“A Mask To Cover A Monster”

by Rabbi Wendy Spears

This is a quote from Juan Perez to a reporter after 3 kidnap victims were rescued in his Cleveland neighborhood. Perez was talking about Ariel Castro, who owns a house 2 doors down from Mr. Perez and often chatted to him at neighborhood parties. Surface friendliness. No one actually knew the man who kidnapped 3 women and kept them imprisoned in his house for 10 years.

Do we really know our neighbors? I can tell you that of my 5 neighbors, I know one well enough to call her a friend. The others I know by name, but I don’t really know them. This is not for lack of effort on my part. The folks across the street have come over for dinner, but they’ve never reciprocated. I’ve invited the others for coffee and cookies, but they consistently turned me down or canceled at the last minute. I’ve never been in their houses. It’s not in my nature to be suspicious of people, but because I don’t truly know my other neighbors I can’t vouch for their goodness. The street where I live is not a community. I don’t know the others who live on this street at all, not even by name. I wouldn’t recognize them at the supermarket or the gas station. Most of them are at work all day and don’t come home until well after dark. They don’t seem to be home on the weekends, either. I suspect that their houses are really just places to store their stuff. So, if there was a monster on my block, I wouldn’t know it.

I don’t know if this situation is the same for others in different cities around the country. In each neighborhood where I’ve lived over the years in various cities – Los Angeles, Cincinnati, Jerusalem, Sydney – people kept mostly to themselves. In contrast to this, I try to live the truth of two mitzvot (Jewish ways of doing and being) that I value most in Judaism: community and hospitality. I not only enjoy connecting with others to create and maintain community, I feel a responsibility to do this.

We learn one of these mitzvot right at the beginning of the book of Genesis – “It’s not good for a person to be alone.” Later in Genesis, when Abraham sees strangers walking toward his tent, he and his wife Sarah rush around to prepare a warm welcome for them which includes a meal and a foot bath. In my own life, I enjoy hosting holiday celebrations and informal gatherings for family and friends. There’s always good food and good conversation as we deepen our connection to each other. I model these values for my children and see how much the enrich my life.

In this time of Facebook and the other social media venues, it seems like people are connecting with each other. And yet, consistent reports show that they are lonelier than ever before. It takes effort and planning to be in relationships with others. It doesn’t just come automatically. I have friends and family members who are happy to be invited to an event or activity, but don’t return the favor. I have acquaintances who aren’t friends because they put very little effort into their relationship with me. It seems like they are often waiting for a ‘better’ offer when they say, “I don’t know yet what is happening on that day; I’ll need to get back to you.” I don’t think this really has anything to do with me. The people in my life who are willing to be in relationship make the time to do so because they value relationships. They’re not too busy or looking for some other activity. I find that we share other values besides being connected with and hospitable to each other. Being in relationship allows us to reveal our values and deeper selves to each other. This is a risk, but also a tremendous blessing. By opening ourselves to others, we can perceive the divine spark that dwells in our hearts, and welcome God’s presence into our lives. 

Rabbi Wendy Spears is a community rabbi in Los Angeles. Find her at http://www.rabbiwendy.com.

Mourning and Money

by Rabbi Wendy Spears

There is the old adage everyone has heard: “You can’t take it with you.” This means, of course, that when we die and make our journey to Olam HaBa (the next world or afterlife), our leftover possessions and money stays in this world for our descendants, friends, or charities. In my 22 years as a rabbi, I’ve never seen a U-Haul truck following after the funeral coach.

Money left in a will is often perceived as an indication of love. For example, if my parents love my brother and me equally, their assets will be divided between us equally. The expectation in families is that if there are assets from the deceased person, those assets will be distributed equitably among the surviving family members who were all loved equally well. When this is not the case, the mourning for the deceased person is interrupted and relationships amongst the family are usually damaged, sometimes beyond repair.

Unfortunately over the past few years, I’ve seen many love relationships damaged by the insensitive handling of money matters, especially when dealing with inheritances that are inequitable. More times than I’d like to remember, money often takes precedence over relationships.

When parents make an inequitable distribution of their estate, it sends a message beyond the grave that they valued one child over another. The hurt that leaves behind cannot be easily healed. The person who took that action is gone from this world. The child might be able to forgive, but oftentimes they can’t. A second aspect involves the surviving family members, and the hurt that has been injected amongst them. The survivors didn’t cause the mess, but they are left to clean it up. The questions remain: do they clean it up and how do they do it? In my own family, I actually have a happy memory about how an inheritance was made equitable.

When my maternal great-grandparents Izzy and Toby were ready to retire, they sold their bakery business in New York and moved to California to be closer to Georgie and Larry, two of their three sons. Their eldest son, my grandfather Georgie, died 15 years later, predeceasing them by four years. When that happened, my grandmother Ruthie, their daughter-in-law, assumed caring for Izzy and Toby – visiting, preparing meals, looking after their accounts, accompanying them to medical appointments – as Georgie would have wanted. She was the best and most loving daughter Izzy and Toby could ever have wished for. She was present in their lives in meaningful ways, even while their youngest son Larry was not, although he lived in a nearby city. Izzy and Toby used to brag to their friends about how great Ruthie was to take such good care of them.

Unbeknownst to Ruthie or her two brothers-in-law Lenny and Larry, their parents changed their will and estate plan after Georgie’s death in favor of their surviving sons so that Lenny and Larry would divide Izzy’s and Toby’s estate equally between the two of them. This served to disinherit Georgie’s family from the estate. When the will was read, Ruthie was understandably shocked and hurt.

Fortunately for her, Lenny loved and respected Ruthie enough to convince Larry that what Izzy and Toby had done was wrong. After a bit of haggling, the brothers agreed that the estate should be divided in three equal portions rather than two so that my grandmother Ruthie received her husband Georgie’s portion.

Saying, “this was grandma’s wish,” when a “favored child” has the power to correct things is a telling moment. This can divide families for generations, or it can be a powerfully positive story of real family values – family unity is more important than money. “I won’t let grandma drive us apart. She did something wrong, but I have the power to correct it.”

Money is a powerful symbol of love and regard. It is ultimately the responsibility of the person who has inherited the largest share of the estate to protect his/her relationship with other members of the family by making the inheritance equitable. The responsibility to living family members and caring for those ongoing relationships must be held more dear than the extra share of an inheritance. Whether it was the wish of the deceased or not, love and care for one another needs to come before money. If the money becomes more important than the love, the relationships are often damaged for years, if not forever.

Rabbi Wendy Spears is a community rabbi in Los Angeles. Find her at http://www.rabbiwendy.com or like her page on Facebook at Interfaith Wedding Rabbi – Rabbi Wendy Spears.

 

To Life – L’Hayim!

by Rabbi Wendy Spears

I went wine tasting last night and tried 9 different Argentinian wines. Mostly made from Malbec and Cabernet Sauvignon grapes, they are a rich dark reddish purple in color, with a fruity nose, and heavy feel on the tongue. They would pair well with steak or a robust tomato sauce with oregano and garlic. I didn’t like them much, but I’m not a fan of heavy wines. It was an interesting, educational experience. My preference is for fruity, light wines, white or red, like Pinot Grigio, Gewurtztraminer, Sauvignon Blanc, Riesling, Pinot Noir, and Sangiovese. I also really love late harvest dessert wines.

I wasn’t always a wine drinker. I used to say I didn’t like wine. Now I know it’s that I don’t like bad wine. But wine wasn’t a significant part of my life until I went to rabbinical school and started celebrating home Shabbat dinners with my classmates. I don’t remember my parents drinking wine while I was growing up, although there was always wine on Friday nights at the synagogue which we attended. My maternal grandparents served wine during the annual Passover seder, where my brother walked around the table after the adults left it and drank the dregs in all the cups.

I wasn’t really all that surprised that my brother eventually became an alcoholic. He had the example of our grandfather and great-aunt, who were the quintessential lives-of-the-party at every big family gathering. I remember that at my cousin’s bar mitzvah, my grandfather got roaring drunk, stripped down to his underwear, and rode a tricycle around the dance floor. I was very embarrassed, to say the least. My grandfather was a functional alcoholic, meaning that he was able to go to work every day. He had a couple of drinks when he got home from work. He got into several traffic accidents when he drove drunk. Since my grandmother didn’t drive, this was a danger to her as well. I always wondered about that, although no one in the family ever addressed the drinking. Maybe it was because he was so happy and gregarious when he was drunk.

While I was in college, I attended Al-Anon meetings from time to time, to deal with my anger over my brother’s alcoholism. I learned there that you cannot control another person, you can only control yourself. As someone who was called to help people, I found this a very difficult lesson to learn. Working the 12 Steps http://www.silkworth.net/aa/12steps.html helped me move through my anger at my family members’ behavior, to understand them a bit better, to have compassion, and hold on to the love I experienced with them. This was very much like preparing for tshuva, the process of reflection and forgiveness that Jews do in preparation for the High Holy Days of Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur. It doesn’t mean I thought the alcoholism was okay, but that I was able to step back and observe rather than getting caught up in the drama and trauma of their behavior. I don’t feel the pull of the alcohol in the same way they do, so I can drink a glass of wine and be finished there. And as one of the characters who was an alcoholic on the t.v. show The West Wing once said, “I don’t understand how anyone can drink and not want to get drunk.” The barrier of perception is very real.

In Judaism, on certain holidays and on Shabbat, Jews observe the mitzvah (a Jewish way of doing and being) of drinking wine. Folks who are susceptible to addiction could see this as permission to get drunk, and often do. Traditionally, wine is viewed as a blessing created in partnership with God as an artful act; God brings the sun, rain, and soil, while we humans plant and tend the grapes, harvest them, and artfully make the juice into wine. We learn also that it is a Jewish way to walk the mindful middle path, to be enlivened by our food and drink, by the physical, but not to lose ourselves on the path by abusing these life-giving substances. This can be a difficult dance to learn, a confusing path to navigate. The learning, though, is made easier by the love and support of family, friends, and community. That kind of love and support helped me when I needed it.

Passover arrives on the evening of March 25 this year. I will serve wine at my table, where many of my family and friends will drink four cups of it. It will be wine that my husband and I find delicious. There will also be a variety of grape juices on my table, to bring joy to my family and friends who don’t drink alcohol. We will toast each other by saying, “L’Hayim – To Life!” It will be a lively feast, with good food and good conversation. I hope everyone enjoys and enlivens one another.

Rabbi Wendy Spears is a community rabbi in Los Angeles. Find her at http://www.rabbiwendy.com.

Who Are You Really?

by Rabbi Wendy Spears

So Purim is coming in a couple of weeks, the Jewish festival of frivolity, masquerade, and cookies. Everything is turned on its head and it’s time to have some fun. The Purim story is a nearly classic melodrama with the characters of the villain, the foolish old man, the hero, and the heroine.

Much of the suspense of the story surrounds the heroine, Queen Esther. She hides her true identity as a Jew and ‘passes’ as a Persian in order to marry King Ahasuerus. At the critical point in the story, Esther reveals that she is a Jew in order to save her people from destruction.

This year, I’m doing some free-wheeling thinking about what is hidden and what is revealed. For so many reasons, we often hide our true selves behind a mask of what is acceptable. Perhaps we are expected to play a particular role in our families – the good daughter, the black sheep, the devoted mother, the loving wife, the wise older sister, and so on. Perhaps there are expectations in our jobs that we are paid to fulfill. We may be very invested in playing a role, especially if that role represents safety, sustenance, love. Society has expectations of ‘proper’ behavior and demeanor; so do our families, friends, and colleagues.

Living true to ourselves, reflecting on the outside what is on the inside, is a risk. For Queen Esther, that risk was death. For us today, it can feel like that, too. Sometimes taking the risk and showing our true selves means we have to go it alone. Other times, it means fulfillment and new challenges.

My vision of the future is not yet clear, but I see that the current paradigm of Jewish life is shifting. 30 years ago, when I decided to become a rabbi, I was pretty sure I knew what that meant. Now I’m no longer sure, especially after reading this article http://m.forward.com/articles/170659/the-st-century-rabbi.  It’s time to be strong, even if we feel weak. It’s time to be courageous, even though we feel afraid. It’s time to love ourselves enough, both personally and communally to come out, to come clean, to claim our power anew. I’m not sure yet where this is all going, but I’m sure that showing the world who I am makes the world a better place and makes me more open to the possibilities that are out there.

Rabbi Wendy Spears is a community rabbi in Los Angeles. Find her at http://www.rabbiwendy.com

All One People?

by Rabbi Wendy Spears

After his re-election to the presidency Tuesday evening, President Barack Obama said that we are not just red states and blue states but that we are the United States of America. He asked for greater cooperation amongst the two major parties for the good of the American people.

This sparked my thoughts again about pluralism and partisanship. The lead-up to this election seemed much more divisive than any previous campaign. Folks seem much more attached to defending their position than they have before. But I am not convinced that most of America is so polarized. I think there are many more people who are in the moderate middle than is expressed in the media.

I’m not sure where the moderate middle is in Judaism. We, also, seem to have become more polarized as a people just as Americans were portrayed during this election season. I’ve been finding it difficult to feel that we are all one Jewish people when Anat Hoffman is arrested and detained by police during an Hadassah celebration at the Western Wall of the Temple Mount in Jerusalem. David Siegel, Israel’s Consul General in Los Angeles, says that the Anat Hoffman incident is a blip; that actually, pluralism is increasing in Israel at a slow and steady rate.

When I see Hasidic and other Orthodox Jewish women covered head to toe (wig or scarf, long sleeves, stockings, long skirts) and Hasidic men in fur-trimmed hats even in the high heat and humidity of summer, these don’t seem like my people.

 

The photo above is of a fenced community of ultra-Orthodox Jews in Swan Lake, New York. My mother spent 10 summers of her childhood at her grandparents’ home in Swan Lake in the Catskill Mountains. I wanted to see this place, because I’d heard so many stories. The only Jews and synagogues I saw were ultra-Orthodox. These don’t seem like my people.

My teen children spent 3 weeks this past summer at a socialist Zionist youth camp in the Catskills (hence my mini tour of Swan Lake) near Liberty, New York. Other than what my teens brought to the programming, there was very little Judaica present. While the camp was filled with Jews (many of whom spoke Hebrew), it seemed like Judaism and Jewish culture were mostly absent. Are we still Jews without Judaism? I question whether these are my people, too.

Sometimes I feel that Orthodox and Liberal Jews have become like the Catholics and the Protestants. We started at the same place, with the same practices and beliefs, but we’ve diverged tremendously.

Many of my clients in my interfaith outreach work are on the fringes of the Jewish community. They have very little Jewish education, but they are spiritually searching. It is my honor to learn from them and to teach them as they prepare life cycle ceremonies for themselves, their families, and friends. My goal is to present Judaism in the most compelling, interesting, entertaining, and meaningful way so that they will want to be members of the Jewish community. I want them to be my people. (The photo below is of my colleague Rabbi Julia Weisz officiating at a wedding for 2 of my students.)

So, I’m searching for my people. I used to know that Reform Jews were my people. We stood for social justice, for being a light unto the nations, for making the world a better place for everyone. We weren’t so interested in mouthing prayers or doing meaningless rituals. We wanted ritual and spirituality with meaning, prayers that spoke to us in our language as a community in God’s image, good works in the world. I’m not sure this is the Reform movement today. We are in transition as a movement, in the midst of a paradigm shift that currently seems leaderless.

I’m still searching for my people.

Rabbi Wendy Spears is a community rabbi in Los Angeles, specializing in interfaith weddings and outreach.

Walking the Streets of History, Nearly Jew-Free

by Rabbi Wendy Spears

I had the privilege in August 2012 to take a long overdue family vacation. We travelled to Spain, visiting the cities of Madrid, Segovia, and Toledo. Considering the impoverished economy of Spain right now, there is an awareness that tourist monies are still coming in; they take really good care of their historical sites and museums. The high traffic sites are friendly to English speakers with curation cards in English at the museums, English-language restaurant menus, and tour guides who speak English. I highly recommend you visit.

It was very odd for me and my family to be in a place where there were hardly any Jews. I’ve never seen so many hams for sale; most of them come with the leg bone and hoof attached! The photo shows how enormous they are – bigger than my teen son’s head! My understanding is that there is a modern Jewish community in Barcelona, but not in Madrid, Segovia, or Toledo. In both Segovia and Toledo, there are places where Jews are remembered with various plaques and street signs.

We visited the Transito Synagogue in Toledo. The building served for many years after 1492 as a convent. It was destroyed by fire numerous times over the centuries (Spain seems to have had a problem with this; many places we went, not just Jewish sites, indicated they were rebuilt after fire destruction.) It is currently a small museum with a restored Jewish sanctuary. While it attempts to give a concise and comprehensive history of Jews and Judaism, it was clear to me that whoever curated the collection didn’t really have any direct experience with how Jews still exist in the world today. I was very uncomfortable, and certainly felt out of place.

In Segovia, a portion of the home of Abraham Shnei-Or (this is how the Hebrew reads; the English and Spanish say Senior) is preserved as a 2-room museum and gift shop. Shnei-Or was a friend and advisor to King Ferdinand, that same Ferdinand who helped to fund the voyage of Christopher Columbus (this being Columbus Day, I thought this post fits quite well). Shnei-Or attempted to convince Ferdinand to rescind the decree expelling Jews from Spain. The decree was written within days of the fall of Granada, last safe haven of Spanish Jews – a battle which Shnei-Or helped to fund for Ferdinand. As we know from history, Shnei-Or was unsuccessful. He remained in Spain, converting to Catholicism. He died in 1493. The museum reveals only a little of this tragic period in Spanish Jewish history; rather, it explains a few Jewish holidays and customs and shows a model of a synagogue.

So, it’s pretty weird to be a Jewish person in a place that views Jews and Judaism as a people and culture from far back in history. Jews came to Spain with the Romans, around the time that the second Temple was destroyed in Jerusalem – a span of nearly 1500 years. The country and landscape of Spain was a part of them and they were an integral part of it.

I doubt that many of the people we met in Spain had ever seen a Jew in real life. This man seemed puzzled to even see a tourist with a camera (Men and women alike carry large messenger bags and totes; they don’t seem worried about pick-pockets). It was worthwhile being there, walking the streets and seeing the views that Jews had seen prior to 1492. But it also felt weighty and sad, as if the walls and cobblestones were infused with the tears of Jews being forced to leave their country or become Catholics in order to remain. I really didn’t like feeling like an anachronism. I imagine there are many places in Europe where I would feel similarly.

So, as I remember Christopher Columbus today, I think how the expulsion of the Jews from Spain served to disperse Jews and Judaism to more places in the world. I think some good came from this disaster, but I wish it hadn’t happened. With all its historical wealth, I think Spain is poorer without Jews.

Rabbi Wendy Spears is a community rabbi in Los Angeles. Find her at http://www.rabbiwendy.com

The Jewish Answer to Crab Cakes

by Rabbi Wendy Spears

photo by Randy Mayor

The great humorist, gifted novelist and playwright, accomplished director and screenwriter, and fabulous cook Nora Ephron died June 26 this year. There have been a number of tributes for her over the course of the week; I’ve been particularly struck by how everyone mentioned food in relation to her. Two of her books – Crazy Salad and Heart Burn – include recipes. She also wrote her own, personal cookbook to share with her family and friends with titles like “Joan Didion’s Chicken Thing.”

Food is such an integral part of Jewish life, that Jewish flavor seems to have seeped into American culture. My favorite food writers and commentators are all Jews: Evan Kleiman of KCRW’s “Good Food” and Angeli Caffé; Ruth Reichl, author of Tender at the Bone, Comfort Me With Apples, and Garlic and Sapphires, and former editor of Gourmet magazine; and Jonathan Gold, Pulitzer Prize-winning writer at the Los Angeles Times. I adore delicious food and could talk about food all day long.

Many of my clients, friends, and family members no longer follow kashrut, the Jewish dietary laws that prohibit the eating of shellfish and pork, and mandate the separation of dairy and meat during a meal or when making a dish. I am not among the non-observers since I continue to keep kosher, even though it’s not currently fashionable. For much of the history of the Reform movement in Judaism, we didn’t keep kosher. Yet, I find much cultural and spiritual significance in this practice. It makes me aware of my food choices and of being part of a tradition that dates back to Biblical times. Check out my colleague Rabbi Mary Zamore’s book on kashrut, The Sacred Table, for a comprehensive and diverse exploration of this topic in the current climate of observance.

One of my favorite Jewish food stories comes from my grandmother Ruth, whom I called ‘Gram.’ Gram kept a kosher home, and her daughter/my mother, frequently made salmon croquettes as part of the dinner rotation of meals. I once asked Gram where these delicious fish cakes came from, since none of my Christian friends had ever heard of them. She told me that they were the kosher adaptation of crab cakes, which were popular all along the Eastern Seaboard when she was growing up in the 1920s. Now, I don’t know that this is actual fact, but I’d like to think it is. Jews who have kept kosher have often adapted non-kosher foods of their surrounding non-Jewish culture to their taste and observance. I think liquid Coffee Mate is the best non-dairy creamer to use as a milk substitute in sauces, soups, and coffee drinks (I ignore the ingredient list on the bottle – too scary). I’m curious for my family to try turkey bacon and goose prosciutto. I LOVE salmon croquettes.

Salmon Croquettes (Rabbi Wendy’s family recipe)

12 – 14 oz. leftover cooked salmon OR 15 oz. canned salmon (pick out bones and skin)

2 Tablespoons each of chopped fresh parsley and fresh dill (or 1 Tablespoon lemon zest)

1 small onion, grated finely (about 1/4 cup)

1/2 teaspoon baking powder

salt to taste

2 eggs, beaten with 1 Tablespoon water

matza meal for binding the mixture oil for frying

1. Gently combine salmon, herbs, onion, baking powder, and salt in a medium-sized mixing bowl.

2. Add egg mixture and stir gently to combine. Sprinkle in matza meal to bind the mixture, a tablespoon at a time, until the mixture is firm enough to form into patties.

3. Heat oil over medium heat in a 12-inch non-stick frying pan until shimmering. Oil should be at a depth of one-inch in the pan. If the oil is hot, the croquettes won’t absorb a lot of the oil. Heat oven to 300ºF.

4. Scoop 1/3 cup portions of salmon mixture onto a cookie sheet lined with parchment paper or non-stick foil. Form the portions into patties and coat them lightly with matza meal.

5. Fry croquettes in hot oil until they are golden brown, about 2 to 3 minutes each side.  Drain on paper towels or brown paper bags. Keep warm on a cookie sheet in the oven until ready to serve.

6. These salmon croquettes go well with a leafy salad for dinner along with some good bread, or as a sandwich with lettuce and tomato for lunch.

Rabbi Wendy Spears is a community rabbi in Los Angeles. Find her at http://www.rabbiwendy.com