•    Promoting Cross-cultural Understanding: Judaism   

    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.

  •    Coincidences   

    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.

  •    Risus Paschalis   

    (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.”

  •    Gained and Lost   

    Gained and Lost

    I have been going through some of the older things in my filing system. One needs to do that every now and then. I have realized my intellectual life has been very confined for a while now. I used to do research on things that interested me – both on-line and hard copy. I took notes, printed things out, tried reproducing the results from experiments others had done, did my own experimentation and took notes on the results – even drafting suck – er- friends to help. And then I just…stopped.

    I have a thousand and one excuses – time, money, other things to do – but I have a hard time admitting and recognizing the real reason. Somehow it seems a betrayal of Shawn to say she’s a major part of what happened. She was ill. She needed a lot of care. She needed a lot of my time – time just sitting with her, watching TV with her because her eyes were getting too bad to read, cooking for her, cleaning up the kitchen, doing laundry, time just being with her while she slept so she could sleep (around the corner at the computer was too far away, reading a book wasn’t ‘being with her’, reading to her wasn’t what she wanted either). She wanted me to be her shadow. Even cooking was difficult. She would keep calling me in to ask what I was doing, if things were ready, could I bring her (something). If I needed to go shopping, she wanted to know why, what I would be getting, where I would be going, when I would be back – preferably to within 5 minutes – and while I was gone she would call me every 15 minutes or so to ask what I was doing, where I was, how long before I’d be home. It wasn’t a huge flaw on her part. She wasn’t trying to stifle me and my creativity. She wasn’t suspicious I was ‘cheating’ on her somehow. She was, plain and simply, scared.

    It’s easy to get scared when you’re sick. And there are degrees. There’s being scared it’s going to hurt if you cough, and then there’s being scared you’re going to die imminently. Chronic illness runs the gamut from one to the other, sometimes several times in a single day. It just gets worse as more things go wrong and more diagnoses are added to the mix. Shawn was braver than most people, in my opinion. She toughed it out, going and doing as long as she could, ignoring discomfort and pain to do the things she wanted to do. But that willpower isn’t a cure-all. She was still sick, and getting worse. And one day, about a year after we were ‘civilized’, she couldn’t push any more. She still did what she could – midnight trips to the 24 hour Wal-Mart with the electric carts so she could get around, without having to dodge people who looked at her as ‘just a fatso who needed to loose weight’, carts that let her spend all night out, looking at stuff, talking to employees who saw her enough to recognize her and ask how she was. She stopped doing even that after she had a seizure from low blood sugar in the store and the ambulance was called. She went once after that, but was so uncomfortable feeling she was being watched in case she had a problem again, she decided it wasn’t worth it. And somewhere in there, she started getting scared. It was just a little thing at first. Not wanting to walk outside, even with a cane or walker, without me there to help her. Wanting places to sit everywhere in the house so she was never more than a step away from one. As her illnesses progressed, her fear progressed, until she wanted me with her every minute of every day. She would let me leave her side long enough to do necessary things, but no more than that. She was afraid she was going to die, and it would be very uncomfortable – that she’d fall while I was out for some reason and die before I got home of something painful and preventable, for example. She wasn’t afraid of death, per se, she was afraid of the mechanics of dying, and she didn’t want me to go through any more than was necessary if she did die. She didn’t want me to blame myself for not ‘being there’ to help. We both knew she was dying. It was just a question of how fast, and which thing would actually be fatal. When she wanted me to spend all my time with her, it was what I wanted too. When you know time is finite, even if you’re not sure how finite, being with the person you love more than anything is all that is important. You squeeze every moment you can into your experience of them so when they go, they are still there in your heart and memory. You loose their body, not them.

    As I was realizing I had paused for a long, drawn out death, I also realized it is time to be the person Shawn fell in love with again. The person who is curious about all aspects of the world, who tests theories, who proposes hypotheses, who uses knowledge, insight, and experimentation to try to make the world a better place for everyone. I may not have Shawn for a sounding-board close at hand, but I am surrounded by people who have similar interests to mine, and who are willing to help me learn and to learn from me.

    It’s time to break out the notes, and get going.