I read a moving piece of writing today by an old friend, Amichai Lau Lavie. He is an interesting guy, and some of you may have encountered his “Storahtelling” in your communities. We used to work together, briefly, many moons ago. I thought he was eccentric then, and I think so now. But I also had tremendous respect for his mind and talents and his use of them both – and I still do. I am grateful once again to facebook for being able to rediscover and reconnect with people like Amichai.
This is what he wrote today:
Baby Carrots
This has sort of nothing to do with the weekend but it did ignite my thinking about how the much needed change in our community can happen. Before I go to sleep that night at the Hampton Inn I surf channels and land on a food channel program that tells the history of baby carrots. Who knew (or cared)? Only twenty years ago or so some big carrot farmer in California realized that so much of his produce was not fit for market because of size and such and figured out a way to make the problem into a profit: baby carrots, made from the useless excess non sellable carrots. Crisis became opportunity. The farmers’ grandson now rules over a multimillion empire, baby carrots in every lunch box. What’s the discarded excess in the Jewish education system we are not realizing? What is our crisis that can be turned into opportunity? We know the Hebrew Schools are mostly failing, B’nai Mitzvahs are hollow shells of meaning and Judaic literacy is on the decline. What’s the sweet spot? Where is the opportunity? Go to the where the problem – the useless carrots… that’s where change is waiting to happen. I met folks in Florida who get this – who want to be part of the solution and not perpetuate the problem. More and more are trying and starting to think big picture and systemic change. Let’s face it: Sinai – we got a problem. But can it be overcome? I think so. Creative crowdsourcing, and strategic thinking, brave decisions and risky business – I think we have some great solutions waiting to happen, fast. Sinai. Revisited. 5.0.
You can read the rest of his blogpost here.
My husband loves innovation. Of any kind. I am sure it is connected to his ADD. The point is, he often refers to “Black swans”. In the innovation world, this refers to an abberation that can be turned into a blessing, a gift, a new innovation in a certain field. (Black Swan Event on Wikipedia.)
I think Amichai’s example of a black swan is a great one, and an apt analogy to what is needed in our world. I love this example because it isn’t about reinventing Halacha, or changing the rules, or saying that we can modify Judaism to make it easier for us in our times. It is about seeing the potential within what we have that we are letting go to waste.
What are we calling “waste” or “defective”? What babies are we throwing away with the bath water? This idea I like. What Amichai aptly points out is that the Jewish community is facing a crisis from the current economy that affects us existentially as well as practically. And that this, in and of itself, is a “black swan”, an opportunity. The Madoff tragedy combined with the depression (yeah, okay, keep calling it a recession…) has decimated much of the finances of the FL Jewish community – and organizations in NY have closed and reopened, redefining themselves.
But this crisis, like all, is also an opportunity. I see all of America slowing down and becoming more reflective during the current crisis. People are simplifying their lives, reexamining their priorities all over the place. (Unemployment gives anyone a lot of time to think, right?)
Sometimes I wish that like Amichai, I could be devoted full time to the macro concerns of Klal Yisroel and how we are going to reignite people, help people love and serve Hashem… and help people who are already committed to serving Hashem to remember kiddush Hashem, chillul Hashem, and the importance of both.
For now, I have to spend most of my time on the micro — my own little bayit neeman b’yisrael. My own microcosm. Trying to raise committed, passionate Torah observant Jews who love all of Am Yisrael where they are, how they are. Kiruv without condescension. Passing a flame without burning anyone.
I am really happy that the Amichai Lau Lavie’s of the world are out there. Our “kolot Hashem” are definitely different. But he is definitely out there finding the baby carrots and black swans of the Jewish world. I think he might be a black swan, actually.
So, oh powerful Jewish Imas… what are our baby carrots and black swans? What are we wasting and throwing away? And what are we going to tell male Jewish leadership about reinspiring, and about “Sinai. Revisited. 5.0.“?????
We had an interesting experience in our family this week, which turned into a learning experience for many of us, mostly me, of course.
My twins were very upset over what they perceived to be a gross injustice. It seems that while most of their class believed that they were invited to stay at an event for a certain amount of time (past their bedtime), two out of a very small class had parents that for whatever reason had a different understanding, and allowed their children to stay later.
My children would never have been allowed to stay any later than they did, invitation or no; we take bedtimes pretty seriously around here.
There was lots of drama and even angry tears, exacerbated by staying out late, of course. The umbrage had two sources: 1. The idea that there were two different sets of rules for kids in the class “isn’t fair”, and 2. The other children, they complained bitterly, will come to school and brag.
I decided to address the two issues separately. First of all, sometimes parents make exceptions for their kids. I can’t tell my children why other people do what they do or why. But I never spend a lot of time on the “it’s not fair” complaint. In a house of seven children what does come out fair? Not much. I remind them for the billionth time that Hashem wants us to appreciate what we have, that we are given what is best for us, not for someone else. And in this case? For them to feel that it isn’t fair that someone else got invited to stay out later than I would ever let them seems a bit theoretical. So life isn’t fair, kid. Done.
When my kids complained about the bragging, (which was still just being anticipated by tired, angry kids) something resonated with me. I really understood their anxiety.
I remember kids bragging in school, don’t you? I remember how much it bothered me. I remember feeling jealous and angry. I also remember my parents telling me that the kids who brag do so because they don’t have x or y and need to make themselves feel better. I remember thinking that once again my parents just didn’t get it, and that they couldn’t possibly see how much better that other kid’s life was than mine. Clearly if they heard what I did, and saw what I did, they would be jealous of that bragging kid too.
The mother cub in me opened my big (consistently big) mouth and let these two parents know that the other kids in the class were upset. I thought they might be able to give some anti-bragging pep-talks to their children. Not really my place, and I don’t think I made my point well. Regardless, it didn’t seem to help much later.
Before school, we had a talk about the ever-so-feared bragging. This always of course starts with the reminder that we can’t control what other people do, only how we handle it. Not something my 8 year olds ever seem to want to hear. Apparently, I am supposed to knock sense into everyone else’s children, or at least instruct their parents on proper child-rearing.
Some kids aren’t actually bragging. Sometimes, I explain, kids are genuinely happy about something they got or did, and they want to share the news with their friends. Their goal isn’t to make anyone jealous, and part of being a good friend is being able to be happy for someone else you care about when they receive or experience something good.
“Yeah Ima, we know. We aren’t talking about that. Kids do brag, they are mean and show off. ”
Sometimes that is true. The children who do that don’t feel superior to you. If they did, they wouldn’t have to brag, I say. They feel like they have to show that they are as good as you, as lucky as you… and they do that through bragging.
And what did my son say? “Ima, you just don’t get it! You don’t know how it feels…..” And that was when I got to explain to my kids that I know exactly how it feels. I realized in their surprised eyes that I don’t tell my children often enough that it was hard for me to be a kid too!
What was interesting was when I demonstrated to them that there are times that they may make other kids jealous of them without bragging, and for that other child, bragging may make them feel better.
For the child that sees you playing so nicely with your brothers – but he doesn’t have any brothers. Or the child who barely sees his father – and sees Abba choosing to spend so much time with you. Or the child who wishes her parents would observe more Judaism, and sees the traditions in your home. (Or maybe the opposite?) Or the child who struggles so much in school and watches you do so well with so little effort. Those kids will never come to you and tell you straight-out how lucky they think you are…. but they might say things to make themselves feel better that are hurtful to you.
And I know it stinks, because I do remember…. but you can choose to not let it bother you. If you knew how much that child hurt inside for some of the things you take for granted, then you wouldn’t feel jealous. You would feel happy for him or her that they also have something that they know you wish you could have.
The next thing that happened really surprised me: one of the twins looked at me as said “I know what you are saying is true, and it makes sense, it just doesn’t feel like it.”
So his head got it — isn’t that most of the challenge?
…………………………………. I had to wait until school was over to find out what happened:
“So, no one bragged, right?” (I was still holding out for my mama bear talk the night before having had some impact).
“No, Ima you are wrong! There was a LOT of bragging. And one of the kids kept saying what a GREAT time they had after we left!”
“So, nu? How did you handle it? ”
“It really didn’t bother us so much. ”
“Did our talk help”
“Yeah, it did. I told (this child) I was happy for them.”
That’s when it hit me. I could have spared them the big talk and told them that if you tell a braggart that you are happy for them, there really isn’t anywhere to go with the bragging, is there? I could have just given them a strategy.
But I think the conversation was an important one, hence this blog post. And it meant more to me than them. Because until this incident I really hadn’t remembered how much the bragging had bothered me. And I hadn’t remembered what my parents said, or that they were right, in the end (again!). I hadn’t looked back at my own painful memories of other kids’ behavior looking through the prism of adult comprehension of broken families and financial struggles and all of the many other issues that children hide away while at school.
I hope they remain better able to withstand bragging. As third graders, I would venture to say that they are far from out of the woods on this issue. I also hope that I become more sensitive to bragging without meaning to. To being tzanua, modest, in my blessings.
And I have to remember to tell my children much more often that sometimes I found being a kid really tough too…….
1. Peel a clementine/tangerine. If you start it, they can peel off the rest. It gives you more time, and they are sooo happy, with a yummy reward for a job well done.
2. Putting the silverware from the dishwasher basket into the drawer. So it won’t be sorted properly. You can always do that later. Just take out sharp knives first.
3. Turn off the lights in their room at bedtime. Very empowering.
4. Put their own shoes on the right shelf, in the right drawer, or in the right closet.
5. Push the stoller… okay maybe only for fives steps, but still.
6. Get out of the car, once mobile. They like the extra time it takes once you have taken them out of the car seat to climbing out of the car — sometimes it is a lot of extra time.
7. Putting the groceries into the back of the cart. (Bet you already knew this one.)
8. Play with push pins. No; it isn’t too dangerous. Tlhey can put them into the top (or side) of a cardboard box, especially if you do it first and make holes. Great for their dexterity, and keeps them busy and out of trouble for a number of minutes. Works best when they are in a high chair, so you don’ t have to worry about push pins everywhere. They also get that the ends are sharp, and avoid them. This is also a great lesson. Not for every kid, I admit.
9. Sprinkle on cinnamon and sugar. I use this instead of honey and syrup on food. Much less sugar. They love to do it themselves. A one year old can sprinkle it on unsweetened apple sauce without any help.
10. I was waiting to post this until I came up with a tenth. But I think it would be more fun if you sent me your suggestions….
... and how do I get this off, exactly?
I like the idea of hiding my housework from myself…. in theory.
In what has to be the all time highlight in my career as a mom, this morning I have managed to melt plastic all over my oven:
what I wasn't able to scoop out, soft, with a wooden spoon...
Someone in my community taught me this great secret she learned from our rebbetzin; if you can’t stand looking at the larger pots and pans that are dirty for all of Shabbat, hide them in the oven.
First of all, if you are lucky enough to have two dishwashers then you usually won’t have this problem. You can hide everything in there. We have one dishwasher, and it is dairy because we eat so much more dairy during the week.
Second, if you are going to use this little trick you have to either: make sure to wash your dirty dishes motzei Shabbat instead of relaxing, hanging out, or just being tired; or at least have to have the presence of mind to NOT TURN IT ON UNTIL YOU HAVE TAKEN THINGS BACK OUT.
Come to think of it, one probably should have the sechel (wisdom) not to put a plastic cutting board in the oven to store, ever, no matter how messy the kitchen is, or how much it bothers you.
I would love to tell you that this is the very first time I have preheated an oven and then realized I had left things in there. I wish it were the second time, or even the third. This is the first time I have ever been stupid enough to put a plastic object in there, never mind forget about it completely.
I think the holy and wise rebbetzin who uses this trick to hide her pots and pans is much older than me, gets a full night sleep, and has older children who help her DO the dishes motzei Shabbat instead of hiding them and leaving them there.
Now my house smells like melted, toxic plastic. I have no idea how I can safely burn the goo off without causing my home to become a toxic hazard too dangerous for my own children. I have no doubt it is going to be one of those lessons I have learned the hard way, with a lot of time, money and energy wasted.
Truly, mother of the year. : (
PS – if I figure out how to safely get rid of it all, I will write an update.
I went to two public high schools. One in CT, and one in MA – we moved when I was 16, which is just about the worst time in your life to move. Except for maybe 17.
The former HS has scheduled a reunion for this summer, and thanks to the amazing wonders of Facebook I am now in the loop enough to be invited despite my lack of status as a graduate.
However, many months before I go I find myself already feeling like I am back in High School.
I didn’t grow up Orthodox, or anywhere close. But in our little, waspy, very Connecticut town I was the closest thing to a super frummy Jew anyone encountered. And opportunities to let me know were almost never passed up.
I stayed out of school the second day of Rosh Hashanah (gasp!). I took my PSAT’s on a Tuesday instead of Saturday. I had a kosher house, missed play practice for Hebrew School, wrote school essays on Jewish topics, and explained to many of classes things like “why it is offensive for the history teacher to tell everyone that the Jews killed Jesus”.
I didn’t mind being the “super Jew” of the school. I didn’t love it either. I wasn’t allowed to date non-Jews, which didn’t help the situation much. I faced that particular problem by finding out where the Jewish boys were – USY – and going there. I only found out months into high school that while I was off at USY events most weekends the kids in my school assumed I was home studying like a big nerd because I wasn’t at their parties. I am quite sure that misconception wasn’t cleared up for most.
Many years later I have reconnected with a lot of people from that little town where I grew up. I didn’t get to see the end of everyone’s school story because of the move, and most of us had been together straight through since kindergarten. I have been hoping there will be a reunion.
There was a posting that a reunion (twenty years already) is being planned. A poll went out by the event organizer about what dates and times will work best for people. I wrote in my response that Saturday day would be out of the question for me so I would strongly prefer a Sunday event, but I would love to come and will do my best to participate in whatever parts of the weekend I can. In other words “gee, I would really love it if you could make special accomodations because of my religion, but when you don’t I will smile and come along anyhow.” — Just like in high school.
Then the response to the poll was sent out and the event is going to be on a Saturday. I hope to go Saturday night. With my head covered, my long skirt, my children with their Hebrew names, and if I am really lucky, some horrid kosher airline food brought in for me. I will feel like “super Jew” all over again, just like in high school.
When I was growing up, I was very proud of my Judaism and I definitely wore it on my sleeve. I was responsible for that impression, even though I truly didn’t consciously encourage it. At the same time, I was a lot of things; a musician, a good student, an actress, a friend, a troubled teen, an activist, and a student council member. And yet I always felt that my peers didn’t see that. All they saw was “super Jew”.
Now it is half a year before a reunion I have always wanted to attend. I am not worried about the weight I have gained. I was heavy when I left there, and most people are unaware of how much thinner I got in between. I wasn’t one of the “pretty ones”, and back then I didn’t care. I still am not one of the “pretty ones”, and I still don’t care.
I am happy with and proud of my choices, my family, my career, and my Jewish growth and development. But I fear that I will walk in the room and all of those people will still only see “super Jew” — just like in high school.
I am trying something new this year. I am now what I like to call a “work at home” mom. I am working as a PR consulant part time, from home. I also am home full time with my 1 1/2 year old son.
while the other six are in school during the day, that only gives me until 3:30 to work until basically 9 pm, when bedtime is over.
(I also carve out time for teaching early childhood Jewish music classes and some Torah learning.)
I have remained a “stay at home” mom for almost the entirety of the preschoolers-rearing stage — a long ten years. I am glad that I did, and it has always been because I felt it what was best for my kids. I even kept everyone home for a year, with 3 preschoolers and a baby having “Gan Ima” all day every day. (The horror others had that I was “homeschooling” my children who were all too young to technically be in school is for another post.)
But being home with my kids full time was always a struggle for me. I don’t enjoy going to the playground for hours. I don’t like fingerpaint. I don’t enjoy sitting on the floor with one cute little child and playing trains. Certainly not as much as I liked working. I LOVED working. I enjoyed my career. When I gave it up, it was never forever and it was never really completely. I found fulfillment in event planning or article writing within my Jewish community instead of for an employer. I joined the shul board, founded a Jewish girl scout troop… lots of activities to keep me busy and engaged at certain elements of my career.
Two years I began working again outside of volunteering. Very, very part time, and all from home. At first pregnant, with a sitter for my toddler. Then, with a little baby around. It wasn’t so complicated. He loved to nurse and sleep, and those things made it easy for me to squeeze in work. And parts of my brain started to buzz with activity again.
Now I have developed a business and a client base. (I happen to love the clients I have now.) My little one is a lot less little, and I find myself doing a challenging juggling act I never really attempted when my other children were this young.
A friend who has her children in the same school was laid off this year, and is having a go at consulting, and also at trying to be a “work at home” mom. Her little one is younger than mine, and still a tad easier. (He will catch up soon enough, I have no doubt)
“G” & and I are trying an experiment; we are going to try to work in the same house 2 – 3 days a week while the little ones play, sleep, whine, make messes, etc. The idea is to have a mother’s helper here with us, share the expense, be with our children, while successfully earning money.
When my now ten year old was 18 months I would have never made it past the guilt to such a plan. I needed to be spending my days at mommy and me, music classes, gymnastics for toddlers, and water babies — which very pregnant with twins was quite a picture, believe me.
Now, I am a different woman, ten years older with a lot more experience and confidence. Those classes were fun, but she didn’t need them. What she needed, and what my little one needs now is a happy, healthy, focused, centered mommy who can give her little one(s) attention and love with a whole heart and mind. She didn’t really like those classes any more than she liked the park. It was “Ima time” no matter how you sliced it, made it fancy, added programming, or spent a lot of money on it.
I am hoping that I can find the perfect balance for this child and for me – his Ima – at this stage. The experiment with his friend, my friend, a sitter and two laptops all in one house is a new one, and you will have to follow me in seeing if it works.
But I can tell you that I nurse him to sleep while writing letters and articles. I take a break between skype calls and emails to nuzzle his neck and tickle him like crazy and even to play with trains a little…. and so far, it is the most fun I have had being home.
Now if I can just find a way to get the 20 weekly loads of laundry done in the mix……….
I was asked by the local outreach organization to teach a “lunch and learn” class on Tu B’Shvat this past Shabbat. I heartily agreed because I love what they do and love to help them do it. I love to teach and jump at every chance to do so (there aren’t that many). I have been running a women’s Tu B’Shvat seder at the same location for the past four years, and as a result have ended up learning quite a great deal about the holiday.
However, once I had a chance to stop and think about it, I realized that this would be the first time I was teaching a shiur to a mixed crowd. I teach lots of mixed crowds – religious and not religious – but never men and women together. My rebbetzin – who would never agree to do such a thing – gave me a look that read “give me a break”. My husband gave me same look, but even stronger.
I am not shy or in anyway less than completely outspoken in mixed company. I have “addressed” mixed audiences before in the same location… but not as a teacher of a Torah shiur. Not for an hour and a half. I have taken gemara shiurim for women. I studied at Drisha. I had a Rabbi (the brilliant Rabbi David Aaron) speak under my chuppah, but was adamant that I wanted a woman – the incredible Rabbanit Chana Henkin – to speak at the wedding…. so no wonder they gave a look that said “give me a break”, right?
I wrote as my title that I am not a feminist. I am a strong sexist, and a huge fan of womankind.
What I do not support, however, is the idea that we are the same as men in any way, that Hashem wants us to have similar roles in any way, and that male opportunities can and should be given to women wherever and whenever possible. (Even when speaking within the boundaries of halacha.) That is my understanding of what feminism is, and so that makes me not a feminist.
Here’s the thing; I think that women are better at just about everything under the sun than men. Maybe not lifting huge weights or playing football. But if we needed to, we would find a wiser way of getting both of those things done. I have seen and heard and read numerous studies on how women use more parts of their brain. I have read shiurim on how the limitations put on women in Orthodoxy are because we are “exempt” and not because we are “prohibited”. Why do more things than you have to in order to connect to G-d? Why not perfect instead what you do need to do?
My experience of egalitarianism in Judaism is the equivalent of the best behaved child in the school fighting for decades for the right to stay after school in detention.
I once had a dream of becoming a Cantor. I had amazing role models, education and experience to pursue such a thing. My choice to sit behind a mechitza is not because I feel a desire to be subjugated. It comes from a true sense of superiority – not the opposite.
Years ago, I sat in a session at the GA – the General Assembly of the UJA. In this session they were discussing a new crisis in the Hebrew Union College’s Rabbinical program. According to the panel, as the percentage of enrolled female students neared 50, the enrollment of males just started drastically dropping off. The woman on the panel went on to describe studies that had been done in other industries, and cited the same phenomenon in the secular world. Men fled the nursing profession when women began entering it in equal numbers. The rise in female enrollment in medical school, at least according to the panel member, was having the same effect.
This would seem to be data that agrees with the way a sexist Orthodox Jewish structure was explained to me. Women can be rabbis; they can be great rabbis…. but what does that do to the men? There is something in the male psyche and makeup that doesn’t like competing in anything against women.
And I think the sages understood that much better than contemporary secular society would like to.
I know there are some that believe that this is about evolving and growing beyond such primitive and unfair inclinations, but I don’t buy it. If you believe in G-d, and you believe (he) made man and woman the way he did for a reason, then I believe you need to conclude that the differences are not to be ignored or squashed, but acknowledged, celebrated and worked with.
…. So I believe all of that, and still gave this shiur in front of a bunch of men. G-d must have a wonderful sense of humor. Someone in our community had a baby, and while baby and Ima stayed in the hospital, many family members came for the shalom zachor and to lend a hand. From Brooklyn and from Lakewood. With very black hats on their heads. And these family members decided to stay for the ‘lunch and learn’.
Mixed learning in our community, taught by a woman at times, isn’t unusual or controversial. So the issue was with me, and my comfort level. Now, I was dealing with men in my audience who had never (they told me) listened to a shiur by a woman in their lives. So apparently, I was making some statement or stand anyway.
I would love to hear from my readers if my next move was cowardly; I asked the proud new father of said baby to get up and read the Gemara section (the first part of Masechet Rosh Hashana, in the Mishna) that is our first mention of Tu B’Shvat. The truth is he is a wonderful Rebbe in the school and he did a much better job at reading and explaining it than I ever could have. I am quite sure that there is no halachic distinction at all whatsoever between my teaching the class and my reading that Gemara. But I couldn’t do it.
The rest of the shiur I chose to enjoy. After all, no one made anyone stay, or indicated that it would be rude for them to leave. They could have eaten and then left. They chose to be there. They complimented me afterwards. I take comfort in the fact that I seriously doubt that any of the black hat men have ever heard much of anything about Tu B’Shvat at all whatsoever. Certainly not why the kabbalists made a Tu B’Shvat seder and perceived it to be a tikkun.
I am not embarrassed to teach in front of men, and I don’t apologize for my own level of knowledge, access to learning (yes, the Gemara) or my ability to give that knowledge over.
Through this process I have come to realize that ultimately what bothers me is only that I don’t like being the focus of attention in a room for over an hour that isn’t filled solely with women. Although the focus should of course be on the material, in principle I just don’t want to stand up and be that which everyone looks at for such a long period of time in mixed company.
I don’t think that I will agree to do such a thing again. In this particular case, there was a least some strong element of kiruv, outreach, involved. I know there were men at an early point in the Jewish journey who became more connected to the holiday because of my teaching. This is the one aspect that causes my ambivalence.
I have no doubt that the “black hat” men (as if I can judge them by their head covering…) did NOT learn that a woman can be learned and teach a coherent shiur on a topic and give over information they didn’t know. I am 100% certain they already knew that.
I don’t think tzniut is about hiding your talents. G-d forbid. Or denying them. But I do think it is about having the confidence to share them in a way that draws attention to the service of Hashem and only the service of Hashem and not attention to ourselves or what we are capable of.
I hope this is the way in which the shiur was received. I am confident that Hashem is concerned with my intentions.
I am still left with the feeling that I made a statement, and not one I am sure I wanted to make.
I am, after all, a sexist. : )
I don’t feel 100% saying Happy New Year. It isn’t our new year, it isn’t our calendar. But I do think it is a time of renewal and a new year on a calendar that is in all of our lives. So I choose Happy 2010 instead.
May this be a year of growth, health, happiness, and prosperity for you and your families.
Happy 2010.
This is a posting by the very talented “A Mother in Israel”, titled; “Tips on Staying Home and Staying Sane”. I could paraphrase, but I hope you read it. It is the best advice distilled. Not only do I concur, but I really wish I had had access to such a list when I was starting out with my oldest.
http://www.amotherinisrael.com/2009/05/18/tips-staying-home-staying-sane/
Yasher Koach, Hannah Katsman.
