Listening for God? Or just for us?

I was reading Harold Kushner's book "Living a Life that Matters", when I came across a section about Jeremiah and listening to God.  He wrote:

My question to Jeremiah would be: What did you mean when you said 'The word of the Lord came to me...' How does God speak to people? How can you be sure that it is God's voice and not your own wishful thinking? Of the many voices that come into our minds, how do we recognize which is the authentic voice of God?"

That question resonated with me, especially in this election season when so many claim to know exactly what God wants us to do. Too many candidates are all too willing to tell everyone whom God loves and whom God hates.  They, as ordinary human beings, say they know what behaviors and what attitudes God approves of, and which He/She/It condemns.

So how do they know?   What tools do they have to separate the divine voice from their own biases and prejudices?  Sure, some of them can quote scripture or commentary to support their view.  But then again, others can quote from the same sources and have a totally different result. So which, if anyone, is really hearing God's voice? Which is God's message and which is our own?

The question is nothing new.  The Rabbis who wrote the Talmud claimed to be writing the will of God, and yet even amid their very closed group, there was more argument and disagreement than agreement.  Surely if they had heard the word of God, there would be no room for debate!

And any student of history knows that the greatest horrors in our world's history came from different views of what God wants, what God says.

The founders of this country understood this dilemma, too. They tried to put into place protection from a state view of religion, and Jefferson wrote extensively about the need to separate religion and government, knowing that our very human issues often cloud the real message.

So why, knowing this reality, do we still, as a country, accept candidates who claim to speak from their own religious point of view?  Why do we not tell them to leave the religious message at the door to their synagogue or mosque or church?

Why if we cannot know how to hear God's voice above our own, do we still accept the words of other humans who claim that they are immune?

The divine sparks are everywhere.....

Light plays a critical role in almost every religion. Light as energy, light as G-d (or Goddess), light as renewal or hope....

Candles, stories of light, prayers for divine light exist in almost every faith.

According to one of Judaism's great mystical Rabbis, when G-d was creating the universe, the process began with vessels filled with some of G-d's own divine light.  But the vessels could not contain such powerful light (what COULD contain G-d, really?) and the vessels shattered.  Shards of divine light spread throughout the universe, and became a part of every thing -- people, animals, plants, even inanimate things likes rocks.  So in everything we see/touch/breathe there is a bit of G-d's light.

I love that story.  It mirrors the interconnectedness of all things in Buddhism, as well as the many faces and aspects of G-d in Hinduism. It reflects the all-reaching light of the Goddess, and the all-encompassing touch of Mother Earth from Wiccan and Native American beliefs. And that should come as no surprise...surely the light which reaches all things, has been felt and seen by all beings at some point in time.

Every where and every thing G-d's light. She/He is the light. Within and without.

Nowhere and Now Here...

Love and Light to you all.  Namaste. Shabbat Shalom.

Yom Kippur Meditations

Silence your mumblings –

the dry, dead words only turn to dust on your tongue.

Take off your bright, stiff clothes and

wrap yourself in soft white cotton robes.

Leave behind the cool rooms and chairs and benches –

spread a blanket on the ground and look up at the sky

instead.

Breathe.

G-d is here.

Silence the noise.

Can you hear the gates closing now?

There is still time.

Close your books, and let your prayers come from your

Heart

Pain

Joy

Sorrow

Regret

Need

G-d is here and the gates are still open.

There is so little time.

Close your books and leave your rooms behind.

G-d is here.

Lindsay Shugerman

Yom Kippur 5771

Peace to us all for Pink Saturday....

Clockwise, from wind chimes: Wiccan beltane, Buddhist nuns, Muslim girl in hijab, Christian Minister, Hindu bride, Jewish woman in Tallit

We're all in this together, this thing we call life.

Most of us want the same things.  Peace.  A healthy and happy family.  Good kids.  A warm, dry and safe place to live. Enough food on the table. Love. A chance to worship as we believe is right.  We are all so much the same. And yet so wonderfully different.

It really doesn't matter whether we put on a hijab or a tallit or a robe...and when it comes down to it, it doesn't matter how we address the Creator, whether in words or song or one name or another.  Our paths are different, but the mountain top is the same one.  We have just been placed on different roads to get there.

Today, on this anniversary of an act of hate, carried out by a few individuals, let's spend time remembering that we all...

Cry
Laugh
Sing
Smile
Grow
Love

If someone else's customs seem strange, ask questions.  If their words sound foreign to your ear, listen with your heart.  If they look different, ignore their clothes or their skin colour and look at their eyes. You'll recognize the kinship there.

And the next time you're tempted to say "They all..." about another religion -- or you feel that it might be better to remain silent when someone else heads that way -- remember that it's your sister or your brother who is being hated. And speak up, in love, for peace, for every member of our human family.

A joyous and peaceful September 11th Pink Saturday to you all.

Happy 5771!

I've been offline for a couple of days because of the flu and the holiday. It is Rosh Hashanah, so we spent yesterday in Temple at services, and then at my MIL's house last night for a delicious holiday dinner.

For those of you not familiar with the Jewish High Holidays, it shares some aspects with the secular New Year, in that we focus on doing better in the year to come. But it also has things that don't exist in the secular version.

We focus on forgiveness. On asking for it, and for giving it. And those requests are made to the people we may have hurt or offended in the past year. Sure, we ask G-d for mercy, but we have to deal with the people first. Otherwise, it's just taking the easy way out. And that doesn't count.

We also have a tradition that says that between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur (which is a week from tomorrow), G-d writes our fate for the upcoming year -- who will live and die, who will succeed and fail, and such.

But there is a very Buddhist concept, tied up in the traditional Jewish message, that I am just learning. While we cannot change the heavenly decree, we can and are instructed to work on ourselves, through prayer and charity and learning, so that we can react better to the problems we may face (or even the blessings we may encounter.) It's so similar to the Buddhist idea that while suffering is an inevitable part of life, how we deal with the suffering either adds to or reduces the pain we feel. We have a choice.

I love it when I find yet another way that the great faiths of this world unite and intersect!

So to those who celebrate the High Holidays, and to those who do not, I want to share my wish for all of you. I hope that this year is....

A year of joy and prosperity....
A year of growth and learning....
A year of health....
A year of new opportunities to discover your path....
A year of gaining the skills and perspective to deal with the "downs" in life's ups and downs....
A year of exciting beginnings....
A year of satisfying endings...
A year to take at least one more step to knowing who you are...

Namaste. L'shana tova!

Hamsa - Five - Celebrating 5 months of marriage and my husband's birthday

Our hats on the hotel windowsill the morning after the wedding

 Today we are celebrating five months of marriage.  And at the same time, we are celebrating my husband's birthday -- there is also a 5 in his age.  And the date: 8/21/2010, if you add it up, 8+2+1+2+1=14, and 1+ 4 = 5 .

The coincidence occurred to me as I was thinking about the five months since our wedding day. And buying his birthday present. (It's amazing what runs through my mind when I'm standing in line! Sometimes I do calculus equations -- this time it was numerology. Oh well!)

Now, I am not a big fan of numerology, but that synchronicity caught my attention. Could it be just an accident?  It seems, even to the number skeptic (me!) that that is even more unlikely.

So I started thinking about the number five.  I wear a piece of Judaic/Islamic jewelry called a Hamsah.  It is a common religious symbol in the Middle East and North Africa, but in all of them, it represents protection and good fortune.  Some call it the Hand of Miriam, some call it the Hand of Fatima.  I've even heard it called the Hand of G-d.  But whatever the name, the symmetrical five finger-arrangement makes it distinctive.  In fact, the word "Hamsah" means five in Arabic.  So why is this symbol of five considered so powerful?

The Zohar, the classic work of Jewish mysticism and esoteric knowledge, has numerous mentions of powerful fives, including the five gates of salvation.  Kabbalist Rabbi Issac Luria wrote about the "... five souls, Nefesh ("Spirit"), Ru'ach ("Wind"), Neshamah ("Soul"), 
Chayah ("Life"), and Yechidah ("Singular"); the first of these being the lowest, and the last the highest. (Source: Etz Chayim)" .The Torah itself consists of Five Books of Moses. 

And Islamic practice is based upon Five Pillars.  Shahadah, a statement professing monotheism and accepting Muhammad as one of G-d's messengers. Salah, the daily prayer  which is made five times each day (another five.) Zakat, or charitable giving.  Sawm, or fasting, especially during the approximately 30 day period known as Ramadan.  And Hajj, which is a pilgrimage to Mecca.

There are also Five Precepts of the Buddha Gautama in the Theravada (mainly southeast and south Asia) and Mahayana (in China, Korea, and Japan) traditions. The Five Precepts are promises to abstain from killing, stealing, sexual misconduct, lying and intoxication.

I'm sure there are more, in other religions and cultures.  But the powerful presence of these major five, along with the fives in our life today feel like a great opportunity. I'm not sure how or what form it might take, but the message is too clear to ignore. 

For my husband on his birthday, and for the two of us on this five month anniversary, it's going to be a very special day. 

Happy Pink Saturday, everyone! 

Levels of awareness, levels of mindfulness

The next time you're about to bite into a big juicy apple, like the Granny Smith I have sitting next to my keyboard, stop for a minute or two and consider exactly how that apple got to you.

The first answer might be, I went to the grocery store and bought it. End of story.

But the fact is, it's not! In fact, it's only a tiny and incomplete picture out of the story.

Start from where you are. You bought the apple. But where did the apple come from, before it was on the shelf at your local Giant or Publix or Smiths or wherever you shop?  Someone had to put the apple on display.  Someone had to deliver the apples to the store.  Probably someone had to box up the apples -- for sure, someone had to pick them.

And then there's the farmer.  He or she tended the trees, maybe even planted them from the start.  They had to make sure the trees had everything they needed to grow. Their lives are devoted to growing food for other people to eat!  How cool is that?  And how often do we think about it?

And then there's G-d or nature or Mother Earth, whatever you call it, which provided the water and the soil and the seeds and the sunshine.  And the fact that this apple, and in fact, the entire apple tree, came from a tiny seed -- one just like the one in the apple in your hand.  A seed someone, somewhere did plant, to grow the tree, that grew your apple. And the incredibly, miraculous fact that in that tiny seed are all the instructions for growing a tree, including the leaves and the branches -- as well as everything needed to know how to produce an apple!  All of that in a SEED!  Think of the size of the computer memory that would be needed to handle that level of complexity!

Now to the apple, itself....

And look at the apple itself.  The color...mine is a lovely bright green, about the size of my palm. On the top, the last vestige of its connection to the tree that it came from -- much like an umbilical cord. From seed to tree to my hand. Connected.

I slice open the apple -- the sound is crunch and juicy, the smell of tart apple is all around me. I take a bite.  Sweet-tart.  Very juicy. Firm and crispy.

And here is where the concept in Judaism of a bracha (blessing) comes from.  It's also the core of Buddhist mindfulness. If we pay this kind of attention to an apple, and feel gratitude for all that went into the creation of and arrival of that apple in your hand, one cannot help but want to say a blessing.

Some people say formulaic blessings, one for each kind of food like fruits, dairy, etc.  But I think that runs the risk of making the blessing as rote as the eating often becomes. There are even little booklets of the "official" blessings (I have one) that contain endless lists of foods and the sanctioned blessing for each.

I would rather create my own.  Silently.  A heartfelt connection to the food I'm eating.  No, I do not do it at every meal, or heaven forbid, at every bite as a very over-zealous acquaintance once suggested.  But I do it often enough to keep myself aware that even the apple I bough an hour ago at the grocery store represents a long chain of events and choices before it reaches me. That mindfulness, and the wonder and gratitude that goes along with it, is my bracha.

The Moshiach is an old black woman

I was feeling kind of dispirited on my way to work today.  Nothing bad, just kind of ...blah. I am long, long overdue for some down time, and I think it's catching up with me.

As I waited at a corner to make a turn, I saw an older, dark-skinned woman waving her arms and shouting on the opposite corner.  I rolled my window down, turned off the stereo, and listened.  She was shouting with joy about G-d.  Just G-d.  Not any particular creed or version or approach.  And she was chiding people for not shouting with joy themselves.  In her heavy Haitian accent, and with arms flying, she shouted that people should not be saying "Hallelujah" with their faces in a frown, and their eyes looking down, arms hanging.  They should not be praying in muttered words and dour tones. They should be shouting to the skies and to the whole world, arms up and a big smile on their faces.  Dancing! Singing!  Sharing their happiness for the whole universe to see.

She's right! The reality of G-d should be joy!  How could it be otherwise when we have butterflies and new-born babies and fluffy white clouds in blue summer skies and autumn leaves and snowy winter sunrises? Why do we pray and sing and worship with a tone and a demeanor better suited to mourning than celebrating?

There is a concept in Judaism that someday, when G-d decides the time is right, a Moshiach will appear.  A person who will set the world right, lead us into a time of peace -- a return to the Garden.  Popular discussions around the idea concern whether "he" will be a military leader or a politician or a religious leader.

I would like to suggest a different idea...I think the Moshiah will be an old black woman, shouting for joy about G-d on a street corner.  She will, in her excitement and happiness and sheer delight in all that G-d is, be the one who can finally, finally, finally set us right.

So here is my song for this Shabbat...a traditional song, performed the way we should! With joy!!!

The rest of the story...

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote a blog post about what I've learned from my friends of many faiths. But I forgot to add something very important to that post...I never said what I've learned from my own religion.

Why the omission? Maybe because to me, the answers are obvious. They are a part of my very being. And maybe, just a little, it's because my focus is almost always on healing the separations and bridging the gaps that drive us apart on the basis of religion. Or maybe it's a fear that my words will come across as "We have this and you don't" -- and that's not what I believe.

Whatever the reason, I am happy to be where I am, and better-late-than-never, here is the rest of the story...

From being a Jew, and from my Jewish friends and family, I've learned:

Don't pay attention to the numbers or the odds. No matter how unlikely it may seem, or how the odds are stacked against you, if it really matters, anything is possible.

Asking questions matters. Anyone can accept a creed on blind faith or because someone in authority says it's so. But the real test is when you can take it all apart, and look at it 10 ways and still find that the core holds solid. And it's not only okay to ask questions, it's part of the plan.

The small stuff counts. Forget the common wisdom about not sweating the small stuff, because those details make ALL the difference. How you treat someone begging on the street, how you deal with receiving too much change at the drive-through window, or how you look at a rainbow or the food on your plate or the doorway of your house all come together to shape the big picture. Unless you pay attention to the tiny pieces of the mosaic, the big picture will never come together.

Even the big external practices can change without destroying what counts in the heart and soul. Ironically, the big things often matter less than the little ones. We lost the Temples, and all the practice and ritual that was centered there, and kept on going. We lost our collective home, and wandered the world, and kept on going. We lost our freedom, but kept the faith. We were imprisoned and killed by the millions, but kept on marrying and raising families, as a symbol of hope. We changed the role of women and radically rewrote the words we use to address G-d, and yet stayed the course where it really mattered.

Ethics matter. The more I study and learn, the more I see the teaching is less about ritual than it is about ethics. So mouthing the right words or showing up at the right time isn't nearly as important as caring for the earth and other people and being an example of good and upright behavior.

There are things beyond what we can see, write down, or categorize. There is, without a doubt, so much out there/in here/all around/in us/ that we cannot even conceive of. And that there is a reason G-d gave the Torah outdoors, because in nature we can see/feel things that can never happen in a closed room or a book.

And a new lesson... Something truly beyond words and beyond comprehension happens under the Chuppah. It's not just getting married...there is more happening there. And that opens up worlds of possibilities.

I know many of you have received these same lessons from your faith, from your family. I do not doubt that for one nano-second. But I wanted to share the lessons I've learned from my path -- and THAT is the rest of the story.

Be open to the questions, be wary of getting stuck in details

I just read an amazing post suggested by one of my Facebook friends.  Rabbi Yossi's article, Facing the light - behaalosecha is printing right now so I can think more about it tomorrow on Shabbat. This is not a "glance at it for a couple of minutes before I run out the door" post. So I want to do it justice.  But I also wanted to share it before Shabbat, in case anyone else wants to print it now and read it tomorrow.

I cannot summarize it yet...there is too much, but here are a few points that have my thoughts occupied...

Instead of searching for complete truth and revelation, people the world over revere small bits and pieces of truth and hold them sacred. This closes them off from discovery of truths that exist beyond their limited space. The strength of their attachments often prevents them from letting go of superfluous behaviors and beliefs that limit their connection to the larger universal order.

and

My grandfather told me that the main thing is the question, not the answer. Questions cause us to search in places where we may not have checked previously to find answers. This enables us to be open to what we may not have thought about or understood prior to searching. Easy “pat” answers pacify us and discourage us from searching further to find the truth.  

Don't just stop with those two...there is so much more.  Shabbat shalom :-)

Learning from the rest...

I've always believed that each religion on earth contains a bit of the truth of G-d's plan...and that no religion has it all. We are all on our paths, selected, I believe, by G-d, to meet our needs this time around. I am Jewish, so that is my path. I've explored other faiths, but I know I'm where I belong.

But because I see the value in all the paths, I've always been open to the lessons I find in other religions. I thought it might be nice to express my gratitude for some of the gifts I've gathered from other religions, other paths to the top of the mountain.






From my Muslim friends, I've learned that there is indeed enough to be grateful for in life to pray five times each and every day. And I've learned that it is possible to move through life gracefully and with focus and beauty doing the right things and helping those in need, even when half of the country is ignorant enough to label your religion a religion of terror.

From my Christian friends, I've learned the concept of faith in action. They've demonstrated to me that words don't count and showing up at a religious service doesn't count unless you're out doing something good for G-d's people the rest of the time. Through their service projects and outreach to the hungry and abused, I learned how to really BE a child of G-d, instead of just say I am.

From my Mormon friends, I've learned the way a family can be, can feel, can interact. The countless examples they've shown me of how to build a forever-family has profoundly influenced every aspect of my parenting. What I did not learn from my family of origin, I was given instead by the LDS families I came to know.

From my Buddhist friends, I've learned how to be quiet, how to be mindful, and how to experience the moment. I've discovered the profound value in sitting still and being alone with myself, free from distraction and sound and doing.

From my Hindu friends, I've been given the knowledge that G-d can take different forms for different people, different places and different times, and yet remain in unity and wholeness.

From my Quaker friends, I've been given the gift of centering down. Of finding that quiet space amid the noise, and of being free from the need to speak just for the sake of filling the silence. I've also learned that it is possible to be completely against war, and not defend that belief from those who would call it irrational or unrealistic. It just is.

For all of these, and for the countless times that a word, an idea, an image from your faith has touched me, and inspired my growth on my own path, I say now...thank you.

Words from the Talmud on Kindness

It seems that some of these get overlooked in the rush to construct or discern new rules or more details about daily activities. So I thought a little reminder might be in order for all of us.

Dreaming, dreaming, dreaming!!

Dreaming of traveling with someone special to places familiar and well loved like Key West and California, and places yet uncharted in my life so far (ok, in THIS lifetime) like Russia and Egypt and Samoa.

Dreaming of more days and evenings with friends like last week's trip into the waters off Key Largo, Teresa's birthday party, annual visits to friends in PA. (almost Ren Faire time again!),last night's dinner at Seasons 52, or the upcoming tubing trip in North Florida.

Dreaming of publishing books written and books yet to write.

Dreaming of love and family and holding hands (and hearts) for years and years to come.

Dreaming of sharing my Shabbas table with guests who have shared meals with me before, and those I have yet to meet.

Dreaming, dreaming, dreaming...on a rainy Florida morning.

(rain on grass image from Tingog.com)

Discovery

I think I'm a pretty observant person. And yet, I am wondering, because I have noticed a few things lately that it sure seems I should have noticed before. Like:

1) You can be a certain religion your whole life and not really know that religion at all. You can think you do, believe you do, say you do, but in reality, you are darn near clueless.

2) You can know someone for a long time, think you know them, and then one day look up and see them for the very first time. A friend, a family member, a neighbor. In an instant, they become someone new.

3) You can think you know what you like to do and do not like to do, and then one day you realize that you are doing and really, really enjoying a whole bunch of things that were previously on your "don't like to do" list.

This is my brain
This is my brain on awareness.

Pretty cool.

Contrast

After days of scorching dry heat and blindly bright sun, I woke up to steely grey skies this morning.

The palm tree fronds are sage tinted in this light, and the air is heavy with the rain that will soon follow. A welcome change.

The contrast is beautiful.

I slept only a few hours last night, but I slept well...happy. Content. A contrast to months earlier when the few hours sleep I got were punctuated with bad dreams and suddenly moments of panicked awakening.

And I realized that it is the change from one experience to another that's making the sweet moments so sweet. The contrast from sunshine to shade. From pain and despair to happiness and hope.

The Rabbi teaching my class recently explained that there are two kinds of miracles in the world. One, easy to recognize, is when G-d steps in and makes something big happen. An against-all-odds recovery, or an unexplainable moment where the inevitable is somehow pushed aside.

But then there are all the other miracles that we call daily life. A rainbow. Food growing in a field. A rainstorm. Things we could and do easily overlook as "just normal." The purpose of study, and of the brachas (blessings) is to make us aware of how all of life is actually a series of miracles. Since we learned that, I have been struck by the miraculous among the mundane.

Today I awoke to another aspect of that. The miracle of contrast. The gift of appreciation we receive when we move from sadness or fear to joy. And even more telling, how sometimes even the move from what looks brighter (sunshine) to an impending storm can be a cause for prayers of thanks.

The price of change

Since I've returned to my blog, I've been considering changing the back ground images. It's a simple thing to do...replace a line of code or two, and wallah, a new look. I could use different photos, or some of my art work.

But even with a minor change like this, there is a price. A certain loss of comfort, of familiarity. No, it's not anything earth shattering -- I am not paralyzed with fear. But there is a tinge of mourning when we let go of the familiar, whether it's a favourite pair of shoes or an outgrown bed...or a blog background. Admit it..you have held on to a worn out, but beloved shirt or pair of shoes or some other item even when a perfectly acceptable replacement (read, new) was readily available.

If we know that these little changes can affect us, why do we pretend that major changes are "no big deal?" Whether the change is positive like a new job or a graduation, or sad like the end of a loving relationship, we as a society want people to "get over it" or "get on with it" with lightening speed.

To look back wistfully is seen as a sign of weakness. The most famous story of this bias against taking one last look is Lot's wife. We all know the story..as the family was fleeing the evil of the city, she takes one last glance back at the place that was her home, and is turned to a pillar of salt. The Rabbis have explained her punishment in a variety of ways, from retribution for her past misdeeds to a result of her lack of complete faith in G-d's order to flee.

But there is another possible interpretation for her look backwards. Perhaps within that city were some good memories. Perhaps the birth of her children or their first tottering steps. A home she had cared for. Memories of her wedding day. So even as her feet carried her forward into the new, and hopefully better, she needed to take one last look. The pillar of salt? Instead of description of a punishment, maybe it was simply a way to vividly describe the tears that fall when we leave something behind for something new. For a moment, as we pause between the old and the new, we are literally frozen into our tears.

According to the Torah, she did not continue on her journey forward but remained as that salty pillar. So perhaps the lesson has two parts. One, that the act of looking back as we move on in life may, for a moment freeze our progress. The problem comes when we stay there, looking backwards, forgetting the journey.

So what does this all have to do with changing my blog background? The images on the screen as of today are a place I left behind three years plus ago. I think it's time stop looking back...time to face forward and move on.

The update...6 plus months in 6 lines

OK, here goes:

Went to PA twice, and went to Blog Potomac in D.C. area
Got active in Mosaic and spent lots of time outdoors
Started taking classes at Aish haTorah, keeping Shabbas and holidays
Had a major relationship end
Job expanded to cover lots more areas and I love it
Got a kitten, named her Sanura

When it's too painful to write

When you're not sure whether things you believed with all your heart and soul are true...

When the possibility of the things you always believed would be a part of your life might never happen...

When you've given your all to hope and to trying "one more time," only to have it fail yet again...

When you just can't think of anything except the things you had or thought you had, and can no longer imagine looking forward with real excitement for more than a day or two...

David sang out to G-d at times like these. I cannot even find the words for that.

Getting the Sabbath all wrong

I have friends from all kinds of religions who agree that the Sabbath is an amazing gift. A chance to escape from the daily grind and renew. In the Torah, Shabbat is mentioned twice:

In Exodus 20:11, after Fourth Commandment is first instituted, G-d explains, "because for six days, the L-rd made the heavens and the earth, the sea and all that is in them, and on the seventh day, he rested; therefore, the L-rd blessed the Sabbath day and sanctified it." By resting on the seventh day and sanctifying it, we remember and acknowledge that G-d is the creator of heaven and earth and all living things. We also emulate the divine example, by refraining from work on the seventh day, as G-d did. If G-d's work can be set aside for a day of rest, how can we believe that our own work is too important to set aside temporarily?

In Deuteronomy 5:15, while Moses reiterates the Ten Commandments, he notes the second thing that we must remember on Shabbat: "remember that you were a slave in the land of Egypt, and the L-rd, your G-d brought you forth from there with a mighty hand and with an outstretched arm; therefore the L-rd your G-d commanded you to observe the Sabbath day."

Because Shabbat rest was mentioned in connection with the building of the Temple, the Rabbis concluded that anything one would have to do to build a temple is forbidden on Shabbat. They came up with 39 tasks or chores, and from that list, a host of other prohibitions based on the assumption that anything even remotely like anything on that list is also forbidden. And that's where the problem starts.

In the world in which the Temple was constructed, and in the world in which the Rabbis first derived the list of forbidden tasks, life was hard and physical. There was no such thing as a weekend or a 5 day work week. Every act, from cooking to treating the sick to traveling required real physical labor, either from a person or an animal or both.

Now jump forward a few thousand years, or even a few hundred. We travel with no physical effort from us or animals. We light up a room or cook a meal with a flick of a switch...no wood to gather, fires to start, or massive pots to carry. We can cook in seconds on a paper towel, or illuminate our homes with a single remote.

We work, but by and large, our work is conducted in offices and cubicles. We are a sedentary society, much to the concern of bathroom scales and doctors. We have moved from a world where physical labor 7 days a week was the norm, to one in which many people are lucky if they get 20 minutes of exercise a week.

Our work is constrained by rules...what we wear, whether we may use a telephone or chat with a friend, where we sit, how long we have to eat, and when, if it all, we may go outside during the workday. We live by the clock, arriving at leaving based on times set by someone other than ourselves. Our work is the work of sitting, thinking and rules.

Blessed Shabbat! A gift from G-d to free us from our work for one day out of seven.

Except by following the rules detailed for a different place and time and lifestyle by Rabbis who could not have envisioned the slavery of the cubicle, or the lack of physical activity we now endure, we completely miss the point!

Rest, real rest, and a separation from the workday week requires that we use our bodies. Get out of the walls which enclose us and run and swim and dance and walk in nature. Do the things our daily slavery prohibits like painting, writing poetry, creating a scrapbook or making music. Traveling with our families to museums and parks and the ocean to experience that blessed gift of freedom Shabbat was meant to be.

Thanking G-d for our world, for our freedoms, for one chance in seven to break free from uncomfortable clothes and clocks and go out and experience the world created for us.

In this world so far from that of ancient Israel or 19th century Europe, we need a new and realistic definition of work...and rest. We need Shabbat, as we always have. We just need it for different reasons.

One hand loves, one hand hates

Last week, I went to a meeting of Jews, Muslims, Christians and others at the local Islamic Center. The attire ranged from hijabs and robes to tank tops and jeans. The youngest was, I think my daughter, age 10. The eldest was probably well into her 80's, maybe 90's. This group of about 100 or so people represented countries around the globe.

The one thing we shared? A desire to learn, to come together, to understand our neighbors and ourselves. To dispel the fear that comes from misinformation, stereotypes and media-fed hysteria.

For three hours, we sat there and talked. At the direction of the leader, each table was mixed to represent a good cross section of the religions and ethnicities present. Also at her direction, we discussed our backgrounds, our spiritual journey, our beliefs. We mulled over similarities and differences -- and found the similarities to be a MUCH longer list. We ate sweet pastries, and talked some more. At the end of the evening, each table sent a representative to the front to summarize what we had found.

It was a wonderful inspiring experience. And just the beginning. Our next meeting will be at a synagogue, where the learning and dialog will continue.

The very next day, I opened my e-mail to find a forward from my uncle. A former federal agent, now retired. It was a top to bottom diatribe of hatred against Muslims. A no-holds barred rage that "they" would dare to be in "our" country. He had not written it, but he had forwarded it. This particular uncle has forwarded hateful e-mails to me before and I have privately asked, each time, that I be left off his list. But he has not stopped.

Among my very religiously mixed family, this uncle happens to be Christian. Practicing. So I responded to him (and everyone on his sent-to list) with a message suggesting love and understanding as the only truly brave answer to such an e-mail. I then proposed that instead of forwarding messages of hatred, which of course only increases hatred and violence, perhaps he would consider forwarding a quote from the Christian Bible....

5:43-48

"Ye have heard that it hath been said, 'Thou shalt love thy neighbor, and hate thine enemy.' "But I say unto you, 'Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and them which despitefully use you, persecute you, that ye may be the children of your Father which is in heaven; for he maketh his sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the unjust.' For if ye love them which love you, what reward have ye? Do no even the publicans the same? And if ye salute your brethren only, what do ye more than others? Do not even the publicans so? Be ye therefore perfect, even as your Father which is in heaven is perfect."

That, I wrote, would be a true act of bravery in the face of hateful messages.

The response from my family was ANGER! My answer was labeled "uncalled for" and "inappropriate" They were enraged at me. I was told to "Read a little about the Koran....and don't live in a shell."

I am saddened. Stunned. The contrast between the meeting and the message is too great.

I cannot remain silent in the face of hatred and distorted half-truths. But must I lose my family to stand up for what I know to be right? Does anyone have a suggestion?