Who will be the Zaydes of our children?

When I was a kid, there was a Jewish folk group that sang Yinglish music (i.e. Jewish-themed songs in English, with the ocassional Hebrew or Yiddish word thrown in for effect). The group's name was the Megama Duo (Moshe Yess, a violinist, was the more famous half), and one of their songs that resonates with me the most is a song called My Zayde. Zayde is the Yiddish word for Grandpa. The lyrics of My Zayde talk about how the Zayde in the family was the center of Yiddish life, and how, after his death, the family 'just stopped being Jewish like my Zayde was' and descended into secular Judaism. However, the very last line of the song signals a return to Judaism:

Many years have come and gone
and now my own children sit in front of me?
Who will be the Zayde of my children?
Who will be the Zayde if not me?

While the message might be talking directly to born-again Jews, this message has always spoken to me. G-d created everyone of us with free choice, and even though we all come from different backgrounds, we have to choose to become the Zayde for our own children. We not only need to make a concious decision to be religious ourselves but also to live a lifestyle that impresses on our children so that they live that way as well.

But sadly, there is one aspect of being a Zayde as embodied in the song, that none of us, no matter how Zaydesque we become, can ever achieve - being a survivor of the holocaust. In the song, the Zayde imparts his experiences at the hands of the Nazis, and how he was persecuted just for simply being a Jew.

While my grandparents were not survivors themselves, I always cherished and relished the moments that those survivors that I was fortunate enough to meet told me their stories. The partisans, the camp escapees and survivors, the hidden jews. Each one was spared from certain death and witnessed ultold destruction. How many had lost all that they had - not just posessions, not just parents and siblings, but spouses and children. While I loved and cherished my own Bubbies and Zaydes in their lifetime, these people, over time, became my Bubbies and Zaydes too. These are the people that I think about when I read the Av Harachimim prayer (which recalls the sacrifice of all those that perished simply for being Jewish) before Mussaf on every Saturday. These are the people whose faces dance before my eyes whenever I think about the holocaust.

Holocaust rememberance day, which was commerated this past Tuesday, presents an opportunity for each of us to reflect and remember. Even though the number of survivors still walking on this earth becomes fewer and fewer with each passing year, I can still reflect upon my memories and those that shared them with me, even if they have passed on. But what about my children? Who will be their Zaydes? Who will help them internalize what happened and put a human face on the holocaust?

Thankfully there are many organizations out there that have recorded the testimony of these survivors for the next generation. While it may not be as good as meeting the people that were there first hand, it will preserve Zaydes for many more years to come.

May the souls of the 6 Million Jews, and all those others who were persecuted by the Nazis simply because they were different, rest on a higher plateau in heaven, and may G-d avenge their blood.

A Nice Jewish Catholic School Graduate

I was excited to find out that one of the stars of the Women's NCAA Champion Maryland Terps is Shay Doron - an Israeli.

Then I found out that she took uh... shall we say, unorthodox, path to the Final Four - she went to high school at a catholic high school basketball powerhouse.

It's a shame that there aren't any Yeshivas that put people in the NCAA. But then again, the focus of a Yeshiva should be education, and not basketball. Still, with what tuition costs these days, maybe we need to work on another avenue of getting scholarships for our kids.

The Five Minute Scholar

As a kid, I distinctly remember hearing the story of the five-minute torah scholar. I can't remember the name of the great torah scholar that this story was attributed to, but the story went something like this:

A great Rabbi was once asked by a benefactor "How long did it take you to become such a great scholar?" "Five minutes," was the Rabbi's answer, "but not just any five minutes - but the five minutes you would otherwise waste - just sitting around, or waiting in line. Everyone was content to let those five minutes slip, but I maximized those five minutes in that I also studied Torah during that time. Over time, those five minutes add up, and that has made me the scholar that I am today."

Think of how true this is. Imagine if we found ways to maximize our daily idle time with prouctivity. Our commute could become a learning experience, or we could learn a language while lounging. Our life would take on a whole new dimension and we might find ways to get more things done - if only we harnessed those five minutes of time that we would have otherwise piddled away.

Of course, let's say we try this, and discover how much we can learn in 5 minutes a day. At the end of the week it becomes evident how much we have learned and we begin to wonder how much we could actually learn if we actually set aside time to learn each day and how much more we can grow. Will there ever be an end? We will find ourselves on a journey down the path of self-improvement, and to think that it all started with a 5-minute walk.

Through a child's eyes...

Today (well tomorrow, depending on your perspective) is Purim. Purim is probably one of the most joyous days on the Jewish Calendar, but unfortunately somehow, it's meaning and joy has been lost to so many including, to some extent, myself. Maybe it suffers because it seemingly falls in middle of the week and since it is a day where work is allowed, many opt to work on Purim. Maybe it is because of its position relative to Passover - (Moshe Yess, a Jewish Folk Singer, has a song stating that Jewish Mothers hate Purim because it means that Passover is only four weeks away). In any case, I am not sure how much I have 'felt' Purim in the last few years, until watching my son at the megillah reading.

Mitch was so excited and ecstatic. He eagerly waited for each utterance of Haman's name and when it came he jumped up and down with his Gragger (Haman, is the antagonist of the Book of Esther - a.k.a. the Megillah, and it is customary to 'blot out' his name by making noise as the person reading the megillah recites it. A Gragger is a Yiddish word for noisemaker). It is hard to describe the look on his face, but it was a combination of intensity, excitement and joy - yes pure joy.

Maybe that is what I am missing. Maybe the stresses of being a Dad and a Husband and and Orthodox Jew have taken some of the fun away. But just looking at my son, and feeling the sense of pride and accomplishment in his joy for this small piece of our tradition and history put some of the joy back in it for me too, and in turn, made the megillah reading a lot more personal and special.

I guess the moral of this story is that every so often we should all take time to stop and shake our Graggers.

Kavanah

I have been thinking a lot about Kavanah lately. Kavanah is a Hebrew term that is used to refer to the meaning and focus one has in prayer. Kavanah literally means 'direction' - as with everything in life, prayer needs a direction or focus to be meaningful. It is interesting that many Jews view prayer as lines read out of a Hebrew textbook - whether or not you understand their meaning - and don't try to focus on the meaning of the words to find parallels to their own lives.

At the same time, there are those that pray in the classic sense - that is, they give thanks for their lives and request for their needs, but somehow ignore the liturgy as they don't see the relevance. While they may not have the textbook elements of prayer, their prayers are potentially more meaningful because of the personal element.

Don't get me wrong - I am not, heaven forbid, discounting the value of our liturgy, but
I think that both of these approaches are lacking. Many years ago in college I met someone who made me realize that their are many Jews out their who are connected with Judaism spiritutally and culturally but not ritually. While I think that it is great that all Jews find a connection to our religion and to G-d, I ultimately came to this realization - the spiritual and ritual practices of Judaism combine to form their own equilibrium. While the balance will be different for most people, one is useless without the other, and that, during prayer, is where Kavanah comes in.

As I pray, I try to focus on the words set out by our great sages of centuries ago, and fit their meaning to my everyday life. To help you visualize this imagine you have a document in a language that you can't read, and you ask two friends of yours to translate it for you independent of one another. It is more than likely that their translations will differ at least a little bit - even if they have similar backgrounds and levels of fluency in that language. Why does this happen? Because their translation includes their perspective as well. And, IMVHO, so must your understanding of the prayers you say.

Well-Suited!

A couple of weeks ago, I was getting my son's clothes together to get him dressed for shul. In our neighborhood, kids typically don't dress too formally - a nice sweater and khakis are perfectly acceptible - which is a stark contrast from my parents' and in-laws' neighborhoods, where parents tend to dress their kids a little more formally.

As I was looking for a pair of pants in his closet, I noticed a sports jacket we had bought him a while ago that he had never worn. I tried it on him and it fit perfectly. Here he was, my little man in the suit jacket (tie too!), all of a sudden he seemed so grown up. Which is the reaction all of our friends had. Since then, he wants to wear his jacket and tie every week (just like daddy).

The dry-cleaner is very happy.

Dick Cheney, Expert Marksman

Okay, so every blogger, news site, and all of their siblings are posting articles about Dick Cheney. I for one, don't want to join into the fray, save for these three points:

1. If he can shoot that well by accident, why don't we send him to Iraq?
2. If this is what he does to friends, imagine what he does to his enemies?
3. Am I the only one who finds it ironic that a member of both Bush administrations as well as a close confidant and friend of the Bush family is out hunting for Quayle! (oops! you mean its not spelled that way? I must not have had my Potatoe this morning).