the closest i'll come

On Friday I put my Maddy girl in the kennel. This left me free and clear to accomplish all the tasks I’d been meaning to do while trying to keep her from peeing all over my things. Thursday we spent the day together at the laundry mat around the corner washing my down comforter in bleach because Maddy had thought it was a patch of grass when I loosened up her crate training and let her sleep with me one night. So Friday’s freedom felt like a tether had been untied and even though I missed her I like walking around my house without the constant ear listening to her chewing station. I also planned to make this my religious night because the weekend would be spent traveling to the California sunshine. So, I went home and began unwinding a little, just enjoying being able to watch a full TV show and then I promptly… fell asleep. For 3 hours. It turns out that Maddy’s 6am wake-ups were doing a number on me. When I woke up I felt like something akin to being smashed by a Mac truck. Needless to say my sleep had me skipping some religious services. There was a new Buddhist meeting I was thinking of trying and then there was always the idea of the Friday night Jewish Shabbat. And that’s what I had settled into, that I would be Jewish for the night.

The post nap plan was to clean the kitchen, eat dinner and run out to services. So I got busy with this plan and at 6:28 pm I checked the website of Beth Ahaba and saw that summer services began at 6:30. New plan. I searched the web for a reform Jewish synagogue and stumbled upon Or Ami which held it’s services at 7:30 no matter the time of year. Hotdog! I did some packing, got gussied up in a new sized dress, google mapped the place and out the door I went.

First impression, “What have I entered into?” Second impression, “Home.”

The Rabbi called everyone to get settled. A potluck dinner had just happened which I didn’t attend and the congregation was milling about the same room where the dinner had occurred. This was a multi-purpose room, kind of a one room school house for G-d. The chairs had just been put into rows, some of them anyway, and I new I liked this place when the Rabbi said, “I don’t really like rows, but we have a Bar Mitzvah tomorrow. So, come, sit.” The hip new age building with it’s exposed venting and lighting systems, large wall of windows and sculpted clap chandelier at the altar seemed so relaxed and chill, like G-d was really talked about here not just ritual.

The Rabbi spoke about the upcoming Father’s Day and while he talked and we sang in Hebrew and English, the congregation spoke back. He called on young students to read some of the prayers. He invited discussions, short interjections really, but this was more of a conversation than a preaching and I liked it. The idea he passed along was one of modeling, that to be a true Jew was to model your life in Judaism so that your children would emulate it.

It’s a simple concept and a fairly easy construct when you consider it, yet it’s something we struggle with as a society, to practice what we preach. In the schools I work in I see a great number of children who come to school with little experience with books. It’s not surprising that these children also tend to pick up reading at a slower rate and therefore teaching is geared to meet those needs. There is less time for the exploration of text and literature and more expectations for the practice and rote aspect of learning to read our language. And there is plenty of research to show these facts. It’s something I mourn for these children. I try to encourage and help put in place a system where the teachers I work with have the children read freely at least once a week and while the children read, so does the teacher. I knew a teacher once who actively and daily did this with her second graders. She read biographies or histories and when children questioned her about her choice of books there, right there started a conversation about something they might never have touched. So, I truly believe what this Rabbi was informing his congregation to do.

My parents have, and still do, taunt the scripture that calls you to honor your father and mother. I think the Rabbi could have a lively discussion on this one too, but I like that he started with the chicken on this Father’s Day. He put the priority where it belongs. He didn’t call the children to rise up and lavish dad with gifts, he called the Father’s to rise up and be what they wish their children to be. Oy! And a little, Ouch! I have no children and quite possibly, through choice, never will, but I encounter children everyday and I love every minute of it. I expect kindness from them and while I know I falter like anyone else, I hope I give them kindness along with structure and example, good examples of how to read in life and in situations and the goodness in people and to just be happy. Maddy is the closest I’ll come to parenting and she teaches me everyday to be patient, the learn from her and to give her what I expect from her: boundaries, attention, respect and joy, a lot, a lot of joy.

In my Meditation group we talk a lot about being the calm one and letting the peace begin at least with you. It’s the same as leading by example, practicing what you preach, do as I do, etc… Searching for spirituality outside of Jesus is not the type of honoring my dad would have signed up for, but he was the calm one. He let’s things slide off until or unless it really matters. Sometimes his quietness is unsettling, but maybe it’s just his way of being with what is and not fighting the moment. His example may have actually led to this little quest of mine. He may be saying, “Oh, noooooo!!!!!!” as he reads this, but what if we just practice and live happiness and goodness? What if we just expect absolute goodness from others? Is that what will stem from us and come back to us? At this moment, I think so.



Happy Pops Day, Dad!