Month: November 2016

Winter Is Coming

/ howardshapiro / 11 Comments

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Winter is coming. I mean that literally. We spent Thanksgiving in the mountains of Western North Carolina and I had to use the defroster this morning to de-ice the windshield. As the days grow shorter, the leaves have returned to the earth. The sun is weaker; the night darker; the stars brighter and the trees declare there is strength in standing tall and firm against the shortened day.

Winter is coming. I mean that figuratively. It is the motto of the House of Stark in the Game of Thrones. The Lords of the North listen to the warnings that ride the whirling winds constantly vigilant of what might be coming. They know from darker days what can happen. How the laughter and the light can turn; how the life and love and liberty we presume to be inalienable can be snatched and taken. It is a time of watching, waiting, preparing, assessing: Are dark days coming?

Almost every email I receive from a variety of progressive, inclusive, liberal organizations I have supported in the past are warning me. They tell me that now more than ever, I need to donate to their cause. I hear their plea. The signs are less than positive and that is coming from this writer who the day after the election wrote give the President-elect a chance. The office just might make the man. And it might. It’s just that almost every appointment seems to confirm our fears. It’s just that we are correctly sensitive to images of white men raising their arms in prototypes of “Sig Heil” salutes. And I want my President whether I voted for him or not to condemn what that represents in the boldest, strongest, virulent form. It’s just that it hasn’t, yet – made the man.

Or I am not convinced. I don’t want to think it’s the end of the world, as we know it. After all lights are twinkling in the malls and shopping centers. Cars are being driven south in caravans a pilgrimage to the sun. We are doing everything we can to light up the dark. This waiting is hard.  It is not like other times.  Can’t just go through the day thinking the news will take care of itself. Had an email from a friend: If “they” set up a national registry for Muslims, we should all declare ourselves Muslim. I worry it is Vienna 1936.

It’s so easy to project the worst. We Jews do that well. Winter is coming. Time to get dressed for the cold.

 

That’s How The Light Gets In

/ howardshapiro / 8 Comments

leonard-cohen

I am not a music critic; I am not a poet. I feel totally inadequate to the task but I also feel compelled, obligated. I owe it to Leonard Cohen. His music has touched me so deeply and so often. So this will be from the heart but if you want a really complete and savvy commentary on Leonard Cohen try the professionals at Rolling Stone or your favorite source.

His words and music found a way into a deep part of me, even when I didn’t understand all the lyrics. But I could feel the pain; I could touch the sadness even the occasional despair. Lots of people describe his music as dark; I won’t argue. But I find an honesty there that resonates with me. It is an honesty that speaks about the limits we all struggle with: time that is finite; joy that is always incomplete no matter how satisfying and filling; longing, yearning never fully realized.

And yet I believe he lived his life abundantly and copiously, never afraid to search for more, for spiritual truth, for the physicality of love in Chelsea hotels and famous blue raincoats. I envy the courage to walk, run, crawl, climb whatever path opens before you. Conventions be dammed. Expectations be trashed. Bring it on.

I love how he fused his Judaism with his world and his work. No pandering or pampering, you had to work to get it. So many of his songs a midrash on Biblical themes, heroes and villains. I think of him as a true “cohen” – a descendant of ancient priests, a grandson of Rabbis. He stands on the generations that went before him: outstretched hands, fingers formed in blessing, shrouded by a prayer shawl of Hallelujah choruses, too powerful to look at, too holy to touch. I think life was like that for him.

For one of my birthdays, Eileen took me to his concert in Vegas and arranged for him to send me an autographed copy of his newest collection of poetry, “Book of Longing”.   It gives you a good sense of who he was and is (for me). Try this on

“Anyone who says

I’m not a Jew

Is not a Jew

I’m very sorry

But this decision

Is final.”

So filled with contradictions, so flawed, so stretching for perfection, so inventing and reinventing himself, his art, his music, his words, he lived profusely. That brings comfort and allows me to image him now in the light, for in his words: Ring the bells that still can ring. Forget your perfect offering. There is a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.

 

 

Red Seeds of Anger

/ howardshapiro / 12 Comments

red-map

We played bridge the other night and one of the times when I was dummy, I found myself at the kitchen sink opening a pomegranate and wondering if that is the right verb. You cut an apple; you peel a banana; you slice a peach or a pear. At any rate; I was knee deep in pomegranate juice hoping I wouldn’t stain my shirt as I was pulling and pushing out the succulent seeds hidden and tucked into the off white membrane. There were so many seeds; Jewish tradition counts six hundred and thirteen, each one corresponding to a Mitzvah, each one urging us to bring harmony and goodness into this world.

The juice was ruby red like the map of the United States on election night. By the way, you deseed a pomegranate; I just googled the instructions. It says to do it in a non-reactive bowl under water, minimizing the chance for permanent damage. That of course is my fear: that the seeds of anger and hatred that have been sown by the bitterness of the political campaign ending with a November surprise will stain our country. That the sweetness of the juice that surrounds these seeds will never realize their potential to do good and cleanse us with their anti-oxidant powers.

Am I being irrational; am I being an alarmist?  I feel I am allowing my disappointment to cloud my thinking but then again it is not all up to me. It is up to our President-Elect. Donald Trump will be our 45th. We have been in this business of electing presidents for over two hundred years. Some have been builders; some have been healers; some have inspired us; some have changed our very direction; some have been place holders; some have taught us to dream; some have shepherded us through times of terror and danger; some have disappointed; some have surprised. Time will tell.

You may call me naïve but until proven otherwise, I am choosing to have faith that the office will make the man. I apologize if that sounds a little condescending. He certainly understood the mood of so many in our country who were “done” with Washington. He certainly tapped into their disappointment, their anger and fear. He saw the unhappiness and unrest that the rest of us dismissed and ignored. So he is smart and savvy. He has proven that he has the ability to galvanize people in ways we never imagined. He has demonstrated that he understands America better than we do. Shame on us!

I am also choosing to hope that he will find a way to unite us. There is no place for triumphalism here. (OK – you can have your five minutes.) But what the election showed us is a fractured country. What the election showed us is a deep-seated anger. We need to heal. We need to come together. We need to mend. We need a government that governs and is of the people, for the people and by the people. That is our task and that is my prayer.