Category Archives: Judaism

Elk Run, Fourth Phase, Judaism

Hannah

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Hannah. A slender, tall African woman. Always friendly, helpful. Came into my apartment yesterday and began enthusing about my books. Bemoaning the books she’d left behind. Said she spent her paycheck on books. “I never thought I’d see someone that loved books as much as I do.”

When she told me she spoke French, I asked what country she was from. Nigeria. She came here for college, her father paying. He died just after she finished her second year. Put stop to college. Her marriage then was young. She stayed here. Fifteen years ago.

She looked at my books, pulling out favorites like Chaucer. “Oh, this one is funny. I think Shakespeare got some ideas from him.” A shame a woman of her intellect had to settle.

Then, “Oh, you have the Torah.”

“Well. I’m a Jew.”

She stopped for a second, “So am I.” Hannah keeps a kosher house and has raised her children as Jews. Her parents converted before she was born.

We were both amazed. Book lovers and Jews. That’s a strong connection. We agreed to do something around Hannukah.

In the odd way of senior care, later that evening she helped me get dressed for bed. Which involved me getting briefly naked. No problem: caregivers role.

Thus endeth Monday.

Elk Run, Friends, Judaism, Politics, US History, World History

Ginny and Janice. Rabbi Jamie.

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Yesterday. A flurry. Ginny and Janice came. Their usual work ethic. Opened about half the boxes in my living room. Books on shelves horizontally. I look forward to organizing them. Lot of action.

Rabbi Jamie came by. We talked about his Alaska trip. The final days of his sabbatical. The Top of the World highway. Rough enough it shattered his rear window. Hearing and seeing a Golden Eagle launch itself into the air. Visiting Wrangli-St. Elias National Park which some compare to Switzerland. Except the park is bigger than Switzerland!

Also talked about the why of my move to Elk Run. Safety. The shock of pneumonia, then rehab. How weak I remain.

Asked him about his talk I missed, Judaism After Gaza. His main point: American diaspora Judaism shaped its post-holocaust self through Zionism focused on a safe place for Jews. Israel. And expected it to be a liberal democracy.

It was. For awhile. Of late its right wing factions have turned it into a dominant military power willing to exert itself through hostile, brutal acts in Gaza, the West Bank, Lebanon, and Iran.

Its actions have divided American Jews. That division and how it plays out over the next few years is Judaism After Gaza. At least in the U.S. Not clear what it will be like.

Later, beef stir fry over rice. A quiet evening.

Dogs, Elk Run, Friends, Judaism

Polynesia?

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Yesterday we had the last cookout for the year. A Polynesian theme. If you call tikka bar themed decorations, paper leis, and fire dancers Polynesian. Not my thing. The former elementary teacher, Marsha, though leaned toward me and said, “We’ve got a lot of action today!” Different strokes.

Working my regular zoom calls into the breakfast schedule: 7:00 to 8:30. Makes things tight for an 8 am call. Probably going to a 9 am MT start time. Depends on others.

Ordered Starlink yesterday. Only 100 mpbs available in Evergreen. Should be adequate. Also ordered a new duvet. Thinking winter.

Braelynn did my laundry. Nashay helped me get dressed for bed. Both of them walked Shadow. Good people. The staff here.

Discovered that Michelle, head of health services, served as a nurse for Kate. She remembered Kate’s signature red glasses, her J-tube wound, and how lively she was. She also remembered me as Kate’s caregiver. Mountain world is a small town.

Ginny picked up Shadow for a playdate with Annie. A chance for her to run, play. At least once a week. Ginny and Janice also opened and cleared out six boxes, when they brought Shadow back. Coming this morning to help some more. My sisters from another mother.

Rabbi Jamie’s coming by this afternoon. First time I will have seen him since he got back from Alaska.

Great Wheel, Holidays, Judaism

A Spiritual Audit

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Sorry about that unedited first line yesterday. I reread my posts to check for errors. Apparently I didn’t for that one.

Nights have become cooler as the calendar turned over to September. What to look forward to in September:

Harvest Moon

Mabon. The fall equinox. (for us northern hemisphere types)

Michaelmas on the 29th. The springtime of the soul.

The main harvest. Drive across Nebraska and see the combine crews gathering in wheat.

The start of the NFL season.

Labor Day.

Night beginning to overtake the day.

My favorite time of year. Through Samain, the Winter Solstice, and New Year’s Day.

Elul. The Jewish lunar month that proceeds Rosh Hashana, the new year celebrating the creation of the world and humanity. In preparation for this new year (one of four) we engage in cheshbon nefesh, an accounting of the soul. As with most things Jewish, its aim is to live well in this life.

Here’s a summary from Gemini of what this entails:

1. Carve Out Dedicated Time

Cheshbon nefesh requires stepping away from the noise of daily life. It is often done in a quiet space where you can be alone with your thoughts. Some people do a brief version of this daily before sleep, but during Elul, it becomes a more profound, deliberate practice of reviewing the entire past year.

2. Review Your Actions and Relationships

Take an honest look at your behavior, habits, and interactions. You might ask yourself questions like:

  • How did I treat my family, friends, and strangers this year?

  • Did I act with integrity in my work and daily obligations?

  • Where did my patience fail?

  • Did I waste time or miss opportunities to help others?

3. Acknowledge Shortcomings Honestly

The goal is to confront your mistakes without falling into despair or toxic guilt. It is an objective “accounting” where you tally up the emotional and spiritual ledger. You recognize where you missed the mark (the Jewish concept of chet) so that you can correct the course.

4. Make Amends (Seek Forgiveness)

A critical component of this accounting is realizing who you have hurt. Jewish tradition teaches that God cannot forgive transgressions against other people until you have sought forgiveness from the people themselves. This means making the difficult phone calls, writing the letters, and offering genuine apologies to those you have wronged.

5. Commit to Change (Teshuvah)

Cheshbon nefesh is not just about feeling sorry; it is action-oriented. Once you have identified your spiritual debts, you make a concrete plan for how to handle things differently in the coming year. It is about actively returning to your best self and aligning your actions with your values.

Fourth Phase, Friends, Health, Judaism, Politics, Shadow Mountain, US History

UFC Freedom 250

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May winter. 35 degrees this am. Rain. A chilly, somewhat wet week ahead. A delight with cool nights. As if May knew what we’d missed and decided to make up for winter’s puny showing.

My good friend Tom’s visit is over today. Back to Minnesota. When he comes, we talk of matters both profound and humorous. Tom and I have been Woollies for the same amount of time, ritually welcomed together at Valhelga. Old friends.

He remarked yesterday on the strong bonds Kate and I formed with others at Congregation Beth Evergreen. Moving the fridge. Alan’s cinnamon rolls. Tara’s visits with Eleanor. Ginny and Janice including me in their family. Rich. Jamie. Part Judaism. Part the folks we got close to.

Thinking over my fall. Believe I might have briefly passed out from the hypotension. Probably triggered the fall. I’ve made modifications including sitting on the edge of the bed before I get up. Helps.

I’m at another hinge point. I need some p.t., some other help or I’m on a downward slope. The actinium trial is my last stand. If it doesn’t produce good results, I don’t imagine I’ll sign up for any more treatments. Too tired. Too weary of the fuss and bother. I suppose hospice would make sense then.

This trial is far from over. I’ve had one treatment out of eight. No telling results till number 4 or so. It may yet yield lowering of my PSA and my tumor burden. We’ll see.

This is, for me at least, not bad news. I accept where I am, what the situation is. No life goes on forever.

An NYT journalist went to four Chinese cities during the recent Trump visit and asked residents what they thought of Dopy Don. “Brutal” and “Unfriendly” lead their answers. I read this article, then turned on my TV to a Paramount ad for a major UFC event. Clips featured MMA fighters kicking each other in the head, punching and grappling. UFC Freedom 250. Location? The Whitehouse! June 14th.

Brutal. Unfriendly. Not to mention embarrassing.

Family, Fourth Phase, Friends, Judaism, Shadow Mountain

Enough

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Spring and the Trial Moon

Monday gratefuls: The Ancient Brothers. Safety. May. Spring. The beauty of the Lodgepoles. The Aspens leafing out. BJ and Pammy.

Rene Good and Alex Pretti. Say their names,

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Mac and cheese

 

Kavannah:  Zerizut.  Zest and Zeal. Enthusiasm. Risking a gray, homebound life. Need a push. Good for another week. Still at risk.

Tarot: paused

One brief shining: I pull out mac and cheese. Plate it and warm it. Perhaps a frittata instead. No? A drumstick, blueberries and strawberries. Maybe. Having a refrigerator stocked with ready to eat food. Melissa, my visiting angel.

 

Visiting Angels. A palliative care nurse. A social worker. Melissa. Maddie. Used to be Rachel. My home team. They care about me and I appreciate it.

My friends at CBE. Visiting me. Giving me rides. Ruth coming up to cook for me. Tom and Paul’s visits. I’m a lucky guy. Family coming. Mary. Mark. Joe and Seoah. Ginny and Janice, chosen family.

Alone, but not lonely.

It may be, probably is, that these relationships are my purpose now. Staying in touch. Visits. Zoom calls. Enlivening and being enlivened. Seeing and being seen.

Perhaps this has always been true. I-Thou over the I-Its of career, striving.

Yes. If I-Thou extends to the wild realms, to dogs and cats, to the wonder of the light-eaters, then I say yes. More than skill. More than income. More than knowledge. More than status or power.

The simple, everyday magic of loving and being loved. A hug. A gift of a smile, a kind glance. The warmth of another’s hand. Bedrock for all of life.

 

 

Mussar

Study

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Spring and the Moon of Liberation

Monday gratefuls: Accepting our own power. Prostate cancer, my teacher. Purple iris for Kate. Stargazer lilies and gladiolus.

Rene Good. Alex Pretti. Say their names.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Talmud Torah

Tarot: paused

One brief shining: Holding my Tanakh, I study. This week: Leviticus 12:1–15:33. Walking with Shadow, I study grasses, moss, and spring ephemerals. Driving to an appointment, I pass the Hogback divide, learning of its most ancient origins—older than the Rockies. I cannot move without study. Without learning.

Tomorrow Mussar MVP comes to my house. Tara, Rich, and Marilyn will handle food and setup. They offered to come to me. Going out with head drop—onerous. Their kindness makes me happy. On Zoom: no hugs, hearing difficult, distance realized. In person: hugs. Easier hearing. Distance closed.

Mussar, according to Rabbi Yalanter (19 c), is “hot” study; Torah study is “cool.” It reminds me of Marshall McLuhan: TV as hot media, print as cool. In Mussar I open my lev, discovering how the middah of patience lives within me. Do I veer into impatience? Or drift toward indolence and apathy?

Around the table we will go, telling stories on ourselves—sometimes affirming, sometimes confessing what needs attention.

For example: standing in a grocery check-out line. After unloading her two carts, the woman ahead of me remembers the lower rack. Do I sigh? Scowl? Or reach down and help retrieve the remaining items?

Rabbi Jamie might say: we change our behavior in small increments. Advance your practice of patience by recognizing annoyance, yet choosing not to display it. That is enough. One moment, one incident, a response that feels better. Repeat.

Various lists of middot circulate online. Here are two: Jewish Camp and the Forty-Eight Mussar Middot. On neither list does Talmud Torah appear.

It fits, though, for one excellent reason: without study, there is no Mussar.

Yeshivot—men and boys davening as they argue. The angel at the Jabbok Ford. Is it God? Is it not? Isaac? Not Isaac. Who, then? I believe the angel is an angel—a messenger. Also a direct representative of God.

That is the cool, analytical version of Talmud Torah.

Mussar begins at the gateway to the soul: anavah, humility. Do I speak too often, steering the conversation toward my own (wonderful) insights? Do I remain silent, convinced my ideas fall short? Or do I listen carefully, speak concisely, and choose my moment with care?

In Judaism without Tribalism, Rabbi Rami Shapiro suggests Jews have two missions: tikkun and teshuvah. For my final paper, I added a third—Talmud Torah. It undergirds the other two.

Tikkun, the work of justice, requires careful attention to the realities of our world. It demands that we not look away. This is analogous to the cool study of Torah.

Teshuvah, on the other hand, requires hot study. What in my recent life calls me to return to the homeland of my soul? Where have I missed the mark?

Both require study.

I sit.

Reading.

Garden, Great Wheel, Greenhouse, Holidays, Judaism, Paganism, Plants

Muscular

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Spring and the Moon of Liberation

Sunday gratefuls: Exercise. Artemis. Planting today. Tomatoes. Carrots. Beets. Check garlic. Fantasy. Writing. AI. Medical Alert.

Rene Good. Alex Pretti. Say their names.

Sparks of Joy and Awe: Parsha

Kavannah: Areyvut. Mutual responsibility.  All humans are accountable one to another.

 

Tarot: Queen of Stones, Bear. Strength rooted in Mother Earth. I know mortality in decay, in cancer, in Kate. I choose to live because of these, not in spite of them.

 

One brief shining: Artemis has been through her first winter–what passed for winter this year. Her Japanese lanterns glow at night. Ten bulbs of garlic have wintered in her west-facing raised bed. I will plant carrots and beets in that bed today, check the garlic. Prep the tomato bed, plant the seeds. Flowers of memory in the east-facing bed: gladiolus and stargazer lilies for Jon, purple iris for Kate.

 

Nowruz. The Persian New Year. Passover, the annual reliving of liberation from oppression. Easter, the annual celebration of life’s ongoingness. Spring.

If our Shadow Mountain April has no snow, it will be our cruelest month. Letting us slide into summer with little moisture for lodgepoles and aspens, grasses, dogwood, willows.

Spring holidays acknowledge our deepest fears. Easter. Is death the enemy? Passover. Are we enslaved in our narrow places, with no hope of liberation?

Nowruz. Will the growing season begin well?

Artemis. My nod to Nowruz. Planting in expectation of blood-red beet salads, carrots cooked in butter and brown sugar.

Gardening. A ritual of confidence. A collaboration. Hands, seeds, soil, and sun. I love taking the prickly beet seeds in my palm, pinching one between thumb and finger. Planting it, pressing the soil down around it. Tucking it in. Spring.

Fourth phase. In May of 2015 prostate cancer showed up, death knocking, no longer an abstraction but presence. A shock, yes. Yet not a shock either. Mortality begins at birth.

Health? My body equilibrated, functioning well. What health isn’t: a permanent state. Even for those seeking life extension.

I remember sunrise services, a melding of Christian yearning to defeat death and pagan confidence in the sun. Transform the fallow season into the growing season. Once again. Life after death.

Tara invited me again to her Passover.

A full Haggadah with afikomen hidden, questions about plagues, conversation about contemporary mitzrayim: in society, in ourselves. Mitzrayim. A narrow place of bondage. Egypt.

Ancient myth as contemporary history. Our story of liberation from slavery. Of the heroes and heroines who led us out of Egypt, across the Reed Sea, and into freedom.

What is the evanescence of health against these muscular affirmations: life lived through fallow seasons, life confronting and transforming death, oppression changed into freedom, into a tribe?

Sun.
Soil.
Seeds.
Spring.

Judaism, Torah

Final Assignment: Judaism Without Tribalism

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Imbolc and The Moon of Liberation

Rabbi Rami names teshuvah, finding again your true self, and tikkun, repairing injustice, as the core missions of Judaism. I want to add a third: talmud torah, educating ourselves and others.

Tikkun:  When ICE came, three thousand agents to Minneapolis, neighbors turned a noun into a verb: To neighbor. While neighboring, they blew whistles to warn of ICE agents on the street. They delivered food to immigrant families sheltering in place. All while standing as a gentle, angry people against the power of a corrupt regime.

A few hold a guttering lamp–like the protesters in Minnesota–as a light on the path for those who want justice.  Who want light. Who will stand up.

Tikkun. Not charity. Radical change.

Teshuvah:  Teshuvah is a return to the homeland of your soul.

Even after I cleared away the underbrush, a thick veil still obscured who I was. So. Who was I? How could I, how would I find myself?

The plane from India landed at midnight on December 15th, 1981. A blue and white clad-nun came out with a wicker basket. Inside were two tiny boys. I found a parent.

When writing my doctoral thesis, I found myself one-hundred and twenty pages into a novel instead:  Even the Gods Must Die. I found a writer.

The Mah Tovu taught me. The people I worshipped with made the synagogue a sacred place.  My friends. I found a Jew.

Teshuvah unveils the man in his godly image. Slowly.

Talmud Torah: A third leg to Rami’s mission for Judaism. Now we have a stool that can find balance on any surface.

What is Torah? What is not Torah might be a better question.

Yes, the books of Moses. Yes. The writings and the prophets and the Talmud and the Midrash and works on Kabbalah. Each Saturday morning at ten. Bagel table. Tanakh open to the week’s parsha.

The natural world is Torah. A hike along Maxwell Creek, skiing A-Basin, growing your own food, each cracks open the sacred text of Mother Earth.

You are Torah. Introspection–like the weekly parsha–teaches us what it is to be a self. Who this self of mine is. Who, really, is that white-haired, white-bearded old man in the mirror? Is he the kind grandfather? Is he the human companion of Shadow? A gardener?

We study Torah. On the streets of Minneapolis.

Talmud torah.
Teshuvah.
Tikkun.

 

 

Cancer, Health, Judaism

Content?

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Imbolc and the Moon of Tides

Shabbat gratefuls: Rabbi Jamie. Rabbi Rami. Teshuvah. Tikkun. Talmud Torah. Bagel table. The Mishkan. Shabbat. Colder.

Rene Good. Alex Pretti. Say their names.

Sparks of Joy and Awe:  Torah

 

Kavannah: Histapkot. Contentment.   Seek what you need, give up what you don’t need.

Tarot: Page of Stones, Lynx.  “Begin something new that supports your health.” Clinical trial for me.

One brief shining: Each night before I go to bed, I say three things. Hands over eyes, I first say the Shema. Then, hand on the mezuzah, “I am content with who I am. I’m content with what I have.” Last: “I love that little Shadow–all to pieces.”

 

When I say I’m content with who I am, I mean histapkot. This body, linked to all that becomes, has been, is, will be enough. The Shema says that plainly, yhvh is one.

The second part, “I’m content with all that I have.” has become a challenge. Money? Yes. Shadow Mountain Home? Yes. Shadow? Yes.

But. Am I content with cancer?

Cancer and contentment. What about those days I read unwelcome news? What about all the treatments, all the uncertainty?

I am content with having cancer. It can churn my stomach. Yes. It cannot be cured, so it’s a permanent resident. We are not two. We are one. When I eat, the cancer part of me eats. When I sleep, cancer rests with me. I am not content with cancer killing me. I do what I can to prevent that. Then again, I am not content with my heart killing me either. I do what I can to prevent that.

Railing against the cancer. Fighting it. Struggling with it. All those war-like metaphors. No. Why? Because they bind me to self-hatred, stir the anxiety pot until it overflows.

I refuse to live a life where cancer consumes not only my body, but my mind, my spirit as well. Like Medworld from yesterday, I will not allow cancer any more room in my mind and heart than it already has. I do not forget about it. Neither do I focus on it.

I turn to the lodgepole and the aspen. To life with Shadow. To improving my writing. Life is for living, not for waiting to die.

An enduring lesson of the Shema. The oneness of all becoming.  All is part of the one. Nothing lies outside it. Not cancer. Not war. Not crime.

Oneness challenges me to calm myself. To not let life be colonized by fear or self-pity. That’s why saying the Shema can act as a shield against anxiety and discontent. Stay here. Stay now.

Seek what you need.

Give up what you don’t need.