Once upon a time, there was a Map. It was given long ago to a group of people who promised to guard it and to follow it, and it was copied meticulously many times over the centuries. The people understood that no matter how much time passed or where they were in the world, they were to be guided by the Map.
From the Map shone a golden city, a promise to all who kept to the map. "Someday," the people said, "we will see that place of light." And they believed it with all their hearts.
For generations, it was accepted that more than one route led to the golden city. When he looked into the Map, each man saw all possibilities, though one in particular might stand out to him. Great scholars met to debate the merits of each route. Entire schools were born. On one point they were all in agreement: Even if their own eyes never beheld the sight of the golden city, living by the Map was its own reward.
And then it came to pass, a group claimed to have no need of the Map. They had lived in the land for so long, they knew it as well as the faces of their wives. The land could be navigated without the Map. Perhaps, the most rebellious ones said, the golden city did not even exist.
So they left, their arguments hanging in the air like dust. The Map had never been threatened by their own kind before. The elders agreed that more than ever, it must be preserved and protected. Mixed with their determination was fear.
Suddenly, the Map looked different to many of the people. Where once he had seen multiple routes, only one appeared in each man's sight. The possibility of another way seemed like a threat. Neighbor turned against neighbor. Scholars accused one another of not following the Map, and the schools divided. All revered the Map. All believed that only they knew the true way to the golden city.
One day, a young boy, just on the cusp of manhood, was exploring outside as young boys do. He had been told of the Map since he was born. He knew that when he became a man, he would be responsible for following the Map toward the golden city. That morning, he stumbled across two scholars, both highly esteemed by their respective schools. The boy paused to listen to the wisdom they would have to impart.
But the two men were angry. Their words were coated in vitriol. Accusations flew with their spittle. Each accused the other of betraying the Map. His adversary would surely not merit the golden city, both said.
The boy ducked out of sight and leaned against a tree, his mind whirling. If neither of these great men could believe each other, then the entire Map must be a lie. The golden city was undoubtedly a myth. After all, who had seen it? What fools these people were, he thought. He would never be like them and believe in something that wasn't true.
When the scholars had parted ways and gone back to their Maps, for once they saw the same thing: The golden city was farther away than it had ever been.
The End
Wednesday, January 22, 2014
Thursday, January 16, 2014
Once, Twice, Three Times a LadyMama
Why did I ever think I could give up blogging? Especially when it means I have the honor of another (my third!) guest post on LadyMama. My friend Mimi makes being a Jewish woman look good, you guys. She has a rock star husband, two of the cutest kids I've ever seen, her own convention-shattering clothing line MIMU MAXI, and incredible style to boot. Topped off, of course, with a gorgeous sheitel. I'm so grateful to her for allowing me to share about my sheitel envy and one of the many reasons I'm looking forward to being a married woman. Check it out!
xo cbg
xo cbg
Tuesday, January 14, 2014
Say It Ain't So!
Last week, a headline caught my eye: "Meryl Streep calls Walt Disney Anti-Semitic."
WHAT.
Listen, I can live without Wagner; I've always been partial to Mozart anyway. And I couldn't find any concrete proof that Disney expressed or supported antipathy toward Jews. But the fact remains that we do often face choices involving companies with Nazi connections or people who made no secret of their anti-Semitism. So where do we draw the line? Should a Jew drive a Benz? Is buying Chanel wrong? If Disney actually was a bigot, would that make his movies off-limits for me and my children?
It's a question, I think, that each Jew must answer for him/herself. However an individual feels about it, one thing holds true: We're still here to make such choices. Amalek, in all his forms, comes and goes with the tide of history, but the Jewish people carry on.
cbg
Tuesday, January 7, 2014
Life in a Jar: The Irena Sendler Project
Last year I wrote a piece for JUF on coming to terms with the Holocaust as a convert. It's a subject I have studied for over 20 years, but it became much more personal as I learned just what it meant to be a Jew and met children and grandchildren of, and the survivors themselves. It seems that one of the dangerous trends in the years since the Shoah is the attempt to whitewash history and absolve everyone but the highest-ranking Nazis of any guilt. Perhaps the best defense against such excuses, then, are the stories of Righteous Gentiles who refused to sit idly by while their fellow citizens were murdered. In the face of unimaginable evil, they risked their lives to choose good.
I recently stumbled across the story of Irena Sendler, a Polish woman who helped to save the lives of over 2,000 Jewish children. Going door-to-door in the Warsaw Ghetto, Irena convinced parents that their children would only survive if she smuggled them out and placed them with Polish families, convents, and orphanages. At one point, she was captured by the Nazis and brutally beaten, after which she went underground and resumed her brave efforts.
Were it not for a history assignment half a world away and decades later, Irena's name and courage may have been forgotten. But in 1999, three students in Kansas entered their project on Irena Sendler into a National History Day challenge, inspired by their classroom motto, "He who changes one person, changes the world entire." Those familiar with the Talmud will recognize the similarity to, "Whoever saves a single life, it is as if he has saved the whole world." It's a coincidence that is perfectly fitting for a woman who courageously saved many lives.
You can visit IrenaSendler.com to learn more about her incredible story and upcoming events, and discover other unsung heroes in history via Twitter and Facebook.
cbg
I recently stumbled across the story of Irena Sendler, a Polish woman who helped to save the lives of over 2,000 Jewish children. Going door-to-door in the Warsaw Ghetto, Irena convinced parents that their children would only survive if she smuggled them out and placed them with Polish families, convents, and orphanages. At one point, she was captured by the Nazis and brutally beaten, after which she went underground and resumed her brave efforts.
Were it not for a history assignment half a world away and decades later, Irena's name and courage may have been forgotten. But in 1999, three students in Kansas entered their project on Irena Sendler into a National History Day challenge, inspired by their classroom motto, "He who changes one person, changes the world entire." Those familiar with the Talmud will recognize the similarity to, "Whoever saves a single life, it is as if he has saved the whole world." It's a coincidence that is perfectly fitting for a woman who courageously saved many lives.
You can visit IrenaSendler.com to learn more about her incredible story and upcoming events, and discover other unsung heroes in history via Twitter and Facebook.
cbg
Monday, January 6, 2014
Are You Happy Now?
I am officially Over. This. Winter. When you're wondering if you should take that trip to London a couple of months earlier than planned because it's currently a balmy 48 degrees there, you might live in Chicago. Actually, forget London--is it too early for me to join the Jewish community in Boca Raton? I play (miniature) golf!
This is what I do. When faced with an uncomfortable situation, I start mentally hitting the 'Escape' button. In some cases, e.g. nasty weather, it's very easy and socially acceptable to do so. There is a sort-of consensus on being able to have one mood in winter and another when it's lovely out. As a Jew, however, I would be remiss if I didn't dig a little deeper and see if I can do a little better. Whatever the scenario, the question is: Will I allow myself to be governed by the whims of chance and circumstance, or will I choose to be the person I want to be in every moment, regardless of whether it's a blessing or a challenge? I didn't phrase it that way by accident: Even at the root, there is a choice.
As I mentioned in my New Year's post, I am striving to be more grateful. Part of gratitude is staying in the present, focusing on what I have rather than jumping ahead to what I want instead. I have a warm home. I have all the proper accoutrements should I venture outside. What may seem standard to me, what is easy to take for granted, are in actuality blessings, and they are really all I need. I want to be a person who is content with what I have and where I am every day, who will be in a good mood and resist kvetching whatever the weather.
I think people often misconstrue happiness as an absence of any pain or discomfort, but that's not what it is at all. Happiness that depends on outside factors is happiness that fades fast. I believe that true happiness is a combination of acceptance of what is, trust in G-d, and working on myself in the meantime. These things cannot be shaken by a little Arctic blast.
To everything there is a season. If not for the dark and cold parts, there wouldn't be any new growth.
Stay warm,
cbg
This is what I do. When faced with an uncomfortable situation, I start mentally hitting the 'Escape' button. In some cases, e.g. nasty weather, it's very easy and socially acceptable to do so. There is a sort-of consensus on being able to have one mood in winter and another when it's lovely out. As a Jew, however, I would be remiss if I didn't dig a little deeper and see if I can do a little better. Whatever the scenario, the question is: Will I allow myself to be governed by the whims of chance and circumstance, or will I choose to be the person I want to be in every moment, regardless of whether it's a blessing or a challenge? I didn't phrase it that way by accident: Even at the root, there is a choice.
As I mentioned in my New Year's post, I am striving to be more grateful. Part of gratitude is staying in the present, focusing on what I have rather than jumping ahead to what I want instead. I have a warm home. I have all the proper accoutrements should I venture outside. What may seem standard to me, what is easy to take for granted, are in actuality blessings, and they are really all I need. I want to be a person who is content with what I have and where I am every day, who will be in a good mood and resist kvetching whatever the weather.
I think people often misconstrue happiness as an absence of any pain or discomfort, but that's not what it is at all. Happiness that depends on outside factors is happiness that fades fast. I believe that true happiness is a combination of acceptance of what is, trust in G-d, and working on myself in the meantime. These things cannot be shaken by a little Arctic blast.
To everything there is a season. If not for the dark and cold parts, there wouldn't be any new growth.
Stay warm,
cbg
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
Happy New Year
There are undoubtedly reasons why today and tomorrow have nothing to do with Jews or Judaism. January is named after the Roman god Janus, who was depicted as literally two-faced--one glancing back to the past, the other looking forward into the future. What we now know as the Gregorian calendar was preceded by the Julian calendar, instituted by one Julius Caesar after spending time in Cleopatra's Alexandria and learning about proper astronomy. While Caesar wanted to make the vernal equinox the start of the new year, he ceded to the objections of Senators who took office on January 1st according to the Roman civil calendar. Yes, politicians were just as self-involved back then.
In the 16th century, Pope Gregory XIII instituted further calendar reform and had no problem naming the new one after himself, even though most of the work had been done by his predecessor. Since this happened not long after the Reformation, many Protestants viewed the change as a conspiracy to suppress their beliefs, and it took decades or even centuries for countries with a non-Catholic majority to begin using the Gregorian calendar (The US, as British colonies, in 1752). As it turns out, the Vatican was thumbing its nose at the Jews, not the Protestants--one of the major catalysts for a new calendar was putting distance between Easter and Passover, a move initiated by the Council of Nicaea.
I would venture to guess that drinking too much on New Year's Eve is a tradition inherited from the Romans, a people who loved excess. So much so, in fact, that it was common to have a servant tickle one's throat at a banquet to make room for more food and alcohol. And you thought holding your friend's hair in college was gross.
And yet, the Jewish influence is there, because people also recognize the impending new year as a time to reflect, a chance to improve. Of course, it's a cliche that most resolutions don't stick, and I think Judaism can provide helpful insight on this. First, community is key. Modern-day experts back this up and say that making a goal with at least one other person stacks the odds in favor of success. Let's say your New Year's resolution is to go to the gym X times per week. Imagine everyone you know making the same goal. You open your prayer book, it's there. The topic is all over your favorite blogs. If you're wondering how the Jewish religion and people have remained intact for over three millenia, now you know. Community is how we do.
Next up, why on earth have you resolved to go to the gym? Speaking of the Romans, you know how we think everyone bathing together in public bathhouses was gross? I'm convinced future generations will feel the same about our gyms, and rightfully so. Let the record show that I am a woman ahead of my time and not just a germaphobe. In all fairness, some people actually do enjoy the camaraderie of grunting and sweating together. (Ew.) But those people, my dear, don't need to resolve to go. So what's really holding you back? Perhaps you're already decently active, and deep down, you sense that there is more to life than a perfect body. How wise you are. I'll also let you in on another secret the Jewish people have known for quite some time: If you're going to do something, make it beautiful. For myself, staying healthy and making it beautiful means ballet, tennis, and taking long walks. When I wanted to pray more, I moved on from my learning siddur to one whose words capture my heart. You get the picture. By all means, make the goal. Just know that there is nothing wrong with actually enjoying self-improvement.
So no, this is technically not my New Year. I'm still working on my Rosh Hashanah "resolutions." But seeing as I live in a country where it's celebrated, it's not a religious non-Jewish holiday, and I welcome any excuse to grow, I hereby resolve to do the following in 2014: Strive to be more down-to-earth, to be more grateful (to people and to G-d), and to be kinder. Lucky for me, I'm part of something that offers me 613 ways to achieve those goals.
Happy New Year!
cbg
P.S. I also decided to give up social media for 2014. If the withdrawal doesn't kill me first, I'll be blogging about it at some point for my friend Ruchi over at Out of the Ortho Box.
In the 16th century, Pope Gregory XIII instituted further calendar reform and had no problem naming the new one after himself, even though most of the work had been done by his predecessor. Since this happened not long after the Reformation, many Protestants viewed the change as a conspiracy to suppress their beliefs, and it took decades or even centuries for countries with a non-Catholic majority to begin using the Gregorian calendar (The US, as British colonies, in 1752). As it turns out, the Vatican was thumbing its nose at the Jews, not the Protestants--one of the major catalysts for a new calendar was putting distance between Easter and Passover, a move initiated by the Council of Nicaea.
I would venture to guess that drinking too much on New Year's Eve is a tradition inherited from the Romans, a people who loved excess. So much so, in fact, that it was common to have a servant tickle one's throat at a banquet to make room for more food and alcohol. And you thought holding your friend's hair in college was gross.
And yet, the Jewish influence is there, because people also recognize the impending new year as a time to reflect, a chance to improve. Of course, it's a cliche that most resolutions don't stick, and I think Judaism can provide helpful insight on this. First, community is key. Modern-day experts back this up and say that making a goal with at least one other person stacks the odds in favor of success. Let's say your New Year's resolution is to go to the gym X times per week. Imagine everyone you know making the same goal. You open your prayer book, it's there. The topic is all over your favorite blogs. If you're wondering how the Jewish religion and people have remained intact for over three millenia, now you know. Community is how we do.
Next up, why on earth have you resolved to go to the gym? Speaking of the Romans, you know how we think everyone bathing together in public bathhouses was gross? I'm convinced future generations will feel the same about our gyms, and rightfully so. Let the record show that I am a woman ahead of my time and not just a germaphobe. In all fairness, some people actually do enjoy the camaraderie of grunting and sweating together. (Ew.) But those people, my dear, don't need to resolve to go. So what's really holding you back? Perhaps you're already decently active, and deep down, you sense that there is more to life than a perfect body. How wise you are. I'll also let you in on another secret the Jewish people have known for quite some time: If you're going to do something, make it beautiful. For myself, staying healthy and making it beautiful means ballet, tennis, and taking long walks. When I wanted to pray more, I moved on from my learning siddur to one whose words capture my heart. You get the picture. By all means, make the goal. Just know that there is nothing wrong with actually enjoying self-improvement.
So no, this is technically not my New Year. I'm still working on my Rosh Hashanah "resolutions." But seeing as I live in a country where it's celebrated, it's not a religious non-Jewish holiday, and I welcome any excuse to grow, I hereby resolve to do the following in 2014: Strive to be more down-to-earth, to be more grateful (to people and to G-d), and to be kinder. Lucky for me, I'm part of something that offers me 613 ways to achieve those goals.
Happy New Year!
cbg
P.S. I also decided to give up social media for 2014. If the withdrawal doesn't kill me first, I'll be blogging about it at some point for my friend Ruchi over at Out of the Ortho Box.
Sunday, December 29, 2013
Xmas Makes Me Believe
I grew up believing in a lot of things. I believed that an overweight man in strange clothes spied on me throughout the year and then rewarded good behavior by breaking into my family's home through inexplicable means and leaving a pile of presents and a stocking of sweets. On a more serious note, I was raised to believe that the holiday was really all about the birth of a Jewish man, a story replete with details that required an even bigger leap of faith.
I thought that I would be leaving Xmas far behind by converting to Judaism, but I was wrong. There's no escaping it. Jews of all persuasions seem just as preoccupied with it as my goyishe family, though for different reasons. How do we prevent Jewish children from wanting Xmas? Are Xmas traditions for Chanukah ok, e.g. gifts or blue and white lights? How do I handle being wished "Merry Christmas"?
Being a Jewish convert during the holiday season is no easy feat, but I have come to believe Xmas can be used to strengthen my Judaism, not weaken it. I don't regard it as a coincidence that the Jewish holiday that commemorates resisting assimilation lands on the calendar right around the time everything gets hyper holly jolly.
People on both sides have a hard time believing I don't miss Xmas. It helps that I never had a tree in any of my residences after leaving home and I hate most of the music with a passion. That being said, it's easy to take things for granted when they're a regular part of your life. Several months after beginning my conversion studies, I approached my first Xmas warily. Would I feel a twinge of regret over giving all this up?
If I wasn't fully sure I had what it took to be a committed Jew, that first Xmas made me believe. In the art and fashion worlds, juxtaposition is often used to make certain details "pop." Xmas makes my Judaism "pop." The more I know what Judaism is, what I stand for, the less intimidated I am by Xmas. Pretty lights are pretty lights. Magic fades. Myths are outgrown. I choose to believe in miracles.
I believe in Judaism. I believe in its beauty and its strength; no need to gild the lily with traditions that aren't ours. I believe that giving my children an entire heritage is more important than giving them stuff. I believe in resisting assimilation and being proud to be different. I believe in the power of family, because I've remained close with mine despite giving up their holidays. I believe that Xmas is generally good for the world. I believe in my Judaism enough that I can say that. I believe that I can admire certain things about the holiday season, and still be happy and grateful that I left it behind and became a Jew. I believe all these things because of Xmas. It can be the best time of the year to be Jewish, believe me.
I thought that I would be leaving Xmas far behind by converting to Judaism, but I was wrong. There's no escaping it. Jews of all persuasions seem just as preoccupied with it as my goyishe family, though for different reasons. How do we prevent Jewish children from wanting Xmas? Are Xmas traditions for Chanukah ok, e.g. gifts or blue and white lights? How do I handle being wished "Merry Christmas"?
Being a Jewish convert during the holiday season is no easy feat, but I have come to believe Xmas can be used to strengthen my Judaism, not weaken it. I don't regard it as a coincidence that the Jewish holiday that commemorates resisting assimilation lands on the calendar right around the time everything gets hyper holly jolly.
People on both sides have a hard time believing I don't miss Xmas. It helps that I never had a tree in any of my residences after leaving home and I hate most of the music with a passion. That being said, it's easy to take things for granted when they're a regular part of your life. Several months after beginning my conversion studies, I approached my first Xmas warily. Would I feel a twinge of regret over giving all this up?
If I wasn't fully sure I had what it took to be a committed Jew, that first Xmas made me believe. In the art and fashion worlds, juxtaposition is often used to make certain details "pop." Xmas makes my Judaism "pop." The more I know what Judaism is, what I stand for, the less intimidated I am by Xmas. Pretty lights are pretty lights. Magic fades. Myths are outgrown. I choose to believe in miracles.
I believe in Judaism. I believe in its beauty and its strength; no need to gild the lily with traditions that aren't ours. I believe that giving my children an entire heritage is more important than giving them stuff. I believe in resisting assimilation and being proud to be different. I believe in the power of family, because I've remained close with mine despite giving up their holidays. I believe that Xmas is generally good for the world. I believe in my Judaism enough that I can say that. I believe that I can admire certain things about the holiday season, and still be happy and grateful that I left it behind and became a Jew. I believe all these things because of Xmas. It can be the best time of the year to be Jewish, believe me.
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