MY URBAN KVETCH

Hope, Grief & Apologies: One Video & Six Readings for the Season (including Yom Kippur)

The High Holidays provide an annual chance for us to examine and correct our behavior as we enter a new year. And for writers, they provide an annual chance to write about every aspect of the holiday. Since I haven't written in this space for a while, I wanted to share some of the pieces I've written about this season: some of them have borne the test of time better than others, but I find it interesting to revisit them and maybe you will too.

But first, my entry in IKAR's annual writing/reflection challenge - this year, we were charged to think about hope:

As an adult seeking hope, I think about many things. What I can do easily. What's realistic. What's a challenge, but still attainable. What is beyond my reach. I've never been one of those "if you put your mind to it, you can do anything" people, because I cannot win a Nobel for science, compete on American Ninja Warrior, wear white without spilling on myself, fly without fear.  And then there are the wild cards that muck about with what’s possible. Fate. God. Destiny. Illness. Murphy’s Law. The Universal Random. Other humans.

Some people suffer and give up, while others cling to the smallest hope. When I suffer, hope usually hides behind a piece of emotional baggage while I track down and recite my mantras: that things will get better, that help is out there. I find some comfort in the Evening Prayer’s natural imagery, of night rolling into day and day into night, darkness to light and light to darkness, that there is a cycle that we can rely on, for better or for worse. This concept is important because we all face the danger of believing that a moment is forever: being in tune with gravity grounds us in a harsh, or sometimes helpful, reality.

I try to put hopeful things out there in the world. Last year, I wrote a piece for the Jewish Journal about empty apologies, noting that, "When words are hollow, they nevertheless contain a space of potential at their center." To this year's me, that sounds impossibly optimistic, but still rings molecularly, idealistically true. 

I have three nieces and two nephews. Every once in a while, their eyes fix on me with a look of awe, marvel, appreciation. And when they see it, so do I.

In cultivating hope this year, I think two things may help. The first is to always see ourselves as those who love us see us. And the second is to cultivate a spiritual, and physical practice of hope and kindness. If we can use words to create the muscle memory for behavioral change, then perhaps we can use hope to create the muscle memory for optimism, whatever form that optimism takes: prayer, a hand extended, a heart opened, or letters that become words that can - if we are are lucky - reach the people who need them most.

This year, I also did a video about Rosh Hashanah resolutions.

 Other readings (two of which feature the phrase "in the age"):

• Apologies in the Age of #SorryNotSorry
• Coping with Loss in the Internet Age
• Casting Call: A Tashlich Meditation
• Things Not to Say to Mourners (and some things you can do instead)  
• Courting Forgiveness: An Al-Chet for Singles

May you have a meaningful fast and may this year be full of many blessings, including health, love, happiness and abundant hope.

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Kaddish Revisited (Reflections for 9th of Av, 2015)

What Do You Regret?: A High Holidays Reflection

Year in Review & Looking Forward

On January 2, 2013, Ha'aretz published a piece I'd written about how the community can support those who grieve (if there is a paywall on this link or any of the ones below, please contact me and I'll send you a PDF). It might have seemed a strange way to begin a year, a year whose start is supposed to inspire optimism; but I saw it as an opportunity to reconnect, post-New Year's revelry, to those in the community who need our support, but who may not know how to ask for it. The piece was received very well - I still get people asking for copies of it - and seemed to answer many questions held by the "grief-adjacent" - people who were not primarily affected by a particular loss but who wanted to help friends or family members who were. But this post also set the stage for other Ha'aretz pieces, reaching a wide audience of people on a number of subjects about how the Jewish community could improve the services it was offering.

In a piece about what is expected of Jewish leadership in the digital age, I suggested that today's Jewish leaders learn to mobilize the power of online media, both in terms of distributing their message and in terms of responding to constituents' questions and challenges. After attending a series of conferences, Jewish and non-, traditional and innovative, I shared some ideas about how conferences can become more "disruptive," improving their format toward making a greater impact. After the Jewishly themed media went crazy about the results of the Pew Internet Study, my largely tongue-in-cheek piece about how to craft your own response to the Pew Report was widely circulated.

The year ended with a story I never wanted to write about - but after thousands sent emotional support to Phyllis and Michael Sommer during the tragically-terminal illness of their son Sam, I was desperate to show my support - this story of a community reaching out in comfort was a piece I could produce, a something I could do when there was really nothing to do.

After the piece was published, I got quite a few comments and letters - someone asked me if I had obtained permisison from the family before writing about them - a good question that I had been thinking about but ultimately decided not to bother them with. There's a perception that the Sommer family is now public domain, but the realm of their grief is private, and I didn't want to intrude. I hoped that pieces like mine would be perceived as a virtual version of the embrace I wished I could render in person. When I posted the piece on Facebook, Phyllis left a "heart," so I have to believe she understood and approved.

Social media was a big part of this story, with blogging at the core of the connection between the Sommer family and the rest of the world. I knew what blogging could do, how it could bring people together and create relationships from words typed and published in the ether of the internet. I knew it because it had been happening to me every day over the last decade; as I shared my thoughts and observations, I was unconsciously laying the groundwork for an international network of connected individuals, reaching more people than I had possibly hoped to and receiving comments, feedback, criticisms and praise from all over the world. 

On February 2, 2014, I will celebrate the tenth anniversary of my stumbling into blogging. While I look forward to the new opportunities that are already beginning to bubble up with promise for 2014, I also plan to look back at what blogging has brought me, both personally and professionally, over the last decade.  

Here's to a new year with more happy stories than sad ones, and to connecting with our friends, colleagues and wider networks, creating a larger community of stories and individuals who provide support for each other, whether virtually or in person. And thank you all for reading.

Imitation is the Sincerest Form of...

While perusing some comedy clips on the internet, I came across the first clip below - it was labeled "SNL - Phobia Party," but clearly was not from Saturday Night Live, as it starred various folks who were never on SNL but who are recognizable from other places (Mary Lynn Rajskub, Kaitlin Olson, others). A little research reveals it was the short-lived Kelsey Grammer Sketch Show, which was only around in 2005.

But in watching it, I got a sense of specific deja vu - not only had I heard of this kind of sketch before, but the details were exactly the same as in another sketch I'd seen in Hebrew, by the sketch group Ktzarim (clip has English subtitles). In the Hebrew clip, the phobias folks were in therapy instead of at a party, but the fears themselves were all the same.

Which came first? Well, after some interwebs research, I discovered the answer: neither. The first version was a British version of the group therapy sketch from The UK Sketch Show (2001). It is a great concept and takes great timing to pull it off - even though they were all in different countries, I still can't believe that three different televised sketch shows used the same sketch. Has this ever happened before? (And will it keep happening again on the amateur level? Check out this clip from Grace Church.)

All three sketches are below (in what I believe is the correct chronological order) - which sketch group did it best?

The UK Sketch Show

 

The Israeli Version - "Ktzarim"

 

The Kelsey Grammer Sketch Show

Being Jewish at Christmas (reposted from JewishBoston.com)

Being Jewish on Christmas
by Esther D. Kustanowitz

(published December 2011 at JewishBoston.com, as part of their Brief Guide To Christmas For The Perplexed)

The revelry, the songbook, the lights, the presents, lying to children about where presents come from…it’s the most wonderful time of the year. Some people love it, and Jews living in multifaith families feel the compulsion to include both Chanukah and Christmas. But many American Jews feel assaulted by the tropes, tones and expectations of Christmas. So here are a few ideas – strategies, suggestions and evasion techniques – that you can implement when it’s beginning to look a lot like, well, you know.

Allow the indignation to run through you. Isn’t there separation of church and state in the US? Then why do I have to listen to Christmas at the mall? Why is the Target lady so annoying and why do we have to be so materialistic anyway? What’s up with the emotional manipulation on TV and in movies? I have a good mind to go political on Christmas, penning articles about the “December Dilemma,” bemoaning the lack of Hanukkah songs! Bah, humbug.

Reclaim the holiday in the name of Jews. The May family, founders of Macy’s, creators of the iconic parade and setting for “Miracle on 34th Street”: Jews. Irving Berlin: Jew. Jesus: Jew. Try a strong defense with “Don’t you just love ‘White Christmas’? Irving Berlin was Jewish, you know…” “You know, Jesus was Jewish, too, and you wouldn’t even have Christmas without him…” (On second thought, maybe stick to Macy’s and Irving Berlin.) This strategy is best used in major cities with low incidences of anti-Jewish sentiment and graffiti.

Adopt a convert. Jews-by-choice, especially those without Jewish families of their own, often feel alone on Christmas, a holiday which – even if of little religious significance to them – often comes along with a Samsonite size set of emotional baggage, sentimentality and regret over leaving behind one’s born family for one’s spiritual people. Bring a convert into your home, or invite them to dinner or a party, or fry them a latke or twelve – it’s a “bring-them-into-the-manger-mitzvah” that even Mother Mary would have endorsed.

Write a “home-for-Hanukkah” movie. With all due respect to “Four Christmases,” there’s no reason that family agita can’t happen around a stack of potato latkes rather than a Christmas ham. And think of the comedy potential of a Hanukkah dinner scene devolving into a soofganiyah (traditional Hanukkah donut, filled with viscous red jelly) massacre. But don’t just write a script – ask your friends to perform and critique the darned thing - discussion points can include some of the following questions: Is “The Hebrew Hammer” good for the Jews? Where do stereotypes come from? Could Barbra Streisand movies reverse the trend of assimilation? Tawk amongst yourselves. And don’t get upset if your screenplay is deemed “too New York” (Hollywood code for “too Jewy”). You’ll have made your point.

Limmud on One Leg: Vayigash

Writing to you from Warwick, UK, where I'm attending a full Limmud conference. (As opposed to last year, when forces of nature tried to prevent me and only succeeded in delaying me. For a reminder of that fine time, check out "Snowpocalyptic Airport Sleepover," "Sleeping at JFK: Hot Tips for a Quick Nap," and of course, the crowd-pleasing "20 Things to Do at JFK Airport During a Snowpocalypse.")

Limmud regularly asks individual presenters to write interpretive pieces on the Torah portion for a weekly email called "Limmud on One Leg" - this is mine, on Vayigash (written for Limmud on One Leg, week of December 25, 2011.)

Saying kaddish for my mother this year, I spend a lot of time in shul, spending Shacharit (or Mincha or Maariv) thinking about the words, the editors’ translations, and the choreography that accompanies certain pieces of text. Recently, I was contemplating the beginning of the Amidah, the prayer in which we approach God in meditative encounter. Taking three steps back, we pray “God, open my lips”; three steps forward, and we complete the thought, “and may my mouth tell your praises.” We need this preface because we approach our Creator with a twofold fear: 1) That we will be speechless, and 2) That if we do indeed succeed in opening our mouths, the words we unleash may be not be words of praise. Then thanks to Limmud, I found myself contemplating Vayigash and the idea of “approach.”

In this Torah portion, Jacob’s son Judah approaches the viceroy – an unrecognizable Joseph – to beg for Benjamin’s freedom. As Judah approaches, he petitions Joseph-in-disguise through a paragraphs-long retelling of the history of the brothers’ arrival in Egypt. His mouth opens, and what comes out is verbal choreography: preparatory steps back that integrate the viceroy into the larger story as Judah sticks to his liturgy: “this is who we are, this is where we came from, this is what we need.” Approaching the man in power, and using deferential language, Judah indicates his intention to enter into relationship with the viceroy and his willingness to assume responsibility for his brothers, whatever the consequences.

The act of approach is both art and intimacy. It takes confidence and strength, sensitivity and humility. Proximity - a literal step closer to a thing, an experience or a person - is the first step toward face-to-face encounter, and the closer you are, the harder it is to hide your identity or conceal your intentions. By stepping forward into a new experience, or coming face-to-face with a challenging person or piece of learning, we enter into a relationship that is scary but intimate, honest, exciting and holy. Judah’s monologue is rewarded with revelation and embrace. But after our Amidah, we must retreat from that intimate moment, without the powerful relief of a forgiving embrace from a long-lost relative. Instead, we have another set of back-and-forth steps, accompanied by a prayer for peace over all of Israel.

Perhaps the message here is that, although we are reluctant to disengage from the intimacy, the approach itself enables us to connect more honestly with everyone. As we tell our stories and engage with texts and people, let us always approach with the sense that this work, approached with humility and candor, can transform us all.

9/11 - Retrospective

On September 13, 2001, I wrote an email (full text linked) to some friends and family, with some first reactions to what had happened to America two days before. This email was from an account that expired about five years ago, and I had lost access to all the things I'd sent years before.

Those words should have been gone forever. But thanks to Facebook, I put out an APB on my lost words, and a friend - who had been on the initial distribution list 10 years ago - searched his mail, found my words, and returned them to me. This proved to be a gift to me - a chance to revisit my state of mind and mourning so many years ago, and to see what has and hasn't changed since that day.

But this isn't my real 9/11 post. My real 9/11 post is somewhere in the air between my brain and the keyboard, and aspires to arrive before the 10th anniversary, over the next few days. This is both prelude to that post and retrospective of posts past, a visit from and with my old words, with their different levels of shock, trauma, distance and contemplation. I share these words, from that previously-lost email, from this blog and from articles I've written - and dated 2001, 2003, 2007, 2008, and 2009 respectively - below.

"The real 9/11 post" - that's tomorrow's job.

Casting Call: A Tashlich Meditation

For those of you who didn't see it "last year" (before Rosh Hashanah), I'm pleased to present my latest piece - for this week's Jewish Journal, about the ritual of Tashlich...

Casting Call: A Tashlich Meditation (The Jewish Journal, September 8, 2010)

My shoes slip off, my feet sink into soft sand and then approach the sea, where they submerge and are washed. But even freshly emerged from water, they remind me that just because you’ve washed something doesn’t mean it’s truly clean.

Rosh Hashanah marks the world’s birth — a new year, a new circle of Jewish holidays about to begin. The 10 days of repentance, which create the structure for apologies to self, neighbor and to God. Tashlich, the ritual in which bread is cast as sin and then cast out of us and into the water, is part of the preparation for Yom Kippur. It is Tashlich, this opportunity to make physical the act of rejecting iniquity, that draws me to the edge of the Pacific Ocean, steps away from the frivolity and fun of the Santa Monica Pier.

To read the rest of the article, click here.

Wishing all my friends and readers a wonderful new Jewish year.

May the 4th Be With You

Happy Star Wars Day, 2010! 

What's Darth Vader up to these days? Recording voiceovers for the TomTom GPS system, apparently. 

Want more Star Wars goodness? See my reflections and video recommendations at Beliefnet's Idol Chatter, and don't forget my classics from the "May the Force Be With Us" category here at My Urban Kvetch.

May the Force be with you!

Conan, Andy and Max Weinberg Sing to Orrin Hatch

Rumor has it that this bit was pitched after one of the writers saw Hatch's video on a Jewish blog. If I manage to dig up details on that, I'll share it here first - but in the interim, watch the clip below and read my post on Beliefnet's Idol Chatter.

What Would Don Draper Tweet? (LAist)

[image from TheVox]

My new post at LAist, "What Would Don Draper Tweet?" shares words from Hank Wasiak, ad man extraordinaire who started in advertising during the 60s and who is now fully embracing social media's potential to enhance the effectiveness of campaigns in his industry  He's even incorporating social media into the class he's teaching next semester at USC's Marshall School of Business. 

If “Mad Men” has taught us anything, it’s that advertising is all about the client and the product. But a “Mad Man” for the technology age urges ad firms to put the Don Draper era behind them and consider the consumer in a new manner: through the lens and the interactive venue of today’s social media tools. 

By his own admission last week at the 140 Characters Conference (held at the Kodak Theater in Hollywood), Hank Wasiak has lived the “Mad Men” experience. He explained to the crowd of Twitter enthusiasts (this writer among them) that he had started at an advertising firm that he described as “the mirror image” of the fictional Sterling Cooper, an image that included similar clients, attitudes toward sex and drinking, and where they were “smoking something a lot stronger than Lucky Strikes.” It was a time, he says, when “the guys in suits showed us what we wanted to be and what we wanted to buy.” Until now, the essentials of advertising hadn’t changed. But after having witnessed everything in the business for the last five decades, he realized that “social media created the watershed moment.”

To read the rest of the post, click here.

Other posts at LAist:

Move Over, Rocky Horror: The Girl Scouts Are Coming

Oh Crap, My Parents Joined Facebook