls for Mr. Hoffman, but were committed to doing the right thing.  I’m confident that the reward in heaven far exceeds the money they had to spend for new scrolls.

 

I’m not sure if it’s due to our new certified-kosher mezuzot but God has slowly but surely returned my wrist to full function.  I still marvel at the clean new skin where an open wound festered a mere month before. I’m back to hammering my left hand octaves and carrying my suitcases.  I’ve even gotten back on my bike and yes, I am avoiding the temptation to film as I ride.  Reach up for your doorposts.  Is there a mezuzah there? Protect the spiritual gates of your home with a piece of parchment with God’s prayers for creation, written by the hand of a holy scribe.  Protect your personal gates by monitoring the input you subject yourself to.  Take concrete steps now to show our Creator that you are ready for a holy, healthy, happy new year filled with growth and sweetness. Shana tova umetuka!

 

Posted in Uncategorized | No Comments »

NewCAJE OutRAJE

August 24th, 2011
 

by Sam Glaser

I recently returned from the NewCAJE conference, the nascent incarnation of the Coalition for Advancement in Jewish Education.  We gathered at the American Hebrew Academy campus in sunny and steamy Greensboro, NC for five days of celebration, study and connection.  I offered an hour and a half workshop everyday and had

newcajethe rare gift of speaking about spiritual subjects close to my heart to students who were attentive and hungry for the information.  I enjoyed the chance to hear both the veterans in Jewish music perform in addition to sampling the hot, upcoming talent.  I went to amazing lectures, relished in stories from master storytellers and listened in wonderment to a fifty-voice choir that formed over the course of the conference.  And every night, from midnight till 3am, the musician insomniacs gathered in a “kumzitz mafia” jam session of outrageous proportions.

My own concert was on closing night.  I can’t describe the feeling of performing to an audience that already knows every lyric of my songs.  I asked to keep the houselights up so that I could reflect the joy visible on the faces of those whom I’ve grown to love, who have supported me onsamNchicksthis twenty-year odyssey as a Jewish composer. These are the community leaders who have rallied to bring me to their congregations, who cherish my CDs, who share my music with everyone they know.  Many of them met me when I was single and have followed my life through my engagement, marriage and rollercoaster experience as the father of three.  Scarcely a CAJE meal goes by without my having to break out pictures of the family.

It was at my first CAJE in 1992 that I met Debbie Friedman.  I had sung her songs since I was a kid at camp and now I had the chance to share the stage with her.  It just as well could have been Paul McCartney.  Well, almost. That year Julie Silver and I were the new artists debuting on the big USC stage. Just before my set the power went out and I had to sing my new Hineni song for 2000 people a capella. Concert organizers Craig Taubman and Doug Cotler pushed me out on the stage. Later Julie shared her gorgeous Sim Shalom.  I gave out my four-song demo cassette to everyone I met and started samNDebgetting invitations to perform out of town. Amazing! This year NewCAJE gave me a taste of new artists Noah Aronson and Max Jared, among others, about whom I will rave and support in their journeys.

At any given CAJE conference many of the presenters are neophytes in their field. But what other chances will they have to hone their craft in such a loving, forgiving milieu?  Veteran educators like the holy Rav Yosef Liebowitz come every year because CAJE-niks are among his best market for the distance learning that he offers from his home in Israel.  Judaica and booksellers flock to merchandise at the expo, attracted by a captive audience of dedicated Jews who will share the wares with friends back home.  I’m confident that Joel Grishaver wouldn’t have such a flourishing Torah Aura publishing company if not for CAJE, Nancy Katz wouldn’t be covering the country in painted silk and Bruce David’s amazing stained glass wouldn’t grace so many sanctuaries.

Something unique about this conference is its emphasis on pluralism.  Reform, Conservative and Orthodox learn, dine and sing together under one roof.  For most it’s the ONLY time they might witness such harmony and tolerance.  Ethics of the Fathers reminds us that a wise person is one who learns from everyone.  Only at CAJE do I really see this precept in full bloom.  CAJE is nothing less than the potential of a world redeemed. Everyone is a bit uncomfortable and everyone grows.  Girls in short shorts are confronted by the long coated mikvah man.  Orthodox rabbis become unwilling members of a flash mob that breaks out in the dining hall.  It’s easy to say in the comfort of one’s own movement that “we are all in this together.”  But CAJE isn’t the Biennial or OU conference.  It’s a true spiritual coalition, where all the colorful members of the tribe have something to add.

I have performed and taught at this conference some nineteen times.  CAJE has become a benchmark in my year, the start of my post-summer touring season and a good excuse to finish new recordings. Traditionally, upwards of 1500 educators, rabbis, cantors, composers, storytellers and artists meet at a roving series of university campuses for this special week of sharing, learning and song.  Perhaps the most compelling reason samNsingersthat they return is the camaraderie.  There is no price tag one can put on belonging to such an esteemed, generous family.  Tragically, teachers are usually on the low end of the socio-economic totem pole.  The individuals that we empower to bring the newest generations into the fold can barely afford to live in the neighborhoods of the synagogues they serve.  CAJE gives these righteous individuals a chance to stand up and be recognized and appreciated.  It’s renewing, refreshing and rewarding.  Some chastise the organization and say it’s nothing more than Jewish summer camp. But if summer camp is the “great white hope” for our kids, then why can’t the teachers of our students have their moment in the sun?

Now I’m going to get on my soapbox.  In March of 2009 CAJE went bankrupt.  It was half a million dollars in debt and still the international Jewish community let it fail.  True, this was in the aftermath of economic meltdown and Madoff.  Yes, there was too much overhead and they should have screamed louder for help.But for a statistically infinitesimal percentage of the total given to Jewish causes, CAJE could have been revived.  Individual benefactors sponsor operas, wings of University buildings and MRI machines for much more.  Who will take a stand for Jewish education?  Where are our heroes?

NewCAJE emerged out of the ashes last year. Thanks to the gumption of CAJE veterans like Cherie Koller-Fox, the conference is wobbling on new legs.  Recently Cherie was overjoyed that a $9000 matching grant was established. She’s counting on underpaid teachers to come up with funds to keep this dream alive.  My friends, NewCAJE needs $900,000 to make this happen. $9,000?  Oy!  Where are the Jewish Federations of North America?  How about a national Bureau of Jewish Education percentage of funds to this cause?  Most teachers used to have a source of funds from their synagogue or day school for annual enrichment programs.  Professional development is a cost of doing business!  This must be reinstituted so more teachers can attend. Jewish benefactors of universities need to come forward and cover the conference costs at their home institutions.  Giving opportunities for wealthy individuals abound, with naming rights!  For example, subsidizing the young leadership program, college program, new teacher recognition, veteran teacher awards, childcare, evening entertainment, fine arts.

I finished my NewCAJE concert with a rendition of Debbie Friedman’s moving Tfilat Haderech. It’s the very song that I sang with my fellow musicians at her gravesite after everyone else had left the funeral.  It’s the song I chose to sing at the Los Angeles commemoration of her Shloshim.  It will be the only “cover tune” on my next Jewish CD.  I brought with me the brand new instrumental tracks that I had just recorded with my band and set up some high quality stereo mics to record the NewCAJE audience on an endless series of tearful “amens” at the conclusion of the song.  Please listen to the track.  Hear the love shared by this amazing group of teachers.  Hear how much we miss our Debbie.  Hear how much we need and support each other.  Hear how much we need your help to spread the word.  Thanks for listening.

Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,
Posted in Uncategorized | No Comments »

Ode to the 8-Track

May 11th, 2011
by Sam Glaser

 

8TrackGrowing up in suburban America during the 60′s included a certain rite of passage: as you drove down the freeways, if you wanted to hear your favorite songs, you needed an 8-track tape player in the dash.  In one clunky cassette about the size of six iphones, a CD worth of material would play in gorgeous stereo. There were a few caveats.  You couldn’t rewind.  And when you least expected it, a metallic piece of tape signaled that it was time for the tape head to switch tracks.  That meant a somber moment of silence in the middle of movements, sometimes in the middle of your favorite song.  It wasn’t ideal but it was certainly more graceful than trying to balance your record player when changing lanes.

 

About three times a year our family would load up into our nine passenger Olds Vista Cruiser, equipped with skylights, a 450cc V8 and a trusty tape deck.On our way to Lake Tahoe, Arizona or Colorado we would sing at the top of our lungs with our favorite thirty-two 8-track tapes. That’s all that would fit in the black vinyl carrying case and that’s about all the music we owned.  We had several Beatles albums, War, Tower of Power, Carole King, Roberta Flack, Joni Mitchell, Temptations,vista cruiserShostakovich and Beethoven’s 5thsymphonies and assorted musicals.  This was also the car that became my college ride at the University of Colorado, Boulder.  A favorite collegiate pastime was stuffing the car with a dozen freshmen from the dorms, cranking the tunes and doing donuts in the Safeway parking lot on snowy nights.

 

I’d like to share an epiphany I had at an LA Philharmonic concert last week.  It was a perfect, sunny spring Sunday and I was knee deep in over thirty vocal arrangements for the half dozen CDs I am juggling for clients.  I was about to embark on 25 hours of background vocal sessions with some of the finest singing specialists that I know.  These sessions aren’t cheap to run and I wanted to make sure that every piece was ready to go with all the vocal parts, lyrics and recording templates prepared.  Midday I glanced at my calendar and remembered that the LA Phil was presenting a matinee of Beethoven’s 5th at 2pm.  One voice in my head said: “Sam, just buckle down and get these charts done.”  The victorious voice said: “you deserve a break today…” I hadn’t heard this immortal masterpiece in years and I couldn’t pass up the pleasure of hearing it performed by one of the greatest orchestras in the world in Disney Hall, one of the greatest concert halls ever constructed.

 

No, I didn’t have tickets.  And no, that doesn’t matter. There are always seats.  I have a maxim that is particularly relevant in an entertainment town like LA: you don’t get in the show if you don’t go.  In other words, “if you build it, he will come.”  I found an amazing seat for cheap just beforeDisney Hallthe show started and was treated to a few hours of symphonic bliss. Beethoven’s 5thaffects me in the most visceral way. It’s just not that I share my birthday with the great composer…I have memorized every last passage intimately and during the concert I had to force myself not to conduct.  I was even ready for that measure mid-movement when my family 8-track tape would clunk as it switched to the next section.

 

Here’s the epiphany.  I grew up getting to know certain pieces of music very deeply.  The power of knowing every crevice of my records or the wow and flutter of every 8-track creates an unmistakable magic when I revisit that music.  Repetition and commitment deepens the experience…and isn’t depth what we want out of life? After the concert I wandered downtown LA uplifted, recharged and filled with a sense of possibilities.  Rather than go right back to work I crossed the street and visited the Museum of Contemporary Art.  What a collection!  I must be a fan since I knew the names of most artists without having to look at the descriptions. The most powerful (and valuable) pieces of art are those where the creator limited him or herself to a certain medium and theme.  Rothko’s rectangles of sultry color. Jackson Pollack’s monochrome splatters.  Jasper John’s maps and flags.

 

My children on the other hand have grown up with unrefined chaos in the form of millions of YouTube videos, online games and the App Store.  All geared for a five-minute attention span.  They don’t leave home without the iPod/iPad.  Unlimited songs for free forever. And thousands more appearing daily.  It’s impossible to keep up with what’s new and knowing what’s hot is increasingly irrelevant.  There will be something hotter in a few hours.  With the landscape changing so radically everyday, there is no opportunity to make a deep musical connection.  Other than my songs, which my kids are forced to listen to just by living here, their musical diet is as fickle as KISS FM.ipad2

 

The repercussions are significant.  Are our kids processing relationships in the same way?  Instant satisfaction online does not translate well in “meat-space.”  A great conversation takes hours to nurture before one reaches revelatory territory.   So too with friendships, professional experience and reputations. There is no quick fix for the test of time.  If we didn’t kick the kids out of the house, their play dates would consist of observing each other texting, playing video games or watching The 70′s Show.  My son tries to hide his distraction when his phone vibrates with a new text. Over 2500 a month.  I smile as he fumbles for where he left off in the discussion.

 

One of my favorite rabbis, Natan Lopes Cardozo from Jerusalem, comments on the essential difference between Beethoven and Bach.  Bach was a dutiful adherent to the “rules” of music in his days.  In spite of his discipline we hear vast creativity within the confines of this Baroque construct.  Beethoven, on the other hand, broke with these accepted rules and liberated music much the way the Beatles rescued rock and roll from the doo-wop of the 50′s.  Not to dis ole Ludwig V. but there is a certain power in Bach’s approach.  Cardozo quotes the philosopher Goethe stating, “In limitation does the master really prove himself and it is only the law which can provide us with freedom.”

 

Does this sound familiar?  As we march from Pesach to Shavuot, echoing the steps of our forefathers on their way from Egypt to Sinai, we relive the reality that true freedom is within the confines of Torah.  Learning a musical instrument takes tremendous discipline and hours of practice.  Learning to live as a Jew takes a lifetime of study to master the instrument of the soul. Like Bach, within the yoke of our Torah, we compress our creativity; we deepen our context and explode in our human potential.

 

ShavuotSinai was our wedding day.  Our exclusive covenant with the Creator of the Universe. Marriage is the melding of two hearts together into an altogether new entity.  Thanks to the exclusion of all other potential mates, a couple has the chance to blossom into a symbiotic oneness.  Thanks to our willingness to discard idol worship and focus on the laws of Torah, we explode into the full blossoming of our potential as members of God’s holy nation.  It’s no surprise that Jewish law is called halacha, or path.  It’s a pathway, not a goal in and of itself.  By striving to sensitize ourselves to this path we hear God’s voice, feel God’s love supporting our every step.

 

Once a week we have the chance to recreate our commitment to our heavenly “spouse.” I have led nearly a thousand Shabbatons over the past twenty years. That seems to be my specialty, and anyone who has attended can testify that I take the celebration of Shabbat very seriously.   I, too, am driven to distraction, overwhelmed by data, news, economics and electronics. My friends, Shabbat is the very antidote to the iPod.  It’s the antidote to shallow connections with people, God, music, life.  Thanks to the restrictions of the day we are forced to deepen our focus on those things we can do, which are praying, eating, and spending quality time with one another.  That’s it.  Deep interactions, deep (and sometimes very long) prayers, great food accompanied by song, stories and laughter.  Shabbat serves as a bookend to a week of superficiality.   It gives context to the chaos, a refuge from the rat race.  Now I can’t imagine life without it.

 

Sixty years ago the 8-track tape made our favorite music portable.  A product of a simpler time, it allowed us to deepen our experience with the few dozen “desert island” albums we couldn’t live without.   It sowed the seeds for other such miraculous revolutions that allow us to keep our music close at hand.  Now I have a compass, chronograph, 12 feature films, a siddur, bible, hundreds of books, GPS, a word processor, camera, newspaper, web-browser, games and a jukebox in my pocket.  Yes, it’s a phone too.  Funny how with 1500 songs I still listen to the same 32 albums.  I have 4,300 Facebook friends but I still call my parents with big issues.  I love having choices. I don’t want to go back to my 8-track repertoire. But I’ll take my friendships deep, my food cooked with love and my God on God’s own terms.

 

Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,
Posted in Uncategorized | No Comments »

War of Worldcraft

April 12th, 2011

by Sam Glaser

 

 

WoWarcraftI’m trying to understand why I’m so perturbed by my kids wasting time glued to a screen. Perhaps it’s because my wife and I brought them into the world with the hope that they might better appreciate the gift of life.  Or at least ride their bikes once in a while. As adolescents they see the “real world” as the music, videos and TV shows that they voraciously consume. All the Jewish stuff they have to deal with in day school is a burden to be endured until they can get back online. Plugging in is a divine right.  After all, they will live forever, have all of their needs met and perish the thought of having a vacant minute.  In this generation you’re nobody until you have the latest screens of all shapes and sizes.  Entertainment options from Avatar to Jackass to funny pet videos on YouTube compete for their attention on aptly named iphones, ipads and imacs.

 

We won the battle easily when our children were younger.  We cut off our cable and except for the occasional movie night, our home was TV free.  Then something changed about five years ago.  YouTube was founded.  Bootleg websites started up with TV and film programming including feature films still in theaters. Disney.com and Nickelodeon.com became 24/7 outlets for their shows and suddenly the computers that we had in each room for their homework became TVs.  Battle lost.

 

But we had not yet met our true nemesis.  My eleven-year-old daughter opened a Facebook account to shmooze with friends, play online games and post her scores.  During her one hour TV allotment each day (ha ha!) she plays the games, watches a show and chats with mariofriends…simultaneously. I can leave for the evening and return to find her in the exact same position.  She can handle piano practice for ten minutes but as soon as it’s time to work out a tough passage I can see her desperation to unplug her brain in front of the screen.

 

Now I realize Facebook is for lightweights.  The real addicts have something much more powerful. It’s called World of Warcraft.  As in other role playing games, WOW allows my boys to wander an alien world populated by characters manned by players from around the world. They get credits and booty for kills and strive valiantly to get their creature up to the 85th level of power.  While it’s nice to see my boys cooperating to negotiate the game, I don’t appreciate that left to their own devices they would never leave the house.  After all, we live in Southern California.  They might as well live in Rochester.

 

One flaw in the gaming action is that you can’t just shut if off mid-battle.  My kids team up with other players to take down more powerful creatures and to abandon the quest is considered disloyal.  They risk losing “honor” points.  Poor parents worldwide who are calling their sons to dinner or trying to get them to brush their teeth are faced with, “not now, Dad, I can’t get away.”  That’s right, they are honoring their faceless online teammates rather than their flesh and blood parents.  Can you imagine? We hit the breaking point last week.  My oldest had once again “forgotten” he had a test, played WOW all night and then wouldn’t turn it off when my wife was going ballistic.

 

When we closed their account and banned WOW from our home my younger son seethed, “I love World of Warcraft MORE than you!”  Now they are sneaking out to 7-11 to buy game playing cards and hijacking any Wi-Fi they can find.   Anything to stay in the game.  We’re thinking it’s time for an intervention.  Yes, I’m exaggerating.  They’ll grow out of this, just like they did Pokemon, b’ezrat Hashem!

 

I think part of my opposition to this addiction is that it is so contrary to the Jewish values we desperately are trying to impart.  It’s not just the fact that my kids are annihilating virtual humanoids for fun and profit.  My wife and I try to model altruistic behavior, helping those in need, giving tzedakah, entertaining guests on Shabbat.  I run around the globe trying to increase enthusiasm for Yiddishkeit, connecting people with each other and with God through the vehicle of music. There are not enough minutes of the day to accomplish this task, let alone keep a family together and pay the bills.  Why are my kids in such great need of escape?  How can we engage them in appreciating their legacy?

 

The Jewish People are players in a grand scheme I call a “war of worldcraft.”  We are in the midst of a 3500 year peer-to-peer networking phenomenon unrivaled in history.  With courage and unrivaled stubbornness, we cleave to our ancient texts and way of life, hoping to rub off on those around us.  The Torah predicts that we will be an eternalLight Unto Nationspeople and remain few in number and yet will impact all of mankind by wandering the globe. I would argue that God’s Light Unto Nations experiment is working rather well; here is one of my favorite quotes:

 

According to historian Thomas Cahill, “The Jews started it all – and by “it” I mean so many of the things we care about, the underlying values that make all of us, Jew and Gentile, believer and atheist, tick.  Without the Jews, we would see the world with different eyes, hear with different ears, even feel with different feelings…the role of the Jews, the inventors of Western culture, is also singular: there is simply no one else remotely like them; theirs is a unique vocation.  Indeed, as we shall see, the very idea of vocation, of a personal destiny, is a Jewish idea.”

 

Pesach is a time to break free of those entities that enslave us, to get back on track with our national goal of worldcraft.  Thankfully Pharaoh is gone from the stage of history, but servitude is still with us.  We are trapped in our quest for elusive wealth, societal status, vocational advancement, material acquisition.  We are badgered by bosses, teachers, parents and peers.  We are stuck in ruts of our own making, forever battling inner demons, addictions and bad habits.  We come into this holiday well aware that the issues we complained about last year will likely be with us next year.  Does that fill you with confidence that you might enjoy real freedom this year? How can we have a breakthrough this season?

 

The opportunities during Pesach are manifold.  By edict of the Torah it must occur in the spring.  Renewal and rebirth are in the air.  Pesach is our national homecoming.  We press reset, reconvene with our people, reprioritize.  First we have to clear out the chametz.  All that yummy challah, Oreos, single malt…it’s got to go.  The rabbis tell us that the chametz represents our ego.  Big bread = big ego.  For a week we eat humble pie.  Humility is first base.  Humility gets you on the playing field.  When we aren’t full of ourselves and our entitlements, we create a space to allow for God’s peace, for transformation.

 

Next we unplug. On seder night we get together with our families, have a celebratory meal, tell our story.  Anytime I’m teaching a workshop and see people drifting off, I launch into a story.  We love stories!  Make the Pesach story real, for adults and children.  Act it out.  Wear costumes. Seder PlateDemonstrate the plagues with marshmallow hail, throw rubber frogs, wear animal masks and die on the floor for pestilence.  Just like Shabbat meals, the three ingredients for a great seder are fun, fun and fun. The key line is “b’chol dor vador…” in every generation we must see ourselves in the Exodus.  This isn’t a commemoration of something that happened to distant relatives.  It’s our story in perpetuity, in every age, with every enemy of our people that seeks the destruction of our holy mission of tikkun olam.

 

Note that Moses isn’t mentioned much in the Hagadah. This is God’s night. Pesach recalls a time when we were in our infancy as a people.  After womblike protection during the nine months of plagues we were carried through the desert by God’s grace.  We often forget that the song Let My People Go omits the end of the sentence (that they may serve me.)  In other words, on Passover, we relate to God as a tender, loving parent. Freedom is irrelevant without Torah, the instructions for life. It’s the laws, the holy pathways that God gives us that are our true freedom.  We have a simple choice: to serve God or serve man.  Choose wisely.

 

The classic seder songs were chosen by our sages for good reasons. Four Questions: Ask real questions! Inspire your kids to ask their own questions. Become a seeker of good answers. Dayenu: 15 steps of the seder parallels the 15 verses of the song; breaking down our salvation into multiple steps makes us more grateful for each miracle. Chad Gadya: there is a purpose to this grand arc of our history.  L’shana Haba’ah: we’re still in exile!  Don’t get too comfortable…healing the world is your responsibility. Finally, we finish the night with the recitation of Hallel.  It’s unlike any Hallel the rest of the year.  First of all, it’s at night and it’s woven into the meal. Secondly, we don’t introduce it with the standard blessing.  Why?  Because we don’t need to set up the mitzvah of its recitation like we normally do.  On the seder night, if we’ve done the work of clearing out our ego, eating the bread of affliction, drinking four cups of wine and singing at the top of our lungs, we are in such an exalted state that Hallel is a spontaneous outpouring of praise.  As natural as breathing.

 

If you don’t get it right the first night, well, you get to try again the next!  Holding on to the inspiration of the seder is hard work.  Make it a powerful memory!  Be a ham, drink liberally and stay up late!  A few years back I celebrated with my family in Jerusalem.  We joined my brother and his many children for a night of music and laughter that lasted until 4am. Then my brother and I wandered the streets of his shtetl; I was dressed as Pharaoh, he was my Jewish slave and our kids followed closely as we searched for lazy Jews to beat with bulrushes.  None of us will ever forget it.

 

Amazing events and the resulting inspiration are fleeting.  Somehow we have to hang on to the revelations, to internalize them and allow them to transform us.  We go into Pesach overwhelmed by the cleaning and cooking, overburdened with the rat race, oversaturated by the media.  Let’s finish the week transformed and relaxed, with new focus and commitment.  Imagine getting stuck driving through a storm and walking through the dark seeking shelter. Once in a while there’s a flash of lightning that illuminates our way.  That flash is the seder.  We can use that brilliant moment to light the way through the darkness and confusion we encounter the rest of the year.

 

Pesach gets us back in touch with the big picture.  It reminds us to treasure humility and an open heart; that the genius is in the details: in small acts of kindness, or observing seemingly small mitzvot like not over-bakingExodusmatzah by even a moment or dipping delicate greens in salt water.  We reinforce the concept that we were redeemed and are continuously redeemed from servitude so that we may serve God with love. The crowning moment of the Exodus is the revelation of God’s will in the Torah; this profound gift necessitates that we take the time to grapple with its demands.  When all is said and done we have to sing, at the top of our lungs, from the depths of our hearts.  And most importantly, we can’t let distractions like World of Warcraft derail us from our critical goal of serving as soldiers in the “war of worldcraft.”


Tags: , , , , , , ,
Posted in Uncategorized | No Comments »

The Songs We Sing (Interview)

March 30th, 2011

by Yossi Zweig

SamJeansJE Magazine: Shalom Sam. Thanks for taking a minute while you’re on the East Coast. The opening quote on your website calls you “the hardest working man in Jewish music.”  How did you get that title?

Sam Glaser: Since 1992 I have been on tour to an average of fifty cities a year. Almost 19 years now.  It makes me tired just thinking about it!  I tend to be out of town every other weekend. When I’m not on the road I have a great day job: I run a recording studio where I produce albums for clients.  I also try putting out one of my own a year.

 

JE Magazine: How do your wife and kids handle that?

SG: I’m a full time musician and I have to put food on the table!  I individually take each of my three kids with me when I am on the road…it’s a wonderful bonding time for us. I try to have quality time with them everyday I’m home.  My wife and I are good about looking out for each other. We have “date night” every Wednesday. That seems to maintain Shalom Bayit (peace in the home) better than anything.

JE Magazine: I’ve spoken to some of your fans…some of which came to the show in Sam Glaser t-shirts. Your website says you have a devoted following in all denominations. Now that I’ve seen them in person I believe it.

SG: I grew up in a Conservative synagogue, half of my concerts are in the Reform movement, I became Orthodox, my brothers became Chassidim and my parents became Chabadniks. I’m all over the map. I play all types of synagogues and make the rounds at JCCs. I’m a regular at Jewish conferences, performing at Biennial, OU, GA, Cantors Assembly, CCAR, Aish, Hadassah, CAJE, for any Jew that moves. My goal is to get people together. Enthusiastic about their heritage. Close to each other and close to God. As far as I’m concerned we’re one big happy family.  I’m the oldest of four boys and I’ve always been a “pleaser” type person, trying to make peace.  I guess it’s my destiny.  It’s a real blessing when I play a gig where all the synagogues in any given community collaborate on producing my concert.

JE Magazine: I know we hear your music all over the place but some of our readers probably don’t know it’s yours. Can you give us some ideas where we hear your stuff?

SG: Well, I have sold over 100,000 of my CDs and hopefully they are getting around. Other Jewish artists sing my songs as well.  New York’s JM in the AM had two hour-long shows of my music recently. Thank G-d we have dozens of great Jewish radio/internet stations around the country.  Have you heard about Jewish Rock Radio?  I’m a featured artist and it’s available as an App on the iphone…how cool is that?  Aish.com uses a lot of my stuff. Jewish Life Television plays a lot of my videos.  I’ve been on several of the Reform movement’s Ruach CDs. I’m on the Chabad Telethon frequently. Let’s just say that I almost never say no.

JE Magazine: What about TV stuff? Didn’t you used to do the music for the Dodgers?

SG: I spent much of the 80s and early 90s chasing that dream. Composing for commercials, TV movies, the WB Network, ESPN.  I’ve never cared much for televised sports but somehow I became the sports music guy in LA for a while.  I did music for the Dodgers, Angels, Lakers, Clippers, World Cup of Surfing, Warren Miller Ski Films. Those were the good old days, before music libraries took over, before Frostwire and everybody having a studio on their Mac. I must admit that the scoring business was somewhat empty…I felt like everything I was writing was disposable. From that perspective, I don’t miss it. I still get a soundtrack project in the studio from time to time and I appreciate the challenge.

JE Magazine: And Jewish music is filling that spiritual void?

SG: Bigtime. When I come into a city I feel totally uplifted by the audiences.  They empower me to inspire them.   It’s a symbiotic thing.  It’s that mixture of adrenaline and spontaneity and all the stars colliding. What a rush. I have a selection of a few dozen workshops I offer when I lead a Shabbat program.  I can’t explain how but there’s a power that an audience has to suck the right words out of me.  Obviously I have notes when I need them but I go into this heightened plane where I just deliver.  Playing the clubs back then was dehumanizing.  You did your 40 minute set and then got chased off the stage like cattle so the next wannabe’s could set up their gear.

JE Magazine: What’s on the horizon for you?

SG:  I have so much new material that I’m recording.  It’s got me totally stoked.  That’s California talk for really excited.  I want to release a new CD every quarter.  But my wife would kill me!  Last year I released The Songs We Sing Volume 2.  It’s a 28 song greatest hits of the Jewish People collection that took me two years to complete.  When I recorded that I also did Volume 3 at the same time.  Volume 3 is all Jewish dance music. My band doesn’t want me to release it cause they’re afraid we’ll never get booked anymore…people will just buy the CD!  I still need to do final vocals…it’s coming soon.  Next up is a secular album dedicated to my dad. It’s called Father’s Day and has songs about fatherhood, aging parents, life and loss.  God willing out this June. My next album of my original Jewish music is also in the works.  It’s called The Promise and focuses on our relationship with Israel.  After this interview I’ll play you a few cuts.

JE Magazine: I’ve been listening to your stuff since a friend gave me Across the River.  I still think it’s your best work.

SG: That was 1997!  Actually I just listened to it and I’m still proud of it.  People always think that the first album of mine they got into is the best.

JE Magazine: I think it’s safe to say that your albums are among the best produced and most heartfelt in the Jewish world.  It’s not simple music.  It’s real and powerful stuff. I hear just about everything and your CDs really tell a story and stand the test of time. But you got so many albums… this new one was number 21!?  Which ones would you recommend for newcomers?

SG: Well, first of all, thank you!  I guess I’d start with Presence and The Bridge. They were my first albums freed from the limits of tape machines.  You have to understand that unlimited tracks with digital recording was like a miracle for us producer types.  Finally I could get these sounds in my head out in the world without any technological compromises. Hallel is ideal for a long drive.  If you like nigunim (songs without words) and a more traditional Jewish sound, my Nigun/Voice of the Soul is really rich and features RebbeSoul and singers from Blue Fringe, Moshav and Soulfarm. For kids, my Rockin’ Chanukah CD, Kol Bamidbar and Soap Soup should do the trick. On my website you can buy 3 and get 1 free. Shameless plugs!

JE Magazine: Any final words for our readers?

SG: First of all, many thanks to JE Mag and to you for getting the word out about new Jewish music. For your readers: Love your Judaism!  Celebrate Shabbat!  Have an attitude of gratitude. Don’t steal music. Buying downloaded songs is cool but keep in mind that many artists like me intend to have their art taken in as a whole…you wouldn’t only buy 1/10th of a painting!  Try the whole album…it’s how I meant for you to hear my stuff.  I love getting feedback.  Write to me at sam@samglaser.com and say hello!

 

Tags: , , , , ,
Posted in Uncategorized | No Comments »

Better Run Away

February 28th, 2011
by Sam Glaser  

max partyMany a morning I bask in the sunlight on our front porch surrounded by fragrant jasmine, birds of paradise and bougainvillea. It’s my power spot for the Shachrit prayers.  I’m bound up in my tefillin, enveloped in my tallit and connected to the Source of all creation. This sunny spot conceals me just enough from the few passersby on our quiet street but some know to look for me and wave as I shuckle back and forth.  Our new neighbors have two adorable kids, the oldest a loquacious, blonde three-year-old with a favorite game. While I daven I can’t help but notice him try, often successfully, to run away from the house and down the street as his nanny panics and bolts after him.  Every time he gets a little farther and she freaks out a bit more.

We did the same thing with our dad.  We’d stand in front of his comfy leather easy chair and he’d trap us between his knees saying, “run away!”   We’d wait for the trap to open and before we could charge out of his grasp he’d grab us with his enormous hands and whisk us right back where we started.  Every third or fourth time we’d actually escape, sometimes with too much velocity and crash to the floor.  We’d pick ourselves up, stop laughing and try it again.

Of course I performed the same shenanigans with my own precious offspring and when they grew bigger, made an art form out of chasing them around the house.  Any Soap Soup fans know well our game of Better Run Away (Before I Grab You) as codified in the song by the same name.  The kids know that when I catch them I freeze and count, “five, four, three, two, RUN,” giving them time to escape.  As they grew older and could outrun me I devised a corollary to the game called Anger Bottle.  I drink most of the water out of a 12 oz. plastic bottle and then huck it at them with all my

sam bday cakemight.  It has to have just enough water to serve as ballast for a good throw but be empty enough that it scares the pants off them when it strikes the wall just behind where their heads were moments before.  I scream insults at them in my best Pirate tongue and we run until we’re too sweaty or until someone gets hurt. Many neighborhood friends come over specifically to have me terrorize them with my handy Arrowhead.

I’m writing this month’s essay about the evolution of this chase because I feel like the rules are shifting once again.  Now my kids are running away from home.  As far from their parents as they can get.  They aren’t quite cutting the cord completely.  But the stage is set for their inevitable escape.  I left home at seventeen.   I was fiercely independent and confident, with a love for the world, people and adventure and blithely left my three brothers and dear parents to deal with the impact of my disappearance from the family dynamic.  I was busy with Berklee College of Music, new friends and summer piano jobs in Montana and Greece.  I never stopped loving and appreciating my family, but I did so with occasional calls and postcards from the road.  My son Max is sixteen. The writing is on the wall.

I remember when it was clear to Shira and me that God did not plan on giving us any more children.  I had to make an appointment with my rabbi to share my distressed feelings of leaving the reproductive years behind.  I never stopped loving babies and still grab them any time there’s a willing parent.   My wife made it clear that the store was closed and I felt like I was just getting started!  I have a hunch that this melancholy will not hold a candle to the advent of empty nest.  I love the metaphor of the archer…as parents we pull the bow back with all our might and aim it to the best of our ability. Then we launch our beloved offspring on a lofty trajectory and PRAY for a good landing.  That sounds nice in theory…but right now I’m desperately holding on to every hike, every trip to the mall, every conversation at Coffee Bean.

My next CD is called Father’s Day.  It’s about being a dad, loving my own dad, the passage of time and the bitter sweetness of our lives.  Yes, I’m trying to get it out on the market before Father’s Day.  I have a line in one of the songs that sums up this new chapter: “I could hold your hand in front of all your friends, then I became an idiot.”  Max is hiding more.  Creating his own sense of self away from the shadow we cast.  Welcoming anywhere from

max mariachi10-25 friends over every Shabbat afternoon and hinting not to subtly that I find my own friends to play with.  He looks so damn handsome and has such a winning smile.  But that smile is more often reserved for his peers and if I want a conversation I have to bribe him with an occasional fancy meal or force him on an outing.  Even then I don’t have his full attention; I’m trying to teach him that it’s not OK to text while in a conversation with a live human.  He tries to comply until an “important” message comes through.

Jesse, my fourteen year old, is affectionate and demonstrative.  He’s as easy going as Max is willful.  He insists that he is going to be a rich doctor and build us a guesthouse for our retirement on his expansive property.   This too will change.  In fact, on our way to a recent family friend’s bar mitzvah, Jesse warned my wife and me that we were not allowed to dance.  Max chimed in, “don’t even talk.”  Thankfully Sarah was willing to party with us while her brothers cowered in shame.

I’m grateful that my kids still beg for bedtime stories.  I make them up every night from scratch; fully realized adventures, mysteries, business sagas and tales of spiritual rendezvous.  They each give me two random nouns that I must somehow incorporate into the story line.  I accept this challenge in order to keep their curiosity piqued throughout the fifteen minutes of drama. I owe them a dollar if I forget their word and I rarely mess up.  This past year Max stopped asking for stories and no longer will volunteer words.  A few nights ago I caught him underneath his covers with his headphones on during an especially intricate tale.  Like I said, the times they are a-changing.

By now you are probably wondering why I am taking you down this lonely road.  Of course, there’s a lesson in this and it’s acutely applicable at this time of the year.  You see, my friends, we are now entering Adar sheni, the final month in the Jewish calendar. This is the season when we heighten our joy and celebrate Jewish Mardi Gras, otherwise known as Purim.   We then launch into the first of the biblically numbered months, Nissan, during which we experience the week of Passover.  The Jewish year begins with the commemoration of the Exodus, reliving the plagues, splitting of the sea and revelation at Sinai.  Pesach is the holiday of homecoming and rebirth and logically occurs in the springtime.  We return to our infancy as a nation when we witnessed nine months of plagues and then were carried like a baby through the dangers of the desert, depending on God’s constant beneficence for our survival.

On the other hand, the megilah or scroll of Esther that we read on Purim is the only book in the canon that does not mention the name of God.  And yet God is surreptitiously operating behind the scenes in the formation and then foiling of Haman’s genocidal plot.  The word Purim refers to the game of chance that the villain in the saga employs to determine the date of our extinction.  This eternal tale leaves the reader with the option of perceiving either chance or the hand of God at each turn of events.  So too can we learn to see God’s presence in our own lives, both at times of turmoil and triumph.  In other words, when we reach spiritual maturity, when seemingly random events occur we might remark, “large world, well managed,” rather than, “it’s a small world.”

The Jewish year begins with revelation and ends with concealment.  Moses is God’s agent in bringing the Shechina down to earth and Esther’s name has the word “to hide” at its root.  Jewish history takes us on a journey from vulnerability in the desert to the formation of a people capable of agriculture, Talmudic discourse, defense and technology.  We spent an extra thirty-nine years in the desert because we didn’t want to leave the womb.  Our lives progress from dependence on our parents (and our Parent in heaven) to independence and as Stephen Covey would insist, ideally to interdependence where we grasp our role in the greater society.

In 1990 my father’s company went bankrupt.  This was a serious rupture in our family’s security and this forty-year enterprise was my dad’s raison d’être.   It’s highly likely that his four boys would have gone into the business. Instead, I became a full time musician and fell in love with my Judaism, eventually marrying the two in this unusual career of mine.  Two of my brothers became popular rabbis and the other brother is now a well-respected lawyer.  We don’t have the silver spoon in our mouths anymore and I think that’s a good thing.  We’ve had to fight for every last nickel and we’ve learned the value of hard work and perseverance.

In the desert we enjoyed manna from heaven and in Israel we had to perform backbreaking labor to cultivate our crops.  Adam was commanded to work and guard the Garden of Eden, not recline in a lounge chair drinking mai-tais.  To have any sense of pride and accomplishment, my children must strike it out on their own and wean themselves from the open tap of our generosity.  I fully understand the importance and inevitability of this process but I don’t have to like it.

The consolation for parents of teens is that yes, they will move out of our homes but not our lives, and that God willing, grandchildren will follow! Now when I look around my Shabbas table I am poignantly aware that in the ensuing years there will be empty places.  This sensation of always being in high demand as they compete for my attention will wane.  OK…I’m getting depressed again! I wish I had a freeze frame or at least a slow motion button on the video of my life.   Life is so good.

I’d like to offer my loyal readers the blessing that “those that

Glasers Hawaii sow in tears will reap with joy.”  Treasure your challenges and strive to see God’s loving hand in every facet of your life.  Take your spouse out on a regular date night so that when the house empties out you remember what one another looks like.  And in the immortal words of the psalmist, James Taylor, “Shower the people you love with love, show them the way that you feel, things are going to work out fine if you only will.”

 

Tags: , , , , , , , ,
Posted in Uncategorized | No Comments »

« Older Entries