Window Seat Wonders or God as Design Star

I have always loved nature. I find everything about it miraculous, mysterious, holy, and beautiful. Animals, rocks, leaves, snowflakes, flowers, mountains, the ocean --- all hold my eye and my mind captive! I could watch a tiny ant struggle to carry a crumb twice its size indefinitely, pick up little pebbles in a stream for hours, and watch clouds drift by until dark. I marvel at the craftsmanship of a bird's nest and the perfect hexagons of honeycombs. How do deciduous trees know that the time has come for their sap to retreat into their roots, and why is the death of their leaves so exquisitely beautiful? How can it be possible for every single snowflake to be different? My family will often get annoyed with me during walks or on a drive because I stop to look at the most insignificant objects (at least to them) and make frequent remarks about the scenery. "Oh, look at the cows on that hill." "Isn't this little pine cone so cute?" "Oh, wait, I want to take a picture of this pretty leaf." "Wouldn't Aunt Jackie have loved to see all those wildflowers?"

Last weekend my family and I attended our third family wedding of the summer --- this one in Rock Hill, South Carolina. Our return flight from Charlotte to Chicago departed right on time at 8:15 p.m., just as the sun was beginning to set. All three of us were together in row 22 on the left side of the plane, but I was the fortunate one to be sitting in the window seat. Because we were traveling northward, the view of the sunset stayed with us until we neared Chicago. Now I LOVE the window seat. Most folks request the aisle, but I enjoy looking out the window and watching the tapestry below unroll before me.

When it was safe to use approved portable electronic devices, our plane had risen above a thick white blanket of clouds; and the sunset in all its brilliant colors was in full view. There were also huge pillars of darker clouds --- most likely the "weather" that the pilot mentioned we would be going around. After my gasp of pure amazement, a few exclamations of "Oh, my goodness!" "Look, y'all!" and "Oh, cool!" I had the wherewithal to reach for my phone. This sight was too amazing, and I desperately wanted to record it so that I could see it again. I would take a few pictures, making sure to aim at an angle to avoid the glare off the window.
Just when I thought I would go ahead and put away the phone, the sky would morph into even more fantastic shapes and colors. Lightning flashed and danced within the huge bastion of clouds, while the sunset continued its show. The moon was even shining.

The display was like nothing I'd ever beheld. I found myself almost in tears at the wonder of it, and words of prayer and psalms flowed in and out of my consciousness. "Ha-shamayim m'saprim k'vod El, uma'aseh yadav magid ha-raki'a." The heavens declare God's glory, and the sky tells of God's works. " "Adonai, Adoneinu, ma adir shimcha b'chol ha-aretz, asher t'nah hod'cha al ha-shamayim." O God, our Lord, how majestic is Your name in all the earth, You who have covered the heavens with Your splendor!" "Modah ani l'fanecha..." I am thankful before You, O God."
I wanted to declare to my fellow passengers, "Is God awesome, or what??!!" No human being, though created with God's breath of life and possessing a tiny spark of the divine intellect, could ever create with such color, creativity and majesty. Certainly no random mix of cosmic dust, matter, atoms, or elements could, either. "When I consider Your heavens, the work of Your fingers, the moon and stars that You set in place, what are we that You are mindful of us, what are mortals that You have taken note of us, for You have made us little less than divine, and adorned us with glory and majesty...O God, our Lord, how majestic is Your name in all the earth!"

Learning to Blog and Blogging to Learn

After laboring for what seems like forever, I finally have http'ed and url'ed, uploaded and coded my way into the world of blogging. I devoted much time to creating a blog that will not only allow me to express myself through the written word, but will also allow me to create something that speaks for me visually as well. This is the tough part. I have a picture in my mind of what I would like, but I am still struggling with the technique for achieving it; for this is the area in which one requires at least a bit of understanding of techno-speak. The problem with seeking instruction in this area is that those folks who are writing the "easy steps" or "for dummies" directions in how to apply a template or change the background, etc. have difficulty writing the information in such a way that those of us who came to adulthood with only the knowledge of a typewriter and white-out can comprehend. Performing these steps comes so easy to them, that they cannot relate to those of us who need everything spelled out in "substeps." "Just click on 'link' and you're done!" doesn't work for me. Looking at all that code jargon is like looking at gobbledy-gook. At times my brain would just spin in circles, and the frustration of not understanding what to do almost made me give up.

This experience has led me to think more critically about my teaching of Hebrew and Torah / Haftarah chanting to b'nei mitzvah students and adults. I do always try to put myself in the student's chair and to teach with their vantage point and background in mind, but am I teaching at a level that is congruent with my students' abilities? To them, trope marks (and often Hebrew) can be as confusing and frustrating as those computer codes are to me. To be able to show my students how to see past the gobbledy-gook and give them the keys and "cheats" to the code that is Torah and Haftarah chanting, Hebrew, prayer, and Judaic knowledge is an honor and a joy for me. I want to make sure that I continue to make the journey to find the key rewarding, meaningful, logical and fun, and that the key will turn easily in the lock when we get there.

Walkin' in Memphis

When I wrote this reflection, I was in the land of the Delta Blues: Memphis, Tennessee – the setting for this year’s convention of the American Conference of Cantors. Memphis is the birthplace of Rock and Roll, home of the Blues and of Elvis; but as I learned during my brief sojourn here, it is also a model of community, generosity, and solidarity.


Our time in Memphis began with Rick Recht’s “Tear Down the Walls” concert, featuring the inspiring voices of cantors and gospel singers, and supported by a choir members from Memphis synagogues and churches. During the concert, area ministers, teens, and Rabbi Micah Greenstein of Temple Israel shared not only their visions of a Memphis free of poverty, hopelessness, and racial prejudice, but also passionately described how clergy of all faiths are laboring together with the community to bring this dream to fruition. Having been part of several interfaith musical events, I have always wondered just how much change is really put into motion by these moments of our coming together. In Memphis, it is clear that the clergy not only talk the talk, but walk the walk – hand in hand.



The next day of our convention was devoted to witnessing this holy work. We boarded buses first to the National Civil Rights Museum. As our bus pulled up along the side of the museum, I immediately realized that I was gazing upon that metal railing so familiar from photos and television images. We were disembarking at the Lorraine Motel, the site of Dr. King’s assassination, into which the museum has been incorporated. I felt as though I’d been punched in the stomach, and for a few moments I could neither breathe, nor speak.

We began with an address by Rabbi Micah Greenstein who sits on the board of the museum, leads tours, and serves as a fount of information about the history of the relationship shared by the Jewish and African American communities. Touring the museum we wove our way through a timeline of images from the early days of slave trade through decade after decade of struggle. The most heartrending part of the tour came at the end when we arrived at the actual rooms where Martin Luther King and his friend and colleague, Rev. Ralph David Abernathy, were staying that fateful day – Rooms 306 and 307. Just the night before, King had delivered his “I’ve been to the Mountaintop” speech, which he closed with these words: “...I would like to live a long life...But I'm not concerned about that now. I just want to do God's will. And He's allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I've looked over. And I've seen the promised land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land! And so I'm happy, tonight. I'm not worried about anything. I'm not fearing any man. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord!” The words were still sounding in my ears when I realized I had just heard them that morning from the Torah reading from Parashat Pinchas: “The Lord said to Moses, ‘Ascend these heights of Abarim and view the land that I have given to the Israelite people. When you have seen it, you, too, shall be gathered to your kin, just as your brother Aaron was.” Like Moses, Dr. King did not live to see the work forged by those passionate men and women who came after him, but how fortunate and blessed I feel to have been able to witness it first hand. For more information on the National Civil Rights Museum, go to http://www.civilrightsmuseum.org.