The mensches* over at Simple to Remember (http://www.simpletoremember.com) have given the rest of us Goyim* a real gift with a beautiful, straightforward, easy-to-understand site that explains Judaism without patronizing, pandering or proselytizing (which is bupkis*, anyway… Jews don’t go out of their way to convert non-Jews. Never have, never will.)  It’s just straightforward saykhel,* with nisht gefonfit.* Just  richtiker chaifetz.*

The tone is gentle, respectful koved*, gut gezugt*, and glick* to the rest of us for the mitzvah* of Simple to Remember for their willingness to share this with us.

To the mensches* over at Simple to Remember, a leben ahf dir!* And to you, my fiends, thank you for approaching this with an open mind, curiosity, and wonder. We can learn more about ourselves and who we are by learning about our friends. To you, Gai gezunterhait! – Go in good health!

A Shikseh’s Yiddish to English translation guide. (I’m from New York. You expected ancient Hebrew?)

*Mensch (Yiddish: מענטש mentsh; German: Mensch, for “human being”) means “a person of integrity and honor”
*Goy (Hebrew: גוי‎, regular plural goyim גוים or גויים) is a Hebrew biblical term for “nation”. By Roman times it had also acquired the meaning of “non-Jew”.
*Bupkis (also spelled “bubkes”): emphatically nothing, as in He isn’t worth bubkes (literally ‘goat droppings’, possibly of Slavic origin; cf. Polish bobki ‘animal droppings’)
*Saykhel – Common sense
*Nisht gefonfit – Don’t hedge. Don’t fool around. Don’t double-talk
*Richtiker chaifetz – The real article!  The real McCoy!
*Koved – Respect, honour, reverence, esteem
*Gut gezugt – Well said
*Glick – Luck, piece of luck
*Mitzvah – Good deed
*A leben ahf dir! – You should live! And be well!
*Gai gezunterhait! – Go in good health

My deepest gratitude to Michael Hanna-Fein and the Gantseh-megillah Yiddish Glossary for providing an invaluable resource with accurate Yiddish spellings. For more on the Yiddish language, Michael can be contacted by e-mail. Be sure to put “Yiddishkeit” in the subject line.

When you’re sitting looking at life from the everyday perspective of things to do, not enough time to do them all, worrying about disappointing people who are depending on you – every once in a while the Universe throws you a curve. You open the door to go out and work in the garden because you ‘have’ to plant those seeds right now today, and the sky opens up with a downpour to nearly drown you. So you can’t plant the seeds right now today, and you have to think farther along your list for something to do inside until the rain stops and the ground dries out a bit. You go to sew a dress you’ve promised someone, and there isn’t thread. There’s really lots of thread, it’s just the wrong color, or not enough for what you need, and nothing you can really fake it with. Dinner requires creativity because you haven’t gone shopping yet. The people you need to talk to aren’t there today. And just as you’re about to explode with stress and frustration, a little dog looks up at you, and smiles, and wags her tail saying “you’re the most important person in the world right now, and I love you”. So you sit down, and she asks to jump in your lap, and when you say OK, she is so happy and enthusiastic just to be close to you, you forget to be stressed and frustrated because someone you could easily kill trusts you, and loves you for no reason except for joy, and is happy to be close and feel safe in your arms. And you remember you are a Child of God in that moment.

A while ago, I was lucky enough to witness several people talking about their spiritual paths and their assessments of their own progress along those paths. The group consisted of a couple of teachers and several of their students, none Wiccan. The conversation went something like this:

Teacher A: Yes, for a long time now I have been able to communicate directly with (the Divine). I sit down to meditate and (S/He) comes to me and we have face to face conversations.

Students, seeming collectively impressed: Ahh…

Teacher B: Oh. What does (S/He) look like when (S/He) comes to you?

Teacher A: Well – (description)

Students look at each other.

Teacher B: Well, when (S/He) comes to me, (S/He) looks – (description).

At this point battle lines seemed to be forming. The two teachers were each sure they had the TRUE vision, but neither was going to openly contradict the other. I suppose this was a sign of mature spirituality. The debate continued, but the students were off in their own direction.

Student 1: I guess I’m not very spiritually evolved because (the Divine) has never appeared to me.

Student 2: I think I might have sort of seen (Divinity) once, but (S/He) didn’t look the way either of them said.

Student 3: I can’t visualize at all. I guess I’m never going to be really spiritually evolved.

The thing I found saddest about the whole affair was that neither “teacher” addressed a valid concern of the students. They were both so involved with posturing that they missed pointing out to the students that what one individual envisions has very little bearing on the truth of any other individual’s relationship with the Divine. The students obviously were interpreting their teacher’s statements to mean that the students could not be “spiritually evolved” (whatever that is) until and unless they literally had a vision of the Divine which matched their teacher’s personal vision.

A little later in the day, the students saw me sitting alone and came over to me. After introductions and “We noticed you”s, they asked my opinion on their teachers’ debate.

When Student 3 reiterated dismay regarding any hope of spiritual evolution, I felt compelled to make further inquiry. Student 3 said they felt the presence of (the Divine) when they looked at natural things, trees, flowers, wind – and that they saw (the Hand of the Divine) in things like a newborn. They got a feeling of Divine approval when they offered a kindness or comfort to another living being. My observation was that this was an equally valid and, to me at least, a much more practical “vision” of (the Divine). I asked them to consider whether they felt spiritual evolution was touching the Divine, being in touch with the Divine, being touched by the Divine, or different combinations at different times. And I reminded them not to judge what can only be a very personal relationship on the basis of what someone else says their situation is.

Some people crave strong visions of individual Deities, some need the caress of a raindrop, others are content without any sort of proof. If it’s your relationship, it must be right for you. It is easy to fall into the path of accepting another’s statements rather than inquiring of ourselves. It can be very reassuring to have our own personal beliefs confirmed by the statements of someone we respect and whose opinions we value, but we should all realize it is just that – reassurance – and not an immutable absolute. As we grow and change, our relationships grow and change. Our relationship to, and our interpretation of, the Divine will probably follow that same rule throughout our existence.

“And the whole of My law is Love.” – most religions

(Originally written April 19, 2007)

“I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable,
I sound my barbaric YAWP over the roofs of the world.”
-Walt Whitman, “Song of Myself,” from Leaves of Grass.

“Long ago in southern Germany, in Bavaria, during the late middle ages there was a custom in many of the Catholic churches of that region that was quite unusual. At the end of the Easter church service, the Easter Mass, the priest would leave the altar and come down among the people and lead the congregation in what was called the “Risus Paschalis” which means “the Easter laughter.” The priest would tell funny stories and sing comical songs, and the church would ring with laughter. Of course the point was obvious, the laughter echoing through the church was a tangible testimony to the merriment born out of the tidings of this great day, Jesus Christ alive and loose among us. All the forces that conspired to lay him in his tomb, the fury, the lovelessness, the violence, the vaunted powers of kings and empires, they are made a laughing stock.”
Preached by Dr. John M. McCoy at Highland Park Presbyterian Church, Dallas, Texas, USA, on 04/23/2000. Scripture Reference(s): Psalm 126:1-6; Mark 16:1-8

This, to me, is the Divine Mystery of Christianity: The Power Greater than Death that moves through all living beings.

Christ is born, a mortal man, who shows that living by his example is a true path to God, and proves that death is only an illusion and the soul lives on. Even after he suffers through the worst of what humanity can dish out, including human, cowardice, anger, power-corruption, viciousness, and petty politics, he still forgives his tormentors. He dies, true, but that is only an illusion. It is a tiny piece of the much greater Mystery of Divine Grace.

Good Friday is about the suffering of Christ at the hands of men. Calling it “the Passion” stems from the late Latin passionem (nom. passio) “suffering, enduring.” (This means to “feel passion” for somebody literally means that you are “suffering” for them, but that’s another essay.) This is the universal, “Mean People Suck,” that anybody who has ever been falsely accused, tormented and put on trial for the twisted way human minds will filter genuine acts of love and compassion. It’s a timeless story because everyone who has ever felt wrongly persecuted can relate to these feelings.

However, Easter itself is a message of hope. It’s spring returning after the winter’s cold, and the rains coming after the drought. It’s the Resurrection, the triumph over human weakness and iniquity. It’s loudly proclaiming to the world, “You can not defeat me. You can try, but I will persevere, and in the end, I will win.”

According to legend, it was a humble monk who first invented “Bright Monday,” or “Laughing Monday,” finding it the best way to celebrate Easter Monday. After all, it is the other side of Good Friday. It is the defeat of death, the victory at the end of the trial. It is Walt Whitman’s “Barbaric Yawp” sounded over the rooftops of the world. It is the final thumbing the nose at Satan: “I am still here, and you have not defeated me.”

The challenge, of course, comes in the forgiveness. To truly follow Christ’s example, we need to truly forgive those tormentors. Is this possible? After all, we are, “only human,” and, over time, our hate begins to calcify, to harden into armor. It becomes comfortable, and we cling to it with the superstitious belief that if we hold tight enough to this thing, this armor of hate, that we will never be blindsided again. If we hate those who have done evil to us, and we hate them long enough and hard enough, we will, somehow, either visit that same evil upon them or miraculously shield ourselves from ever being hurt again. However, the inability to forgive does not render us invulnerable. In the end, all it does is sap our strength and drain our energies until eventually we are weakened, shriveled, hateful, ugly creatures who are no better than those who caused all the trouble in the first place.

The disappointing truth is that whether we can forgive or not often doesn’t amount to a hill of beans to those who hurt us. If they cared that much and knew how much pain they were inflicting they wouldn’t have done such things in the first place. Chances are, they will continue to move through the world, being their ugly, warped, hateful selves, until some greater force causes them to re-evaluate why they are choosing to be this way. Holding onto our hate only causes us further pain: by making us re-live that moment over and over again.

However, letting it go is not only a gift we can give ourselves, it is the greatest gift we can give ourselves. It removes those boundaries and allows us to touch our own truth, our joy, our vital life force. Through this, we touch the eternal. We defeat the forces that are killing us slowly and re-unite with the Divine. This, then, is the message of Easter, and of Laughing Monday: “There is a Truth that is Greater Than Us All, and it is Very, Very Good.”

I heard a song today that made me cry.
They were tears of wonder, and love. Portia and I were crying, and smiling. Because it made me think of all the people I love, and my family. And all the people in the world, that have spent a winter without heat, without food, without water.
Without a hug to warm their soul,
Without a family to call them home.
I’ve been to those worlds, many a time and each time needed someone to be there to help me, to understand and love me for every imperfection.

I have found, and lost love along the way. I have been hurt, and sadly, hurt others in my life. We’ve all changed, we’ve all aged, and we’ve all walked the branches of our tree. And if you can find that moment where your heart is lightened, your smile is bright, and your laughter merry… then you are the richest of any person this holiday. No matter what religion, sect, or creed you call your faith, may you follow it in love.

Love to all

Johnny Cash – The Christmas Guest

It happened one day near December’s end,
Two neighbors called on an old-time friend
And they found his shop so meager and mean,
Made gay with a thousand boughs of green,
And Conrad was sitting with face a-shine
When he suddenly stopped as he stitched a twine
And he said, “Old friends, at dawn today,
When the cock was crowing the night away,
The Lord appeared in a dream to me
And said, ‘I am coming your guest to be’.
So I’ve been busy with feet astir,
Strewing my shop with branches of fir,
The table is spread and the kettle is shined
And over the rafters the holly is twined,
And now I will wait for my Lord to appear
And listen closely so I will hear
His step as He nears my humble place,
And I open the door and look on His face. . .”

So his friends went home and left Conrad alone,
For this was the happiest day he had known,
For, long since, his family had passed away
And Conrad had spent many a sad Christmas Day.
But he knew with the Lord as his Christmas guest
This Christmas would be the dearest and best,
So he listened with only joy in his heart.
And with every sound he would rise with a start
And look for the Lord to be at his door
Like the vision he had a few hours before.
So he ran to the window after hearing a sound,
But all that he could see on the snow-covered ground
Was a shabby beggar whose shoes were torn
And all of his clothes were ragged and worn.
But Conrad was touched and went to the door
And he said, “Your feet must be frozen and sore,
I have some shoes in my shop for you
And a coat that will keep you warmer, too.”

So with grateful heart the man went away,
But Conrad noticed the time of day.
He wondered what made the Lord so late
And how much longer he’d have to wait,
When he heard a knock and ran to the door,
But it was only a stranger once more.
A bent, old lady with a shawl of black,
With a bundle of kindling piled on her back.
She asked for only a place to rest,
But that was reserved for Conrad’s Great Guest.
But her voice seemed to plead, “Don’t send me away
Let me rest for awhile on Christmas day.”
So Conrad brewed her a steaming cup
And told her to sit at the table and sup.
But after she left he was filled with dismay
For he saw that the hours were slipping away
And the Lord had not come as He said He would,
And Conrad felt sure he had misunderstood.

When out of the stillness he heard a cry,
“Please help me and tell me where am I.”
So again he opened his friendly door
And stood disappointed as twice before,
It was only a child who had wandered away
And was lost from her family on Christmas Day.
Again Conrad’s heart was heavy and sad,
But he knew he should make the litte girl glad,
So he called her in and wiped her tears
And quieted all her childish fears.
Then he led her back to her home once more
But as he entered his own darkened door,
He knew that the Lord was not coming today
For the hours of Christmas had passed away.
So he went to his room and knelt down to pray
And he said, “Dear Lord, why did you delay,
What kept You from coming to call on me,
For I wanted so much Your face to see. . .”

When soft in the silence a voice he heard,
“Lift up your head for I kept My word–
Three times My shadow crossed your floor–
Three times I came to your lowly door–
For I was the beggar with bruised, cold feet,
I was the woman you gave something to eat,
And I was the child on the homeless street.
Three times I knocked and three times I came in,
And each time I found the warmth of a friend.
Of all the gifts, love is the best,
I was honored to be your Christmas guest.”

Bengal's Baul Musicians

By Keith Goetzman, UTNE reader, 11/10/2009
(reproduced solely for not-for-profit educational purposes)

These groups of artists, many of them men, live together and play music night and day. Easily identified by their patchwork clothes and the instruments they carry, they live as outsiders, rejecting social hierarchies in favor of a collective mindset.

No, I’m not talking about an anarchist folk-punk band in Seattle, but the Baul musicians of Bengal, their more spiritually minded Eastern kin. Musician and writer Valentine Harding writes in the September-October issue of Resurgence about visiting a group of Bauls in West Bengal, India, who carry on this centuries-old folk tradition. A musician named Ananda welcomes her to his ashram, or “place of spiritual practice,” a small communal group where the Bauls live in harmony with nature:

Every morning and evening, Ananda and others play kirtan and bhajan devotional songs, their music greeting the dawn or fading into the night sky. All Baul music is intimately connected with Nature’s rhythms. Ananda says, “The birds, trees and animals listen to our music, and when we sing, we connect with their inner being.”

One of the Bauls’ biggest fans, Harding writes, was the Bengali poet, writer, philosopher, and social reformer Rabindranath Tagore, who became entranced by their music and their ideals and incorporated Baul themes into his poetry, music, and drama:

Tagore’s praise of Bauls and his adoption of their themes in his work enhanced their reputation, because in spite of being regarded as saintly musician-mystics, they nonetheless had a low status and lived on the fringes of society. Fortunately, today in West Bengal and Bangladesh, Bauls are becoming more respected by many people for their way of life, their spirituality and their music, and are often seen as representing ideals for a more equal and just society.

Baul music’s higher profile has put in onstage at the World Sacred Music Festival, the Morocco-based event that now has touring offshoots around the world, and the Fireflies Festival of Sacred Music in Bangalore, Bangladesh. Singer Kartick Das Baul (pictured), one of the form’s better-known exponents, has even sung in many Bengali films and has performed with the Kolkata-based jazz band Just Us at Fireflies, according to the Indian arts and entertainment website Buzz18.com.

Kartick Das Baul’s main gig, though, is with the Baul folk band Oikyotaan, which according to its website “aims at reaching a space where folk and contemporary music complement each other.” The band has made a film titled Notun Projonmer Baul (New Generation Baul) and hopes to establish a Baul foundation to promote and preserve Baul culture.

Listen to samples of Baul music at the Resurgence website; listen to samples of Oikyotaan’s music at the band’s website.

Sources: Resurgence, Buzz18.com, Oikyotaan

Image by mdemon, licensed under Creative Commons.

Daily Spiritual Practice is a crucial part of the journey to the Divine. Thousands of books have been written on this subject, and how everything from washing dishes to cleaning the bathroom can be a part of Daily Practice. One valuable piece of advice I heard while studying Celtic Shamanism was to say “Grace”, a blessing of gratitude for the meal, every day, at every meal, as part of daily practice. At the very least, this connects you with the divine an average of three times a day. This brings a “mindfulness” to the meal, an awareness that by taking nourishment into our bodies we join in a kind of sacred communion with the Earth that brought forth that food, and the beings who gave their lives so that we might continue ours.

The sacred practice of “mindfulness” is the cornerstone of many paths to spiritual enlightenment. The 2006 Random House Unabridged Dictionary defines “mindful” as “attentive, aware, or careful (usually fol. by of): mindful of one’s responsibilities.” The practice of doing all things with a sacred intent has been vital to the teachings of many modern-day gurus, including Titch Nat Han and Ram Dass.

Achieving mindfulness through saying grace can be as simple as bowing the head in silent reverence for a moment, or ad enduring as an entire “silent meal.” (Imagine an entire dining hall filled with people eating in silent mindfulness!) However, the basic “Grace” has an enduring charm. It’s simple enough for a child to learn, it often rhymes, and it tends to get to the point.

The shortest Grace I know of is simply, “Ta, Pa. Amen.” Second place goes to, “Bless the bunch that munch this lunch,” followed very closely by the ever popular, “Good food, Good meat, Good Lord, Let’s eat.”

Graces transcend time and culture, but there are a few favorites which endure. Most of these can be traced to the 1928 and 1979 Episcopal books of common prayer, and the Roman Catholic Church. “Bless us, O Lord, for these, Thy gifts, which we are about to receive…” seems to be the standard for most Catholic families I’ve known, although the variation, “Bless us, O Lord, for these, Thy gifts, which we are about to receive from Thy bounty. Help us to be mindful of all our blessings, and the needs of those who have less,” strikes a cord with me.

The basic Grace my Presbyterian Grandfather used was always, “Father, bless this food we take and bless us all for Jesus sake.” As I’ve researched through various graces, they all seem to follow a similar pattern: Gratitude, request for blessings of food and family, optional request for blessings for others or society at large. Within that framework, there are thousands of variations.

Here follow a few of the ones I particularly enjoyed, although I’m sure you could add a few of your own!

The “Weslyan” Grace
“Be present at our table, Lord!
Be here and everywhere adored.
Thy creatures bless, and grant that we
May strengthened for thy service be.”
(Var: Thy Mercies Bless, and grant that we
May feast in Paradise with Thee.)

“Bless O Lord this food {these gifts} to our use and us to thy loving service; and keep us ever mindful of the needs of others. Amen.”

The classic Grace taught to me as a child begins with:
“God is great, God is good.
Let us thank him for our food.”

However, there is a “Second Verse” I was not aware of, and there are several variations on this.
“By his hands, we are fed.
Let us thank him for our bread.”
-or-
“Gonna thank him mornin’ and night
Gonna thank our God ‘cause he’s out of sight!”

One mother tells of her five-year-old loves to belting out: the song from Walt Disney’s “Johnny Appleseed”:
“The Lord is good to me
and so I thank the Lord
for giving me the things I need
the sun and the rain and the apple seed.
The Lord is good to me!”

Another mother shares this prayer her daughter learned at daycare when she was four. Years later, it is still her favorite.
“Thank you, God, for loving me.
Thank you for my family.
Help me to learn more each day
To be kind at work and play.”

Finally, my personal favorite:
“For all the blessings you’ve bestowed
upon this home and this family,
For the days we’ve had together
and all the days still yet to be,
For all the joys and sorrows too
That bind us each ever closer,
For healing and support we gain
Each to each, unto each other.
For victories that bring us strength
For all the trials we’ve overcome,
Teaching we can do no great things,
Only the small things with great love,

We thank you. Amen”

(Original author unknown.)

"Gates of Dawn" (original artist unknown, please contact us if you know!)

PAGANUS, EXANIMO
A rebuke, and an invitation

I am a Pagan.
It comes from the Latin, ‘PAGANUS’.
It means simply, “country dweller”,
One who lives close to the Earth,
In harmony with nature, and her cycles of seasons and weather.

I am NOT a be-deviled worshipper of Satan,
Which to me is a demonized construct of the early Christian Church fathers,
An entity who is younger by eons than the Divine Spirit
Who quickens the life of my body
And animates the Universe itself.

I am NOT a godless person, devoid of spirituality, ethics, or moral feeling.
I am NOT a worshipper of “created things”.
I am NOT a “weirdo” who labels myself “religious”,
While having no real depth to my so-called spirituality–
Despite the contrary and zealous assertions of those
Who would force feed me their interpretations of Biblical doctrine
Like bitter castor oil “for my own good.”

No, in fact I connect with the Sacred, with the Divine
Immanent in all things, and I do not worship their material presence alone.
When the Sacred within me communes with the Divine within you,
That Truth and ancient Dance leaves little room for evil, hatred, and intolerance.
Though I daily encounter many who seem more than willing
To assail me with their own loathing, fear, and rejection
Of what they do not understand,
All in the name of One who preached only
Acceptance, compassion, tolerance, and understanding.

For me the Divine can be Goddess,
The Maiden Huntress of forest, field, and hill
The Eternal Mother, whose natural bounty and blessings surround us,
The Ancient Crone who imparts wisdom of ages and healing lore.

For me the Divine can be God,
The Lord of the Dance, the Animals, the Hunt
The Sacred King, whose cyclic end
Renews and rebirths the Land and its people
The Ancient Sage, the Wise Old Man
Who beckons us to greater spiritual understanding.
I am a Pagan.
I honor the earth and the Divine within it.
I decry those practices
Which lead to and perpetuate its devastation and exploitation.

I listen to the ancient music,
Whose strains are yet audible in my modern songs.
It calls me to dance,
With the drumbeat, the pulse of the Earth itself.
My ancestors live again through me.
I follow the Old Ways, and those lost Mysteries surface again,
With new significance for modernity.

I care little if you choose to do as I do.
But talk to me if you will,
If you would understand me and what I represent.
For know this well:
The Old Ways are indeed returning,
And many of us are hearing the call
To follow these ancient Paths once again,
For the answers they provide to questions which burn in our souls.
Some of us have kept these traditions alive in our own families
With varying degrees of secrecy and success.
Others learn from the remnants found in old stories and poems,
And incorporate those remnants into entirely new practices.

Our numbers grow, though we do not proselytize.
Whatever you choose to do, we will not simply go away,
Whether you wish it so or not.
But talk to me if you will.
Let us share our stories with each other
And see what happens next.

The original “David’s Hymn,” attributed to Jim Reeves, has been covered countless times.  One of my favorite versions is a very humble acoustic guitar solo by Jeff Buckley, which can be found here.)

(By the way, for the Bible Geeks, the original version references the story of King David’s downfall by having an affair with, and eventually impregnating, Bathsheba. Bathsheba was the wife of Uriah the Hittite, which was made all the more inconvenent by Uriah being not only a good friend, but also off at war. Since Uriah would not leave the front lines to return home so they could conceal the illegitimacy of the pregnancy, King David made sure Uriah would be killed in war, and took his wife to be the latest in his string of many wives.  While all too human, this displeased the Lord, and eventually lead to David’s downfall. )
(2 Samuel 11)

By Keith Goetzman