The Dog is in the Courtyard

““Ha’kelev ba’chatzer!” said the small child in his stroller, the night breeze refreshing the couple and their child after the hot August day. The child pointed toward a ceramic figurine in a neighbor’s front yard garden. “The dog is in the courtyard.”

The father, not really paying attention, offered what he thought was the appropriate gentle correction, “HaMelech ba’sadeh—the King is in the field.”

The King is in the field is an expression in heavy use during the month of Elul, a time of Jewish repentance, when the King (Hashem), is said to be accessible to all, even to the farmer in the field. He comes to us, wherever we are; ready to listen to what we have to say for ourselves.

The child in the stroller, desperate now to make his point, since his parents were in the process of wheeling him past the object in question, repeated his words, this time with more force, “Ha’kelev ba’chatzer!”

Once again the father reinforced the child’s impression that nobody was listening, “Ken—yes. HaMelech ba’sadeh—the King is in the field.”

It all happened in a matter of moments. My sedentary job writing for Kars for Kids had begun to affect my weight. I’d just come out for an evening power walk as part of a new resolution to get some exercise, get back in shape. They, the couple with the child, were passing my home.

This was a couple of days ago. And as trivial as it may seem, I haven’t been able to get it out of my mind. This brief interaction, this small parenting “fail” seemed to me symbolic of something much larger.

It’s this: if man is created in the image of God and God stands ready to listen to us in Elul, even coming out to meet us on our own terms then what of this father? He was preoccupied with repentance, as he should be at this time of year, but did his behavior reflect that of a receptive and listening King?

He hadn’t met his child on the child’s own terms. He hadn’t allowed his eyes to follow the trajectory of his son’s pointing finger. If he had, he would surely have seen the lawn sculpture that looked to his child like nothing so much as a dog in a courtyard. This father failed to put himself in his son’s place, to see things from his child’s perspective and so failed the listening test.

Since I passed that couple and their child, I’ve been watchful. I’ve noted many cases where people are talking yet not listening to each other. Not really.

Like the woman who tried to tell me lashon hara (a category of prohibited speech). “It’s not lashon hara,” she said. “Three rabbis told me it’s not.”

But it was and I didn’t want to hear it. Still, she remained oblivious to me and my concerns.

Like the woman who left a comment on a facebook posting that sounded to me like dibat haaretz, a prohibited form of tale-bearing against the Holy Land meant to leave a negative impression. I removed her comment and used the standard Facebook message form to tell her what I found objectionable.

“That’s not dibat haaretz,” she said, citing her husband’s opinion on the matter as authoritative.

But it was. I didn’t want to read that or have my friends read it either. Yet she remained defensive, not allowing for my concerns.

Once more it happened, just today. I was tagged on a post I found objectionable. I “untagged” myself. I politely explained that I don’t post articles that slander Jews or Israel.

Necessary Slander??

The tagger tried to convince me that the post was not slander. Then he tried to convince me it was necessary slander to correct a greater ill. The more I tried to demur, the more forcefully he argued his point.

It began to fall into place for me, how being receptive to others is crucial to the act of repentance. When we don’t listen, we’re being stubborn. We’re demanding that things go our way. We’re not letting go and moving forward. We’re stubbornly holding on to our (sinful) status quo.

I am guilty, too—as guilty as anyone else. There are times I could shoot myself for saying something I know I shouldn’t, even as the words come out my mouth. There are times I pretend I don’t see a person’s body language telling me to STOP RIGHT NOW—I DON’T WANT TO HEAR THIS.

In the not listening, in not seeing things as they really are, we are as stuck as stuck can be. We stay where we are, stuck in our own vanity, and in our own human failings. We remain in stasis.

The King is in the field, but it’s up to us to meet Him and to be receptive to the lessons that are all around us: that come at us from our fellow human beings. We’re each of us as fallible as the next. But if we’ll just listen with all we’ve got, we may get somewhere.

We may just meet the King.

Choosing God Over the Tooth Fairy--Dedicated to Bernie Newman

My friend Bernie Newman asked me why I believe in God as opposed to say, the Tooth Fairy. I gave him a very long response and thought to blog it it since it goes to the essence of why I have become religious.

This is from the word I gave at my daughter Malka's Bas Mitzvah:

There's a Midrash that says that when the angels got wind of the fact that Hashem (God) was about to create another human being--Eve--they complained. They said to Hashem, "Why are you going to create another one of those things? They SIN!"

Hashem told the angels, "Don't worry. This new creature will be different. I will create her so that it won't be in her nature to sin."

Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch said that when Hashem split Eve from Adam, Eve/woman was given man's portion of innate spirituality.

Because Adam/man lost this part of himself, he would always be at risk for becoming at sea with his spirituality--would always need to actively tie himself to Hashem by dint of doing many mitzvos (commandments). Without the mitzvos, man loses his connection to his spirituality.

Take the mitzvah (commandment) of sukkah*, for instance. Men are commanded to dwell in the sukkah for an entire week. Women have no such commandment. Men need to enact the drama of living in the desert under the stars for a whole week so as to connect them to the history of their ancestors' lengthy desert-wandering. That little playing-out of ancient history is exactly what they need to get them through another year of their Jewish existence while they live out their day-to-day drudgery.

Women, on the other hand, have no need of all of those commandments because they have a direct spiritual tie to Hashem. It's inborn. Men have to strive, women are already there, close to Hashem every second of every day.

In the morning service, there is a series of blessings called the Negative Blessings. We say thank God I'm not this, and thank God I'm not that. Many feminists get P.O.'ed about the blessing that men say: Thank God I'm not a woman.

Rashi explains that men are thanking God for having more commandments--that the more commandments we have, the greater our quality of life. So, a free man has more commandments than a slave, and so forth. A man has more commandments than a woman. That's the real meaning of those blessings: we express our gratitude for what we get out of living a Torah life and fulfilling the mitzvos.

Within all those negative blessings, there is a single affirmation. Women say (channeling Popeye??): Thank God I am what I am.

I love that. Woman is saying: Thank you for creating me with innate spirituality, for making me a special kind of human being with a direct tie to You, for making me someone who isn't so inclined to sin. I am happy with my portion, even grateful!

Man, on the other hand, is lucky to have those many commandments because he needs them. It helps him alter his life from one of humdrum toil to a life that has meaning. So a man who strives to follow the mitzvos is joyful for having this constant tool for attaining the spiritual.

A woman is every bit as joyful because of her unique position of having been born spiritually whole.

As I explained to Bernie, either you buy it or you don't. There is nothing one can say about the Tooth Fairy that will speak to my soul. The reason is something inborn, because I'm a woman--a Jewish woman.

It's much harder for a man to come to and maintain faith and spirituality. It requires striving. This is what I believe with all my heart.

*Sukkah-a temporary hut that is central to the holiday of Sukkos.

Plural Thinking

In the era of love and peace, A/K/A, the sixties, everyone talked astrology. It was big.


Astrology made its way into pop culture via the musical Hair (Age of Aquarius), people nixed lovers based on astral predictions of incompatibility, and folks slurped up their daily newspaper horoscopes for a hefty dose of narcissism.

Some of us said, "We know it's not real, but it's fun," while others paid close attention and planned their calendars and love lives in accordance with the printed word.

But the appeal of astrology and horoscopes have faded quite a bit and don't figure quite so large in our everyday lives. Of course, like every other truth, this is more or less true, depending on individuals, with some people still enthralled with the idea that the stars have the power to invest their lives with meaning. I'm not one of them.

I am, however, very involved with the idea that my sign, Gemini, is a true reflection of my personality. I've noticed that my Gemini friends tend to feel the same way: that there is something about this astrological sign that makes Geminis proud to own up as members of the tribe. We feel special. Anointed, even.



I don't want to delve into the roots of astrology, but would like to give an overview of my personal beliefs on the topic. Astrology has Jewish lineage, since its roots are in the Jewish Sefer Yetzira (Book of Creation). But observant Jews are wary of astrology as a guiding force because of the biblical precedent: "Do not act on the basis of auspicious times" (Leviticus 19:26).

It's like this: God could, in theory, paint a picture in the stars of future events, but depending on any one particular picture would be foolish, since God could change the sky at any moment and even from minute to minute. God could make the stars look one way, but make things play out in an altogether different manner. Sky-pictures can be tests of faith.

The test: Do we base our actions according to a chimera in the sky, or do we do we examine each moment and act according to what is right or wrong at a given moment according to our code of ethics?

On the other hand, we can use the idea of the astrological signs for personal insight and for the purpose of perfecting ourselves. For instance, Scorpio is consumed with the idea of sex and death. Scorpios have the nature of murderers, but, on channeling their instincts, might become butchers or surgeons. I feel very comfortable with the idea that my sign says reams about me and that this knowledge can help me become a better person.

About ten years ago, some women I knew took a course on astrology from a Jewish perspective. The teacher was a French woman, the daughter of a rabbi who had achieved some renown in this field of study. The all-women students were taught how to make astrological charts and give readings. My friends were eager to practice their skills and asked me and my husband if they could be allowed to do our charts.

When I was shown my chart, I was told that it was very rare in that it depicted a perfect Magen David, the Star of David. Wow. I looked at my chart, and sure enough, there was a perfect Jewish star holding pride of place. The women consulted their teacher who said that this was a rare occurrence and signified that I was a special person. Who wouldn't love hearing that stuff? I just ate it up.

But things got even more interesting when my husband's chart came out a perfect triangle. I watched the women pointing to the three points of the triangle as they mumbled and nodded. One of them explained, "Your husband is inflexible. He goes from point A, to point B, to point C with no digression. EVER!" The woman used her finger to punctuate each fixed point.

Furthermore, other women jumped in to explain, his bullish ways were bound to butt into my fuller, more rounded character on a continual basis ensuring regular collisions in the form of marital spats. Five faces turned to me in curiosity, yearning (drooling) for confirmation. I kept a poker face. "Interesting," I said.

I know, I know: I shouldn't disappoint people like that. But it's a Gemini urge to always dissemble. And above all, I am a died-in-the-wool Gemini. Nyuk.

In actual fact, those women weren't really surprising me much. When Dov and I were dating, and I discovered he was a Virgo, a part of me thought, "Yikes. Virgos and Geminis are incompatible," but I dismissed the idea as retro, 60's thinking. I registered but didn't place too much stock in the idea.

I don't plan for this to be a reveal-all blog entry, but suffice it to say that while Dov and I could never stand in for Ward and June Cleaver, our 30th anniversary is only two months away. If I had counted on astral predictions, I never would have married the guy, but somehow, we're making it work.

A friend once shared with me something she read in a Jewish book on astrology. The book was in French (are you seeing a pattern yet?), so she translated for my sake. This tome commented on the fact that out of all the astrological signs, only Virgo and Gemini are represented by human figures, whereas the others are animals, elements, or objects.

The idea that Virgo and Gemini are the only signs represented by people has a Jewish significance. Virgo is associated with the Hebrew month of Elul, in which the High Holidays begin, a traditional time of repentance. Only people have the ability to repent.

Gemini is associated with the Hebrew month of Sivan, in which the Torah was given to the Jewish people, as commemorated by Shavuos (Shavuot), the Festival of Weeks, which occurs in Sivan. One of the reasons that Gemini is represented by twins is because this is the time that the twin tablets of the Ten Commandments were given to the Jewish people and God became tied to His Chosen. Only people can observe the commandments.

So, there you have it: Sivan and Elul are of special importance to people. But why, then, should their associated signs be incompatible? I would be interested to hear from my readers any ideas they might have on the subject. Maybe my Jewish star as it appears on my chart is a kind of hint? My Virgo husband goes in one unerring direction, while I have two triangles in two opposite directions?

Another friend (not French this time, but maybe in training?), showed me that she had a book, not a Jewish book, that spoke about the negative aspects of the astrological signs. A Gemini herself, she told me that Geminis were the sign most likely to end up behind bars. She showed me the cover of the book, which was decorated with the astrological signs depicted according to their worst characteristics. The Twins were shown in jail-stripes.

I didn't read the book, but I'm guessing this has to do with the fact that Geminis are impulsive and mercurial (a good word to describe a sign that is associated with the planet Mercury). I could have said, "Geminis are 'supposed to be' impulsive and mercurial," but I totally buy into the idea that these personality traits are real. I see them in every Gemini I know. I don't see these traits in other people.

Geminis tend to attract other Geminis for friends, though relationships aren't calm and smooth. Geminis are creative, they write, they're musicians--they love to perform. But to me, the main thing about Geminis is that they are changeable. They are like two people rolled into one and you never know which one you're gonna get. Geminis are honest, but color the truth to make it more palatable or to get what they want. Geminis HATE boredom and are always flitting from thing to thing in an effort to stay engaged, but all too often find themselves in hyper-focus over the inconsequential. Geminis talk too much and then find they are hurt too easily. We are immature and volatile. We lack discretion and prudence. But we're witty, fun, and humorous.

Are Geminis double your pleasure, double the fun? Or are we double-trouble? Leave a comment below. Both of me are waiting to hear from you ;-)

Nobody Likes a Kvetch

It's a truism--nobody likes a kvetch. I had a friend, years ago, all she did was gripe about her difficult life. At first, I remained faithful, listened to her ad infinitum venting, mirrored her thoughts, sympathized, and on occasion, offered advice. But it was wearing. I realized I felt weary and down every time I left her. You can't really hide it when you feel like that, so I'd bring my blue fatigue home to my family and, well, it was contagious. Just affected everyone in sight.

I don't know how long it took for me to figure this out. I think it must have been about three years. So, for three long years, I coddled and nurtured this friend. I don't think she was clinically depressed, just seemed to have complete focus on the negative aspects of her life.

Was her life so bad? I really don't think so.

It may not be fair for me to second guess how hard her life felt to her, but when I realized how being with her made me feel, I decided it was time for me to take a hard look at the issues and get some perspective. I could only examine the details as she shared them with me, but her complaints did seem kind of garden variety to me. Weighing her issues against my own issues was the decisive factor in realizing that this friend's negativity was a heavy burden: unhealthy for me and my family. Besides, no matter what careful advice I offered, she always countered with why she couldn't possibly follow my counsel. I wanted to help her, but it didn't seem possible. Even just as a listening ear, I didn't seem to be able to offer much assistance, since the very next day, she felt just the same. At most, I might have been able to conclude that my listening may have kept her from feeling worse.

I didn't do anything cruel. I still cared about this woman. But I began to limit the amount of time I spent in her presence. The effect was immediate: I felt lighter, happier, and so did my family.

Now, I remember this friend whenever I'm laid low by circumstances and I make an effort to keep a cheerful countenance, no matter what. I do this by following my own, unfollowed advice to my friend, all those years ago. Instead of focusing on the painful, very real issues, I look for what I can do to change my situation into a brighter, happier one. I also make sure I milk every precious drop out of the goodness in my life.

Once you begin to look for happiness, you can find it everywhere. But you have to do the leg-work: you have to watch for those moments of joy.

Yesterday, I had a truly sucky day. My editor let the writing team know that our company is planning to employ outsourcing to get web content for half the price of what we've been receiving for the past two years. We had a choice: make a bid and accept twice as much work for half as much pay, or skidaddle. Let me add that I've been caring for a woman with dementia to round out my income and debts are mounting. My husband is urging me to take on more elder care, or to find work as a cashier, or clean houses. I've done this in the past. I know there's no shame in cleaning houses. But it FEELS shameful. It's nasty. It's exhausting. It's depressing.

And I do believe that I will succeed at my writing. I don't know why I feel this way, but I just do. I'm not yet ready to throw in the towel.

So, I attacked the issue with as much positivity as I could muster. I looked not at what I couldn't change, but what I might, with a bit of effort, be able to change. Here is what I did:

I worked on my profile at LinkedIn, and I searched for connections of connections with similar professional interests and made connection requests, copying and pasting the same message for pages and pages of search hits. An overwhelming number of these people accepted my request so that my list of contacts expanded 10 fold. I thought about which of my LinkedIn contacts might write me a reference, and nudged them until they followed through.

I wrote to a local writer's list, told my tale of woe, and asked for advice. As a result, advice from other writers has been coming into my inbox all morning. I also thought about what other contacts I have and how they might help me. A friend publishes a few children's books every year, so I sat down and typed up a children's story, edited my piece, and sent in a submission query.

I read about new job listings and applied for the one job that seemed suitable for me.

Then, I watched for happy moments.

I find that I have to attack unpleasantness on two levels. There is the practical level, as in the steps I took above, but there is the emotional comfort that arrives in small doses all day long, with no effort at all. You just have to be watching for them.

Last night, I invited my little boy into my bed so I could read to him before his bedtime. He didn't just accept my invitation, but looped his sweet pudgy arm around my own. It was so nice I held my breath for a moment.

But there are so many moments like these. I sit at my typewriter, typing away, dressed in my fuzziest, soft top, while outside the weather is blustery and gray. The house is filled with the smell of the good soup I have bubbling away on the stove, and it's pleasant to be home.

I know, too, that I have friends who care about me and loving children who like to spend time in my presence.

Yes, there is a lot of crap in my life. But what earthly good does it do me to dwell on the details? It's like being on a bus, stuck in traffic. You are late for your appointment, but there is absolutely nothing you can do about it, except call from your cellphone and explain your lateness. You're still going to be late. It's an act of God.

If you do your part, pray if you're a God-fearing person, or act, if you're a practical person (both in my case), then depression and worry are not productive emotions. Give them short shrift. Move on, act, pray, and find the joyful moments. You've got no choice. No one likes a kvetch.