Too Much Giving?

See Conversations in Klal for her ideas, and the comments that follow, regarding redundancies in the charity/NPO realm. I'm positive this problem is not limited to the Jewish world alone, but the thought makes it that much more problematic.  

I agree with Bas-Melech when she comments: I think it bespeaks a serious lack of cooperation among klal yisrael.   

One of many examples of where we need to improve our willingness to work together... although in fairness, the very idea that there are so many people out there wanting to make positive change, may balance out the lack of cooperation.  So maybe we're generally heading in the right direction, but we just need to move on to the next stage...

Addendum:  See Prof K's long list of worthwhile suggestions at this follow-up post.

Keep the balance,

ALN

Thought for the Day

I found these photos pretty fascinating, c/o The New York Times.

Not to exaggerate a metaphor, but how aware are we, really, of the effects and ramifications of everything that comes out of our mouths?

Apparently it's graphically traceable: By virtue of our very movement, we affect the world around us in countless ways.

What a thought.

Keep the balance,

ALN

The Role of Hope

Yesterday a patient's father appeared in the hallway outside our department.   Professor O is a large man, tall and sturdily built, with a kind round face and wild, grey-and-black eyebrows over large, sensitive eyes.  He stood there with head hung down and shoulders slumped in a gesture of abject sadness.    

Professor O had walked over to the pediatric building from the oncology department in the main hospital building, to update us on the condition of his son L, and more importantly, to feel the comfort of familiar faces who have known and loved his son through many years of treatment. 

He informed us that L is not doing well, that he is reacting very badly to a recent bone marrow transplant and is extremely weak.  Despite the specialized drugs, L's body is fighting the transplant (a process known as GHVD) and destroying his own organs in the process.

Professor O is a highly educated man, a lecturer at a local university, with a good grasp of English (not his first language) and keen ability to describe complex ideas in apprehensible and interesting terms.  He is rational and emotional in equal measures, punctuating medical and scientific discussions with sensitive observations about his son's and his own emotional experience with illness.  During our many talks over the years, I have always been impressed by the way in which he speaks of his son with  deep love and sensitivity. Toward the hospital staff he consistently conveys a sense of respect, together with his belief that despite our best efforts, these multiple relapses and failures of treatment are the will of G-d.

When he arrived in the hall, Professor O was joined by two of us from the school staff and by L's oncologist.  He described how terrible his son looked and felt, the constant loss of blood, L's refusal to eat or drink.  As he spoke, his shoulders sank further toward the ground as his gaze extended outward toward ours, in search of comfort.

We understood our role:  to listen, to confirm, and most crucially, to help this man hold onto his sense of hope.  He and L had understood the heavy risks of transplantation, yet he seemed to be asking the oncologist for confirmation that proceeding with this transplant had been the right decision.  Yes, she assured him, as tears streamed down his face, this was the only option. The medicine can still help him survive the GVHD.  There is still reason to hope.

Professor O understands, L understands, and L's physician understands.  L's chances for survival are low, and meanwhile he only suffers.  Yet no one has given up hope.  For all we know, it is hope -- his own, his father's -- and not medication, that is keeping L alive.  

This hope is not misplaced optimism or denial.   It is not a substitute for recognizing reality.  Rather, I think, it is that uniquely human feeling that we are part of something greater and better than what we can see and feel at this moment.

I don't know the pain, suffering and fear L feels, nor do I truly understand that other kind of pain and suffering, and guilt, felt by his father.  I want never to know their experience from within.  But I believe that from our external point of view, we can still help L and his family hold onto hope.  From now on, it may be the only way we can really help them.*

Keep the balance,

ALN

_____

* For more reading on the subject of hope, I really like this website -- available here, in a slightly different form, as a PDF download -- sponsored by the St. Jude Children's Research Hospital.  Saint Jude is known to those of Catholic and other faiths as the Patron Saint of Lost Causes, yet somehow this is not at odds with the hospital's mission of encouraging hope in patients and their families.

We Already Do -- Correction

My good friend and neighbor Q read this post about Simhat Torah and pointed out an inaccuracy that needs correcting. (Thank you, Q!).

In fact, I am happy to report, one of the two retired rabbis in our community does not at all object to women dancing with the Torah and finds no source in halacha to forbid the practice.

My apologies to this rabbi for misunderstanding his position.

Keep the balance,

ALN

HH #188: No Clowns, No Beards, No Rats

Just when I thought we were avoiding rats, we get HH #188 coming at us with talk of small unwanted creatures in all shapes, sizes and public eating venues.  Thanks to Benji Lovitt of What War Zone for a hilarious intro to a thorough compilation by this newcomer HH host.  Go Benji!

Keep the balance,

ALN

We Already Do (and You're Welcome to Join Us!)

I just wanted to weigh in with SuperRaizy, and so many others (she lists some), regarding women's participation on Simhat Torah.  

In our community (as in RivkA's), which shall remain nameless to protect the fully involved, women dance with a sefer Torah.  This year I had the privilege of dancing with a sefer Torah in front while carrying Blondini Boy on my back, an experience I hope he'll never forget.

Following the hakafot (dancing with the Torah), we have a community kiddush, complete with a reproduction of the beit hamikdash constructed from cake and candies by the kids of the community.   

Then, in parallel to the regular Torah reading in the beit haknesset (synagogue), women who choose to participate, meet in the garden of a private home for a women's reading of Parashat v'Zot haBracha.  When we finish we return to the main reading for the children's aliyah (again, refer to RivkA's post -- only we certainly remembered the candy this year, and way too much of it if you ask me) and all the rest.

Then we have a community picnic / barbeque in the park next to the beit haknesset for some excellent, jointly prepared food.  What a wonderful way to share the cooking on the last day of a slew of holidays!

It's not without its complications... The sefer Torah we women take for the hakafot is the only one of three that we use, since its donors do not mind that women dance with it or read from it.  The  donors of the other two sifrei Torah disapprove of the idea and we honor their request.  Also, both of the retired rabbis in our community do not approve of the women's reading, and have voiced their disapproval, but not in the form of psaq halacha.  

(Addendum, 28 Oct:  Please see this post which corrects an inaccuracy).

It took many years for these customs to become status quo around here, but now they are. The girls (and boys)  of our community will certainly grow up thinking it's the status quo. Call it Facts on the Ground...?

Keep the balance,

ALN

Rain at a Snail's Pace

What are these doing here? Read on...

There we were, finishing Shabbat lunch just hours ago when BOOM!  A crash of thunder, and the heavens showered down.  For the first ten minutes or so, the downpour was heavy enough to imitate a snowfall over the not-so-distant valley.  Without missing a beat, the kids ran outside to rejoice in their own personal rain dances, while we adults stood under the eaves, hoping this was only the beginning of a long, rain-drenched season.

As the drops dissipated, our lunch hostess T (a.k.a. my father-in-law's cousin's wife, who also happens to be our neighbor; see this post) sighed.  Don't you just love that smell, after it rains?  Definitely.  I wait for that smell every year, and I was especially glad not to have to wait until mid-December, as in many years previous.  Now we wait for the newly-sowed fields in the valleys surrounding our little hilltop to begin sprouting their waves of green.  

But let's get to the really important stuff:  Immediate gratification.  Just this morning (on Shabbat, of course, when we can do nothing about it, but never mind) Always the Imp expressed a keen interest  in having a pet of her own.  OK, today was far from the first time she'd expressed such a desire, but this time she said it with such enthusiasm.

What sort of pet, I queried, getting a little nervous.

(Previous requests had included the word "rat," a pet I wouldn't entirely object to owning.  After all, I did not spend my childhood in Manhattan, a place which, as I understand it, can lead to the development of a firm anti-rat stance later in life).

Always:  A pet of my own, that I can hold.  

ALN:  What about a walking stick?  You know, it's an insect that looks like a --

Always:  I know what that is, Mommy.  They brought them to our gan [kindergarten, last year].  I don't want that.

ALN (hesitating):  How about a rat?  You once said --

Always:  No, no, not a rat.

ALN (To self): Phew.  (Out loud): Then which pet do you want?

Always:  I want a pet snail!

Apparently she had already picked up a bit of knowledge concerning this animal's personal habits, including its hermaphroditic tendencies, since a few minutes later, she added, Mommy, if I have snails, am I supposed to call them he/she?

I didn't quite know how to answer that one.   But I was relieved she had settled on such a convenient pet.  Today's rain had conveniently reawakened the snails, who protect themselves over the dry season by covering their shell openings with a coating that dissolves at first contact with water, and so they were now sliding around our garden in surprisingly large numbers.

And so, despite the Shabbat injunction against capturing wild animals, the collection process began immediately with a human-induced Gathering of the Snails onto Alway's personal snapdragon plant sitting on the windowsill (leaving the creatures free to roam and, therefore, not technically "trapped").  

After Havdalah we brought the small plastic fish box down from the closet, filled it with earth, some gathered plant life, and the chosen local snails.  

Voila!  Instant, personal pets for Always, acquired with minimal effort and, best of all, at no extra cost.  She's happy, and so are we. 

(Later a brief internet survey led to the realization that a lining of peat moss or some similar was supposed to be involved.  If you're curious about raising snails, here's one site that answers the basic questions but leaves incredulous as to whether -- as they claim -- we really are meant to be bathing the creatures.  I'll let you know about that one.  For the record, we are talking about local, indigenous snails and not the large African variety, which can wreak havoc on agriculture and is therefore illegal in both Israel and the U.S.).

I must admit, while photographing, I got kind of attached to them... they really are endearing little guys (or is that, guy/girls?), in their own way. 

And just think:  for every snail in Always' mini-terrarium, there's one snail fewer outside, munching away at my garden.

Keep the balance,

ALN

Border Issues

I don't blog politics.  Why is that?  Maybe because there's no trace of balance in politics, making it a lost cause from the start, as far as this blogger is concerned.  I also prefer not to compare apples and oranges, but in this case I'm living, or have lived, close enough to each of these situations to feel the relevancy.

I am referring to state borders and the fences that demarcate them.   This piece appeared in last Tuesday's NY Times, with an accompanying slide show. I found interesting the photo below, showing the simple barbed wire that later progressed into a taller, chained-linked fence, and which is now on its way to being a double fence separated by a no-man's land. 

Pat Nixon, the former first lady, at a dedication of Border Field State Park in 1971. "I hate to see a fence anywhere," she said. 

I know next to nothing about the former First Lady's politics or belief system, but I believe that she did hate to see a fence, probably because it reminds her of the suffering that has always accompanied the building of border fences -- the splitting up of families, suffering of children, economic upheaval, sickness, and loss of hope for the future.   

Seeing the fence would put her human, emotional side at odds with her intellectual understanding of the need for such a fence, and the ramifications of not having one. Forty years ago, the U.S. could only begin to imagine the effects of a mass illegal Central American immigration on the state and national economy, health care and education systems, water needs, and many, many other sectors of society.

So by now you've probably figured out the other border that comes to mind what else I'm thinking about... the wall (alternately referred to as a fence, since in places it does alternate between the two) marking the boundary between pre- and post-1967 Israel, and clearly visible from our house.  

(This view is actually from our neighbors' back garden, since it's clearer than the one from our balcony).

I remember the days before the wall was completed... the multiple car and animal thefts, the helicopter searches for potential terrorists in the valley below our moshav,* the afternoon shut-down of the mall in the city a few kilometers away due to terror warnings (apparently the bombers reached the mall, realized something was amiss, and were caught by the border patrol as they tried to cross back over the border).  Make no mistake:  I am happy the wall is there, because I know that without it, our lives were directly threatened.

I'm aware, as Mrs. Nixon was, that we pay a human price every time we demarcate a boundary and reinforce a border, and also that we pay a different price, both human and economic, every time we don't.  For years we have continued to live for years with a boundary situation that does not fit into a neat category, about which we as a nation have not reached a consensus, and concerning which most of the world feels an obligation to judge us, time and again, despite a naive and simplistic analysis of a very complex situation. And if that weren't enough, we are being "led" by politicians who cannot seem to get their personal or national priorities straight on the most basic of levels.

When I first read the NY Times article, I felt a moment of, Ah!  Take that, California, before you continue to condemn us for protecting our country and its citizens.  

No, this is far from a new issue.  California, and the entire U.S., have been dealing with immigration issues for years, long before President Bush, and long, long before 9/11.  Despite the numerous differences, do we have something to learn from U.S. policy?  Perhaps, but -- bottom line -- most of their considerations are still economic ones.  As much as economics has a direct effect on people's lives, for the most part in the U.S. it isn't considered to be an issue of national survival.  (Well, maybe these days it is...)

As for our multiple difficulties over here, I'm trying to keep a long-term perspective;  after all, with 158 years of statehood under their belts, even California is still trying to figure things out.  

I'm not sure if we should find that scary or reassuring.

.שבת שלום

Keep the balance,

ALN

_____

* In case you're wondering, our moshav was incorporated by Jews of North African descent in 1964 who chose to come to Israel but wanted little to do with the state's policy of dumping them upon their arrival in what was then the middle of nowhere, in the middle of the night).

HH #187: The Sukkot Edition Is Up

A huge thank-you to Baila (who, in addition to including my post at the last minute, created a whole new category for it!).  Lots of good reading here, and some nice Sukka photos.  Enjoy.

חג שמח.

ALN

Rapunzel, Rapunzel, Donate Your Hair

Elder Princeski had been weighing the idea for some time.  Seems all that hair was weighing her down.  I think she realized that with winter coming, curling into a nice warm bed, with cold wet hair, kind of defeats the purpose.

On Erev Yom Kippur, for the first time since first grade, she decided it was time to go for a real chop.  Nothing too drastic -- just below the shoulder.  (To give you some idea, see the "Welcome to the Neighborhood" photo at right, where Elder P sits on the left end of the bench, her Rapunzel-like tresses trailing behind).

I'm not sure if it would have occurred to me to turn this event into more of an event, had I not been working with (chemo-induced) bald kids for nearly the past decade.  But then suddenly, I remembered:  Sick kids.  Wig donation.  Minimum length requirements.  

Would Elder P still be interested?   I explained the option, and she was. 

Some background info:  My daughter is familiar with my line of work, and knows a bit about pediatric cancer and its social-educational ramifications.  I make an effort not to burden her in any way with excessive, threatening or scary knowledge to which most kids don't -- shouldn't -- be exposed.  The difficulties and fears can be overbearing for us adults to contemplate, let alone children.  

I also make a point of emphasizing to her that in many ways, sick kids are like all other kids.  Like all other humans, they don't want pity.  They still love to learn and play and draw and do all the other things kids do, although they don't always feel well enough to do those things.  In fact, one day last year when I invited Elder P to join me at for a special event, I spent most of the car ride there reviewing this idea, until suddenly she cut me off --  

I know, I know, Mommy.  They're regular kids, they like regular things, but they're just sick right now.

Guess the message got through.

Back to our story.  After a hasty run to the internet, we learned that the minimum length of hair accepted for donation is 25 cm.  (That's about ten inches).   I got out a ruler and measured, then measured again, and concluded that removing 25 cm would bring her hair down to slightly above her shoulders, not below.  She was disappointed.  She thought about it for a minute, and then turned around, Yes, yes yes!  

Elder P has often displayed her altruistic tendencies in the past, and now I was worried that, in her enthusiasm to do good for someone else, she was making a hasty decision that she might later regret.  I told her we weren't going to cut anything right now, but that she should go play with her friend, really think about it, and come back to me in an hour.  I reminded her that if she should decide to donate her hair, it would be a wonderful thing, but that she was in no way obligated to give away something that was so important to her. 

After half an hour she came back, so full of excitement she couldn't wait.  We went out to our tiled courtyard, tied back her hair, brought out the ruler again, and... CHOP.

I think the results are quite cute, actually, and more flattering than her previous 'do.   Here she is, hanging out in our Sukka.

As for the 25 cm donation, it sits in my work bag, awaiting delivery to a local NPO, who will have it incorporated into one or more wigs, and then presented to one of her temporarily-hairless peers.  And who knows?  Maybe in another four years, when it all grows back, she'll opt to do it again....

מועדים לשמחה.

Keep the balance,

ALN

Hidden Blooms

These flowers aren't actually more hidden than any others, although they are rather modest, delicate-looking blooms.  I have to admit, I barely noticed them.

Carob trees are now flowering in our area... I photographed these two days ago while hiking with the kids in the rolling hills behind our moshav.   (Apologies for the quality -- forgot my camera and the Nokia is, well, only a phone, after all).

Sukkot is a celebration -- of planting, of the rain we'll soon begin to pray for (although the rain itself has already begun, intermittently, in the central and Northern parts of the country). 

Meanwhile, the weather around here has been perfect for hiking -- slightly overcast mornings, beautiful sunshine in the afternoons.  So go ahead, shut down that computer, go outside and hike!  The world is waiting....

מועדים לשמחה  -- Have a wonderful Sukkot.

Keep the balance,

ALN

Update: (Less) Absurdity in Equal Measures

Apparently I'm not one of those who can keep a blog up-to-date while getting a home up-to-date for the hagim.  לא נורא - lo nora, as they say -- no harm done.  Sometimes keeping the balance means dropping one side for awhile when the other side gets too heavy.

Speaking of balance, I am happy to update this post with some excellent news. Last month, the Minhal MiKarka'ay Yisrael (Israel Land Administration) reconsidered its original decision, according to which moshavim and kibbutzim would have been charged for using their land to install solar collectors, and will now allow them to place solar collector panels on up to ten percent of their property, without paying charges or penalties.  According to one of our local community publications,

... During its last meeting, the Administration board decided that there is an urgent need to encourage the establishment of alternative enterprises to produce electricity and renewable energy.  The board backed its decision by citing the rising price of fuel and electricity, and the growing awareness of the need to preserve the environment.

I see this as an important and encouraging step forward, on two fronts:  The decision itself shows foresight and stays in step with recent national developments encouraging the development of alternative energy sources, a process we, as a country, cannot afford to hinder in any way.  This link, in Hebrew, outlines the historic June 2008 decision to allow private individuals to sell electricity back to the grid.  A synopsis in English is available here, c/o Good News from Israel.

More importantly, by reversing its original, flawed decision, the Minhal is demonstrating flexibility in its willingness to support the ability of the kibbutzim and moshavim to continue to use their primary resource, land, for the good of the entire country.  

Historically, decisions akin to this one meant that to encourage agricultural production for the whole of the nation, the kibbutzim were granted large portions of a limited resource, water, at a reduced price.  As a result they were able to feed the country, as well as providing top-notch produce for export, but over the years many of them became sloppy in their water usage and wasted an embarrassing amount of it.

As I see it, the Minhal's decision now provides a correction of past wastefulness, as it allows the kibbutzim and moshavim to take full advantage of a natural resource, solar energy, that doesn't seem to be running out any time soon.  No oil, not nearly enough rain, but sun?  It's the one thing we've got plenty of...

מועדים לשמחה -- Have a wonderful Sukkot.

Keep the balance,

ALN

A Beautiful Collection

Just jumped over to Me-ander's beautiful photo carnival.  Highly recommended - she's got some real gems up there.

גמר חתימה טובה

ALN

Yay, I'm Being Hospitalized Today!

RivkA's latest post, about her challenges and frustrations combining chemo schedules and the holidays, reminded me of M, a twelve-year old patient who, despite a brutal and debilitating treatment protocol, has still managed to hold on to his unique sense of humor.  

He is sitting with his mother outside the outpatient clinic, waiting to sign in.  He faces me straight on.  Looks me square in the eye.  You really know how to pray, right?  he demands.

ALN:  Well, I don't know, I start to stammer.  I mean, I try, but who knows if I actually succeed.

M:  I need you to pray for me.  Right now.  Because I'm about to have my blood test, and you need to pray that my white blood counts are high enough to start chemo today, because otherwise I'll be stuck here in the hospital over Sukkot.

(ALN recites an on-the-spot, spontaneous blessing, that M's counts should be healthy and strong so that he can begin chemo TODAY).

M:   Don't worry, lots of people are praying for me right now.  So if your prayer doesn't work, all the other ones will.

* * * *

Half an hour later, I am passing by M in the clinic hallway, when he announces, full volume:  I want someone to come and stab me right now!  (Translation:   I want someone to come and insert my port needle already, so I can get my blood counts as soon as possible).

Everyone, including M, is spinning with laughter.

An hour later, M shouts gleefully across the treatment room:  [ALN!  ALN!]  It worked!   It worked!  I'm being hospitalized today!

M, I guess we'll be laughing with you again tomorrow...

Keep the balance,

ALN

Speaking of Jet Lag, Part 2

We don't actually have to go anywhere to develop a national jet lag.

In the midst of cajoling our memories to backtrack and retrack our conversation, my friend S. and I found ourselves sharing a mutual sympathy for the unwanted exhaustion following that wacky tradition known as returning to Standard Time, aka Greenwich Mean +2.

(As for Daylight Saving Time -- or Daylight Shifting Time, depending on whom you ask -- we have Benjamin Franklin to thank for that.  Ben, maybe you should've stuck to writing the Almanac, dating French women and flying kites in the rain).

It never made much sense to me.  After all, if there's such a discrepancy in daylight hours between the winter and summer seasons, wouldn't it be more logical to even things out over the course of the year by extending daylight waking hours during the winter, and curtailing them over the summer?

This year's confusion started on the Sunday morning between Rosh haShana and Yom Kippur, which is when we Israelis switch back the clocks in a superfluous attempt to convince ourselves that the Yom Kippur fast is in fact shorter than it actually is.  I was unaware that my handheld digital devices knew enough to reset their own chronometers, which is why, when I got out of bed in the morning, I mistakenly assumed I had an hour and five minutes to get Elder Princeski and myself ready and out the door, instead of the five minutes actually allotted.  To her credit, she made the school bus on time.

I know there are benefits to Standard Time.  By half past five in the afternoon my kids are already clamoring for their supper, convinced that night is upon us and I have neglected to notice.  

But just try convincing my brain that this time shift thing is a good idea.  I wake up at five anyway, and start to doze by ten.  Jet lag, I say.

Keep the balance,

ALN

Six Days to Go: The Secret Scoreboard

This very second, Always the Imp is dribbling cookie crumbs and chocolate bits all over my MacBook as she desperately informs me, at the top of her well-developed lungs, that Blondini Boy JUST TOOK ANOTHER COOKIE AND I ONLY GOT ONE!!!   

Blondini Boy:  I didn't.

Always (calmly, "innocently,"):  Excuse me, Mommy, he got TWO THINGS.

Elder Princeski leans over my shoulder as I post, enjoying her mostly-unique literate status by narrating the others' exploits back at them.  She continues to read out loud as I write.  

(I think it's time for a remote Five-Minute Bedtime Challenge, so they'll go upstairs and "surprise" me by getting ready for bed while I get a written word in edgewise).

Flashback to dinner, the first night of Rosh haShana.  The neighbors are over with their motley crew, and together with ours, the resulting ruckus makes it almost impossible to hold a conversation.  But we're making the effort, when suddenly...

THAT'S NOT FAIR! yells Always.  SHE GOT SECONDS ON CAKE AND I DIDN'T!  

(Pause for thought).

Ah, I reply, but earlier today you got a candy and she didn't... doesn't that make it even?  

She's not convinced, so I continue.  You know that not everything is fair all the time. 

I see from her expression that it's time for a tactical change.  You know, up in Abba's and my room there's a big secret scoreboard that folds out of the wall when you're not looking.  That's how we, and all the other parents, keep track of who gets however many treats.  Right?  

I turn to our neighbor for confirmation.  She nods.  

Furthermore, I add, all the homes in the neighborhood are linked through the internet, so when you eat junk food at your friend's house, his parents can look up on our scoreboard whether you've had a treat recently, and if they do give you a candy, they we'll know you don't need dessert at home that night.

She looks skeptical.  

Smart kid.  But she does stop complaining about the cake discrepancy.

Still, something echoes inside me.  Here we are, on Rosh haShana, discussing a secret scoreboard.  What a metaphor.  

I mean, how many times have I looked over in envy at my neighbor's car (specifically, I'll readily admit, their lovely Mazda 5).  And oh, how I justify my desires:  If I had a car like that, I could fit the whole carpool in one trip.  The kids would have plenty of room and stop fighting all the time.

More aptly, what about all those "Why Bad Things Happen to Good People?" questions that can plague a person after a decade of working with sick kids in the hospital, or maybe as a result of our regularly scheduled lives and their accompanying losses:  A relative who dies before his time, a loved one who lose his job, her marriage, their home.  

No wonder we're so tempted to ask, Where's the "God of Justice and Mercy" we keep mentioning throughout Yom Kippur?  Experience has shown us, time and again:  No one's promised us anything.   

Still, we ask, pray, beg, cajole.  Our Father, Our King.  Save us, protect us, heal us,  forgive us. We imagine that somewhere, Up There, there must be a Big Secret Scoreboard.

Maybe it doesn't come out even in the end.  Or maybe it all comes out even in The End.  Meanwhile, we live in hope and wonder.

גמר חתימה טובה.

Keep the balance,

ALN

Eight Days to Go...

A thought for today, and the next eight days, care of Aish haTorah:  Reality check as balance.

This version is in English, and this one in Hebrew.

גמר חתימה טובה

Shabbat Shalom,

ALN

Nine Days to Go...

I admit it:  Over the past two days, my mind was wandering during parts of the tefila (prayer).  No, not just the repetition, my own tefila.  Much of what I was thinking about was teshuva (repentence), more often than not, the teshuva I'm not doing, don't know how to do, or don't have the strength to do.  Since these ten days from Rosh haShana until Yom Kipur are designated "teshuva days," I guess I have some additional time.  Meanwhile, over the holiday, one thought was especially plaguing me.

Over the past few weeks I offended an acquaintance.  Not by something I said, exactly, rather by something I did, but we all know what speaks louder than words.

The irony is that, as in I did not mean to offend her.  Furthermore, I did not want to offend her, had no reason to offend her.  Had I been thinking in a certain direction, I would have easily developed a clearer understanding of how my actions could be construed as hurtful. but I wasn't thinking about that at all.

During tefila, I came to a new understanding of a rather simple concept:  So many, perhaps a majority, of the occasions we hurt people, come about not because we are trying to hurt them , but because we haven't considered how our motivations and actions will affect them.  We act based on what we want or need, but our precious egos constrict our consideration for the minds and hearts beyond our own.  

How many times have I been offended by someone who either didn't mean to offend me, or didn't mind offending me because his own desires took priority?  Millions of times.  This ego, which gives us the strength and courage to be productive, empathic, motivated people, is often too full of strength and bravado for our own good.

Perhaps for this reason, the Jewish people are always being called on to see things from a "G-d perspective," especially during this time of year.  Whether or not a person chooses to believe in G-d is almost irrelevant -- in any event, we all understand what it means to sometimes question the existence / power / presence of G-d. 

However, when we are asked, offered, or demanded to view things from the G-d perspective, we are required to look beyond ourselves and see things globally.  How does G-d really see the big picture?  How does G-d make sure everyone's needs get met?  To what extent do events in one place affect those in another?  How do my actions, my motivations, affect my friend, my neighbor, my colleague, my fellow humans?  

I don't have the answers.  I only have a blessing for myself and others:  That we will shape our own motivations and actions with more empathy, compassion, and understanding toward the motivations and actions of others. 

Keep the balance,

ALN