Shabbat
Cosmos
Story Time
A Train
A Ketubah
A Letter
A Bell
A Seder
This is the story of the last two weeks, with world news as the backdrop and undercurrent of our adventures and celebrations.
SHABBAT
Rhonda and I traveled to Lawrence, Kansas, where I led a Shabbat Family Service for the Lawrence Jewish Community Congregation. The place was familiar and some of the faces were the same as the last time I sang in that particular space in 2006. I have always been so impressed at the community preserving its unique identity across generations and among long-times and new members, all who demonstrate a sense of responsibility for the continuity of their special kehillah. They sang with me melodies that were familiar and new, and we were warmed by the spirit of Shabbat in that holy space.
COSMOS
We didn’t see a full solar eclipse, but the 89.5% with which nature graced us demonstrated the happenstance design of the solar/lunar dance, through which the new moon covers the sun in such a way as to reveal its corona. This year, the eclipse was a reminder that the coming 15th day of the lunar orbit/month would bring the beginning of the Jewish holiday of Passover. We saw images of our eclipsed small star cast onto the ground through the leaves of nearby trees and through our special glasses as we sat with other residents of our apartment complex, feeling the cool breeze and noticing a slight decrease in daylight. It was cosmic and communal all at the same time.
STORY TIME
Six days later, we were with our granddaughter and grandson in their room while their parents were out for the night at a special event. Rhonda expertly read a story for the young woman in the room, and the young man requested a book that called on me to read in person what I had recorded for him for his last birthday: the book A JEDI YOU WILL BE, which, of course was narrated on the pages by Yoda and, by me, in Yoda voice (which sounds a lot like Grover…hmm). The smile on his face and the rapt attention of a the grandson in question was worth it!
A TRAIN
Two days after that, we took a train from that place (Big Apple that it is) to the city of Brotherly (I like to say Siblingly) Love for a wedding. Rhonda and I had not yet traveled via Amtrak in our nearly 42 years together. We had some apprehension, given backs that have felt better than they do now, but the suitcases were cooperative as we stepped onto and rode down the escalator to the track, put the rolling spinner in the luggage compartment in our car, and kept the rolling garment bag with us. The trip took us through scenery that included some trees, some residential areas, and some industry. I was able to follow our hour-long route on my phone’s Maps app. We arrived at the station on time and a taxi transported us to the hotel. So this was officially a planes, train, and automobile trip, that was, fortunately not like the movie of the same name.
A KETUBAH
It had been some time since I signed a Ketubah as a witness. The bride, whom I have known for over 25 years, requested my presence at the wedding in this capacity, as Rhonda and I had been present with her family when she became Bat Mitzvah and was confirmed at Temple in 10th grade, and as I had officiated at milestone occasions/moments for other members of her family. Such continuity has great meaning on many levels, and the significance was not lost on me as I signed my Hebrew name on a beautiful, multi-colored document, after I had offered words of reminiscence and blessing the night before, and before Rhonda and I joined other friends from Topeka and many other family and friends to join in collective witness of this union of two amazing people.
A LETTER
Rhonda and I visited the Weitzman National Museum of American Jewish History in Philadelphia on the day of the wedding. What stays with me from the featured exhibits is the letter from President George Washington to the “Hebrew Congregation of Newport, Rhode Island.” The sentiments were expressed with sincerity and humility, asserting that the United States is not a country where people are “tolerated,” but welcomed, and that what is required of them is to show themselves to be good citizens. Washington’s use of the biblical phrase from the book of Micah always leaves an impact on me: “ May the Children of the Stock of Abraham, who dwell in this land, continue to merit and enjoy the good will of the other Inhabitants; while every one shall sit in safety under his own vine and figtree, and there shall be none to make him afraid.” His wish is mine as well: that everyone now would try to work through their disagreements in a way that just might bring the peace and well-being that would drive out hatred and despair.
A BELL
It was my third time to cast my eyes on the actual Liberty Bell. I have seen the replicas of the bell at the Harry S. Truman Presidential Library and Museum, in the Kansas State Capitol building, and in Liberty Bell Park in Jerusalem. Its presence is quietly imposing. As I sat in a summit on antisemitism in Kansas City two days letter, I thought about the promise of liberty on which I have placed great faith throughout my life, and which, now, at times, feels more precarious due to world events. Along with THE LETTER from above, the BELL offers a reminder not to give up on working for freedom, even when some may ascribe to me and my identity an aura of oppression. I refuse to take up that mantle that others would impose on me, but, instead, to insist that in-person dialogue, which is based on listening and honesty, is the only way we will discover how to work together.
A SEDER
Passover has not begun, but I led a Seder this week at a senior living community where my first cousin had resided for many years until her death two years ago. The attendees included a Holocaust survivor, people originally from this area and other cities, some who were Jewish and some who were from other faith communities. With music and characteristic readings and rituals, we told the story of the Israelites moving from slavery to freedom. This event offered my first taste of matzah for the year, and I took the opportunity to share a melody for one of the Seder songs that came from my family tradition, a tune that likely has its roots in the small town in Lithuania where the Karols lived. So, there we were, in an open area, observing the coming Jewish holiday, singing and reading where others could see and hear us. I felt that the seder demonstrated that freedom is still very much present and its persistence is possible if we do the necessary work and take courageous steps forward.
Shabbat. Cosmos. Story Time. A Train. A Ketubah. A Letter. A Bell. A Seder.
Celebrations. Generations. Connections. Family. Freedom. Joy.
And a prayer that captives will come home, that conflicts will subside, and that the desire for control will be overcome by the power of partnership, love, compassion and cooperation.
So may it be.
