Showing posts with label judasim. Show all posts
Showing posts with label judasim. Show all posts

Thursday, 15 July 2010

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.

Wednesday, 12 August 2009

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.

Monday, 21 April 2008

So where does a non-Christian minister belong?

I am a Jew.

I am seriously drawn to Islam.

And I am an ordained non-denominational minister.

Who wants to be a minister. In practice.

No, let me correct that, not "who wants". Who feels incredibly drawn towards being a minister. I identify completely with the books I read about people who have felt and acted upon that kind of calling. I am fascinated in conversation with clerics of all faiths. I am drawn, irresistibly to the preaching, visiting the sick, performing life cycle events. Serving G-d in a very specific way.

But I have no interest in Christianity. Just G-d. The ONE.

So where do I go with this?

A spiritual conundrum...

Monday, 21 May 2007

Telling the truth when it really hurts

When did the admonishment against killing become passe'? Almost every religion on the planet has an injunction against killing. Some make exceptions for essential and limited self-defense (Islam, Judaism), others do not (Christianity, Buddhism.)

But it seems that in our modern world, it's open season on human lives. And what's worse, it's considered bad form to point it out. The reactions range from cold stares to indignant defenses in which G-d's real intent is pulled from who knows where to justify whatever war or attack is going on. Apparently pointing out the facts, the scriptures, the bits where G-d says Don't kill each. Period. is an affront to their religiosity.

It's the same way with the so-called patriotism in this country. Pointing out the (gasp!) evil acts being carried out by this country is considered bad form indeed. I was just reading a post by Becky on Preemptive Karma about this phenomenon. About all the people who, despite all the lies about Iraq and the war that have come to light, still believe that it is somehow wrong to speak out against things the U.S. is doing or has done. Unpatriotic. Subversive. To tell the truth. To not go along with the media spin or the President's agenda. Huh??

I understand the concept of relativism -- the idea of evaluating actions in the light of changing conditions. And sometimes it's necessary as our world changes. For the little things.

But for the big stuff..like killing 1000's of innocent people or declaring self-serving wars, the rules still hold. Even when it hurts to finally tell the truth.

Thursday, 22 February 2007

When it's time to let go and move on


The concept of bersheit or bashert, soulmates, is basic to Judaism. To find the one G-d has selected for you is the ultimate assurance of a love and compatibility. After all, G-d doesn't make mistakes.

Unfortunately, we mere mortals sometimes do. We fall in love, sometimes for reasons we can name, and sometimes without a single reason we know of. We find the partner of our dreams, and they return the feeling. And all is well with the world. We have found our true love.

But then sometimes, for reasons we may never understand, that perfect union is shattered. It may be financial hardship, a job in a distant city far from the beloved, a devastating illness, an accident, or a heartwrenching betrayal. And suddenly the entire future we expected shifts out from under us and crumbles into a dust too fine to ever be reassembled. We struggle to stay on our feet, to find something to grab onto. Clearly, it would be a good time to seek more stable ground.

The problem is, many of us don't. Or perhaps can't. We stay where we are, clinging to swaying branches and trying to regain our footing in the sand, certain that if we just find a way to stay still and look around, we'll discover a way to rebuild our lives as they once seemed to be, and all will be well.

So how to do we know when it's time to take those first hesitant steps away, and when the earthquake is only temporary? How do we separate the tests from the end? And if we move, how do we ever find the courage to let go and stand beside someone again without tethering ourselves to the nearest escape route? After the big earthquake, is it possible to love without a safety net?