Author: howardshapiro

Living Between the Cracks

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As I was hiking the High Falls Loop in Dupont Forest this morning, I listened to one of my go-to podcasts about Israel. Produced by the Hartman Institute, it is called “For Heaven’s Sake” – Israel at War Day 284. The hosts were discussing what normalcy means at this time in Israel. Somewhere on the walk, they used the phrase “living between the cracks” and I thought this did not just apply to Israel. It is what we all are doing – living and making the most of what we have and who we are ignoring or skipping over the cracks in the sidewalk we call the world today.

I really don’t know where to begin – the former President who denies that he lost the election is running to become president again surviving an assassination attempt by inches; the sitting President who has a fifty-year record of public service is bowing out of the race to serve four more years and no one really knows the real story there. (Except I wouldn’t be fair or honest if I didn’t let you know that I am in awe of his willingness to let go of the reins of power and praise him for thinking of the country first. No matter what the motivation and forces that made this decision. I admire him and wish more politicians put country first. And yeah…. It wasn’t a quick or easy decision, and it did look like for a time that the trappings of power were too seductive to ever let go – but he did the right thing. And hopefully his legacy will reflect that.)

 The current Vice-President, a woman of color, seems to be on track to cement the Democratic presidential nomination. If successfully winning the presidency she will become the first woman president and it is probably about time. It’s not like all the kings’ men have been consistently effective. From my perspective, it is probably also the right time to celebrate the multi-cultural demographics of our country. From my perspective, we are not a White Christian Country. And there of course is the rub and the challenge and the pitfalls. Change is hard for us all and change is necessary – without change there is no growth.

When I came home from my hike I sat on the porch and put on my Spotify liked songs. One of them is “Try to Remember.” The lyrics are so another generation and a different world. Can you imagine someone writing a contemporary song with the line: “Try to remember when life was so tender that no one wept except the willow…”

No one wept except the willow. I weep for the callousness; I weep for the vitriol and violence; I weep for lies and I weep that it is hard to know who or whom to trust and what we call the news on one station is opinion on another. And I pray we can collectively come out of this whole – a united states – with a new face looking forward. And out of the cracks will grow a new tomorrow.

I Am Lord of Memory*

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Eileen and I went to see Judy Collins the other night at the Brevard Music Center. She confidently walked on stage in a bright pink long dress with a black sequenced jacket. She proudly announced that she was 85 and from mid orchestra she was looking good. She peppered the concert with a lot of good stories and corny jokes. One of the many things I did not know about her was the relationship she and Leonard Cohen had. She credits him with “pushing” her to write her own songs and throughout the concert sang many of his more esoteric pieces. The concert was delayed for a half hour because of serious thunder and lightening but 2000 people still showed up even some June bugs or fireflies. They flashed in the dark as so many of us celebrated this night of memory.   

One of the Leonard Cohen songs she sang was “Priests”. It’s an elusive and mysterious song/poem about love, memory, loss – all that is holy. I went online to try and put the lyrics into one complete and cogent paragraph. I failed. For me it is the wedding of the haunting melody with the words; it is the marriage of the lyrics with the melody to my own memories.

This all came home to me yesterday when I learned that my friend and colleague, Rabbi Fred Pomerantz died. I knew he was having health issues, but he wasn’t supposed to die. I don’t know whether he loved being a jazz musician first and a Rabbi second or there was no way to separate the two. He was a drummer and the beat of his life and career were intermingled with great joy and deep pain. This is not the place to eulogize him, but it is the place to remember the intersection of our lives from Cincinnati to Closter. It was filled with laughter and tears, it was complete with searching and finding, questions about how to live so that the days of our lives didn’t become material for a soap opera. He was creative, funny and unique all in the service of our people and our Judaism.

Judy Collins isn’t that much older than Freddy or me. She stood on that stage for over an hour and a half and amazed me with her stamina. Sure, she had cliff notes; sure, she turned to her musical director to ask him for details she temporarily forgot; sure her voice has changed. But that’s life – it is all about change – nothing remains the same – and nothing can be taken for given or granted. And it was refreshing to be with her as she proudly celebrated who she was at this stage of living.

Between Judy and Fred it reminded me that no matter how old or how young, our challenge is to make a sacred noise, to sound the bells, to beat the drums, to hear the music of Divinity or the Universe pulsing through our cells. The challenge is to love it all; appreciate the moment; grow the good; minimize the bad; celebrate the remembered and forgotten. Be all you can be even when it isn’t all you were.

Right Freddy?

*From “Priests” by Leonard Cohen

Happy Anniversary

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Dear Gentle Reader,

(To borrow a phrase from Lady Witherspoon of Bridgerton fame.)

You might remember my finding a stack of sermons in our storage unit all typed (like on an electric typewriter) on 5 X 7 cards – mostly green, some blue, all of them pre-word processing days from the mid-70’s to the early 90’s. They are mostly High Holy Day sermons and tend to have some common themes.

Here are some general impressions. They are too long and tend to be repetitive. They are inconsistent but some are brave, and some are foolish, and all try really hard to be relevant, some succeed. They are also incredibly “chutzpadik”. Who am I to be saying these things? Who am I?

Take the one about “Love and Marriage.” I didn’t date a lot of these sermons but in researching the books or articles I quote I think this one is from the mid-70’s. That means I was in my mid-thirties and had been married for maybe ten years. What the ……. did I know about love or marriage?

But it did begin with a great Chasidic story about two boys who used to like playing Rebbe when their father (the Rebbe) was taking a Shabbat afternoon nap. They would take turns and critique each other’s ability to model their father when he counseled people who came for advice. This time the congregant was asking his Rebbe about marriage as he recounted the quality of his relationship with his spouse. At the end of the play acting, the son who was playing the Rebbe asked his brother to critique his “performance”. His brother said: “You did great, and you said all the right things, but you forgot the most important piece of any Chasidic session. Abba (dad) always began with a sigh – all Chasidic stories must begin with a long, slow, deeply felt sigh.

And so it is. Today is Eileen and my anniversary. And I think a sigh is appropriate – the sigh that slows us down and invites us to reflect on the days and years of our marriage. The sigh that admits not every day was perfect but year after year we turned our challenges into blessings. 

Sighs come in many variations. There is the sigh that says: here we go again. Life has a way of repeating lessons unlearned. And it is hard to change; it is easy to fall back on old habits and ways. It is easy to point your index finger at and forget that there are three others pointing back at you. It is easy to forget the word of the day in a marriage is “us”.

You are probably getting the wrong impression here. Another sigh. We have and we are blessed. Not only with children and grandchildren who are a constant source of joy and pride. Not only with relatively good health given our years. Not only with affluence and influence and meaningful roles we played in society. Not only with people who love us and people we love. Not only with laughter and joy and even sorrow and loss – but most of all, we are blessed with each other in good times and bad times, in the work we do when we say: I love you.

 

                                                                                                   

 

Father’s Day

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I decided to get my walk in early this Father’s Day morning and let Spotify create a playlist for me. The computer decided “Forever Young” would be a good first song and did it know how ironic the choice was? This is the saying amongst my peer group: “Growing old isn’t for cissies.”  Ain’t that the truth, though I am blessed to be relatively healthy at this moment of my growing older. (Not that you would know it from the number of pills I count out each night and morning.) When I ended my hike, the algorithm had me at “Papa Was A Rollin Stone.” If you don’t know the song, it is about an absentee father, “wherever he laid his hat was his home and when he died, all he left us was alone,”

It got me to thinking about my father. His name was Charlie and when my mother and he were having a loving moment, she used to call him Sir Charles and he called her, Lady Marilyn (her middle name). In my memory, those moments weren’t as many as we would have liked them to be. My father worked hard all his life. He was a pharmacist who had his own drug store before I was born and then worked as a pharmaceutical rep and subbed several nights and weekend days in a drug store in Waltham, Mass. I remember him compounding meds and measuring potions with great care. I also remember him letting me play at being a soda jerk at the fountain where I made a great Lime Rickey. He catered to my mother during her illnesses. But after his car accident on the Maine Turnpike which put him in the hospital in a coma in Lewiston, Maine where we spent an upside-down Passover waiting to see if he would regain consciousness, there was an angry side of him that surfaced.

They say you are supposed to be slow to anger and quick to forgive. He struggled with that, and if I am honest, so do I (the quick to forgive part.) But I’m not going to talk about me – I’m going to remember the moment before my father’s funeral when we were alone in the chapel and Eileen took out three cigars from her pocketbook and placed them inside his coffin. You see my father never went anywhere without a cigar. The smell of cigar smoke, no matter what quality, brings me right back to him. And to the affable, personable salesman with a trunk full of samples that he felt were meant to be shared.

I took the picture above early in my walk this morning. The Lake is calm; the bullrushes (is that what you call them?) are straight and strong. The waters and the sky reflect each other in peace. So may it be with us.

What a World

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I don’t know why or how I got hooked on Rufus Wainwright’s music. Maybe it’s because he covers a lot of Leonard Cohen. Yesterday morning on my almost daily walk, I really listened to the words of Wainwright’s “Oh What a World.” It fit my mood as I tried to keep my mind from wandering away from the beauty and serenity of the world I was walking through. But it didn’t really work. (My mind that is.)

“Oh, what a world it seems we live in. … Why am I always on a plane or a fast train. Oh, what a world my parents gave me ….  Always traveling but not in love … Men reading fashion magazines … Wouldn’t it be a lovely headline? Life is beautiful on the New York Times….

We are home from Israel, and it is time to make a photo book that tries to capture the deeply touching experience of being there in these days and at this time. Everyone has put their favorite photos in a shared album and Sammy, and I are tasked with selecting those which will make it onto the pages of the book. There are all kinds of decisions to make: size; matte; glossy; lay flat; design by computerized algorithm or do it yourself or pay an extra fee to have a personalized live human consultant or even a hybrid where you use their templates. We are hybrid all the way although there is a great chat option where you can ask a real human how to …..

Which brings me back to “Oh What a World.” Sometimes I think we are on a fast train to destruction, and I wonder what kind of world we are giving to our children and grandchildren. Sometimes as I listen to the news or watch the network half hour, I say the last five minutes of “America Strong” isn’t enough. The plane we are on flies so high we can’t see that the grass is green and that green isn’t just one color. We call them shades cause I think we need to categorize everything. Trying to make sense of the beautiful chaos of nature.

And then this morning – “Four Hostages rescued alive in Gaza operation, Israel says.” (That’s The Washington Post.) Or “Israel’s Military Says It Rescued Four Hostages.” (That’s the NYT.) Maybe I am prejudiced (I am). I don’t see all the qualifiers when it comes to reporting how many died in an Israeli strike on Gaza. It is always a UN School but you have to read below the fold to find out that it was a haven for a Hamas unit.

I know I am rambling. I guess the theme is “Oh What a World.”

But right now, I am sticking with the rescue and return of the four hostages. That’s a photo for our book and another reason to love Israel.

Israel Diaries 7

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Images

I’d love to write a profound column this morning (that’s probably a little presumptuous as if any of these diaries are even close)- But yesterday Eileen and I let the group do their own thing and we hung out for part of the day with friends. It was great to catch up and listen to their perspectives of the situation here. They are in opposition to the way the current government is conducting the war and believe strongly there needs to be elections. In their view israel needs to take the risks that Blinken and Biden are proposing, forging ties with the Saudis and Egyptians and cementing a plan for the day after the war ends and the hostages come home. Yes it is a risk. Yes it is not foolproof. But neither is the status quo. Here is a statement we heard day after day, Israel lost the war on October 7th. That doesn’t mean that the Israel we love and are proud of is a lost cause. It means there needs to be new strategies and a new and different way to insure the survival and prosperity of the only Jewish state in the world. I am really over my head here so I am going to stop now and let you see through a few pictures why I love this country and its people so much.

The “Squad“
Bedouin host
In the Machtesh
Ask me
Swimming pool at Mitzpeh.Ramon Hotel
Ask Eileen
Kibbutz Nir Oz Before
Kibbutz Nir Oz After
Caesarea
All of Us
Jerusalem Landscape from Yad Vashem

Israel Diaries 8

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At the Mount of Olives

Waze was having a tough time finding a better route to the airport. There was a demonstration on the road. Every Saturday night, as Shabbat ends, they begin to gather. Drums, signs, flags, young, old: Make a Deal Now; Bring Them Home Now. All the vehicles were being channeled into one lane as the demonstrators made their way to the residence of the Prime Minister. We were eventually returned to our hotel and sent to the airport through East Jerusalem. No worries (except we did) and we got to the airport on time. Of course the VAT office on the main floor was closed but it seems there is always some reason you can’t get your Value Addeed Tax refunded. I hope my donation goes to a good cause.

But back to the demonstration. This what I love about Israelis. There is a concept of civic engagement and a belief that your voice is important. You can make a difference no matter how much the cards are stacked against you through a convoluted and probably outdated political system. They are not alone -we have our own peculaarities in our democracy: think Electoral College and the lunacy that winning the majority vote doesn’t guarantee one the Presidency.

We came in hard times. Don’t think we didn’t think twice about postponing. There were plenty of reasons to do so including United Airlines cancelling all our flights two days before we were supposed to leave. But we couldn’t have come at a more important moment. Time after time people thanked us for being there. They need to feel and see our support. I am not talking politics when I say “support”. I mean Jew to Jew – people to people – you are not alone.

So I am going to leave you with that enigmatic picture above. According to Google the letters are in Mandarin Chinese and mean “Jesus Is”. They are Christian pilgrims following the footsteps of Jesus. A few moments later, they took out their shofars blowing long and loud blasts with an admirable amount of expertise. Some lay on the ground; several had visible tears. It was surreal and also reassuring.

Just like our visit. It was a hard time, a strange time, an important time, a sad time. Leaving Israel with lots of questions and a fear for the future but with love and hope and most of all the blessing of having been together three generations – what a gift.

Israel Diaries 6

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The Crater

We spent the last two days at Mitzpeh Ramon, overlooking the “Machtesh”. I always thought that meant crater and that it was formed as a result of a meteorite hitting the earth. Our jeep tour guide corrected me and explained the geological origins of this amazingly beautiful moonscape. The gold and red and green and white layers of the cliffs, the brownish rocks the consistency of dark chocolate all add to the surreal landscape. If I were really good at all of this, I could remember why and how the area became what it is; having something to do with tectonic plates, water, erosion, time and heat. But that’s as good as it gets right now.

But the highlight of the day was our Bedouin lunch with camel ride. Although they aren’t camels, we were reminded. Camels have two humps; these are dromedaries with one. They are taller and can run faster than camels and are found in Africa and the Middle East. Two hump camels live in Central Asia. Getting on the dromedary was its own challenge, but I surprised Noam (our guide) that I could do it on my own. But I digress.

He made us a great lunch. Sitting on cushions with pillows in front of round tables our common plates were filled with the most moist and delicious chicken over rice with roasted onions, potatoes, sweet and regular. I would have loved the recipe but I’m not sure the Landmark would let me dig a hole 3 feet deep, add hot coals to the bottom, cover the dish wrapped in foil, and fill it so that the heat of the earth and the embers cooks it for four hours. 

I really wanted to write about our Bedouin host. He is one of 300,000 Bedouin’s who live in the Negev and most if not all are loyal to the State of Israel. He chooses to live a traditional Bedouin lifestyle but is proud of the contributions the Bedouin community makes to the IDF. He was and is appalled by what Hamas did on October 7th but echoed our prayers that together with strength and hope we will find a common future.

The day ended with star gazing and a bonfire – (with s’mores minus the graham cracker and chocolate bar). Not everything is about the war. Sometimes it’s roasting marshmallows as you look at the night sky.

Israel Diaries 5

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Lighting Tomorrow

It’s a Long Drive

We left Tel Aviv and headed south again. This time away from the coast and Gaza and into the Negev. The surroundings turned beige and dusty green. The city to our right was Beersheva; we were headed to the Research Center at Ramat HaNegev as the sun became more and more demanding.

The center is one of those miracle makers. It seeks ways to improve agricultural processes in the desert. One of their specialties is cherry tomatoes – the kind that pop in your mouth with the sweet juices of growth, the kind that if you bite off a piece you are guaranteed to have tomato juice on your shirt a stain of honor. But there is more. There is a strawberry story and an electric power grid story. A million mirrors facing a tower reflecting light to create heat and then steam, powering the generators so that with the other two solar methods they provide four percent of the national power needs. But I am not a scientist so the most scientific truth in this paragraph is that the tomatoes were delicious.

It was a healthy antidote to the day before when the stories we heard didn’t point to the future but were a reflection of what happened on October 7th and what didn’t. Our contact person at Kibbutz Nir Oz was Yiftach. His anger against the government and failures of the IDF were stunning. (Like in a stun gun, the shock going right through you.). His description of what occurred and the visuals of the burnt houses seared your soul. His recounting of the brutality of Hamas competed with his deep and raging questions directed against the Israeli political and military establishment. It was not the Israel story we grew up with.

But I can’t leave you there. From the kibbutz we went to the site of the Nova Festival. There is little festive there but there is hope. Look up the heroism of an Israeli Bedouin police officer who saved hundreds of lives that morning. His name is Ramo Alhuzeil and he saved many scores of young participants by “commandeering “ a car and driving back and forth into the slaughter at considerable risk to his own life. Look up his name and learn what the word hero means.

I want to go back to the research center and the solar power plant and even the tomatoes. It is hard to make miracles in the desert. It is hard to know what the Israel of tomorrow will look like. But I believe in hope and in miracles, and I believe in the power of the collective us. I believe in the light that is the Jewish people. Together we will prevail.

Israel Diaries 4

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Our security guard put on Tefillen.

We are on our way to the Gaza Envelope. That means we are visiting the sites that were directly attacked by Hamas on October 7th. They are within miles of the Gaza border. We have Rafael (our security guard) with us today; we have helmets with us today; we have had a security briefing on what happens if there is a red alert. (Siren that warns of incoming mortar or missles). Perhaps I am totally naive, but I am not overly anxious.

Why are we going? To learn; to bear witness; to show solidarity; to understand what was and what is; to experience a small piece of the nightmare of 10.7. As we were driving down from Tel Aviv, Rafael put on a Kippah and Tefillin. My guess is that Rafael is in his twenties; when Eileen was introduced to him, she said, “You’re too cute to be a security guard.”  I am going to try and ask him how he identifies religiously.

It is many hours and many experiences and many tears, anger and laughter later. We are back at our hotel in Tel Aviv. I need time to process it all. Our first stop was Kibbitz Nir Oz and then the Nova Festival Site. Both were ground zero for the morning of October 7th and visiting them you mourn, remember, witness the pain and have too many unanswered questions.

At the end of the day, we visited an Army base, home of the engineer corps of the IDF. They asked us not to take pictures of their faces or parts of the base. They are responsible for exploring, discovering and clearing the tunnels in Gaza. We walked through one of their training facilities and provided and shared a barbecue dinner. The picture above is one of the volunteer cooks and me. Quite an experience and a better way to end our day – showing our appreciation and gratitude to these young men and women who are on the front line defending Israel and us.

There are signs all over Israel: We Are Stronger Together.

 






















































































































































 

 

ISRAEL DIARY 3

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Hostage

NOW

We began the day in Jaffa; port; alleys; church; Peter; Jonah; Market – a simple way to start our journey. The skies were blue; the air was dry; welcome to Israel in May. But the day would not end as it began with basic truths and Bible stories and a man with a mission to spread the Jesus story to Rome (Peter) and a man running from God calling him to proclaim the truth of repentance and forgiveness to Nineveh (Jonah).

The stuff of life.

And then we drove to South Tel Aviv and Maayan took us on a Graffiti tour all of which were created since October 7th. Powerful stuff. She asked us to post this one.

The UN’s Refusal to See, Speak or Hear

Of the sexual violence committed by Hamas against the women then and probably still now. There is so much to say about the courage and creativity of these artists. Another day.

We ended our day with a briefing at the Headquarters of the Hostages Families Forum. They advocate for the kidnapped and abducted and care for the families of the hostages financially, emotionally, physically, and in any way that they can. We heard from two members of different hostage families. Daniel Lifschitz whose grandfather is 83 years old and is still sitting in a tunnel or cell somewhere in Gaza or worse and Gilad Korngold, father of Tal Shoham whose son was abducted with his wife, two children and other members of his family. All but Tal were released in a Hostage deal. Tal is still in captivity.

You can’t imagine the power of their stories. You can’t believe the words you are hearing. Your brain processes the narratives; your heart just breaks. It was a profoundly powerful introduction to Israel post 10/7. Each hostage is a hole in Israel’s soul. There is a sense of loss and betrayal. There is anger against their government and the nation player states that do not demand from Hamas a return of the innocent. I could go on but there is still tomorrow and other stories and an Israel that is the home of a people connected to this land, building and rebuilding from the past a future of hope. Look for Israel Diary 4. But for now:

Bring them home – now.

Israel Diaries 2

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Israel Diary 2

 

Under Their Vines

It is early in the morning (like I mean middle of the night), and I thought that by sleeping till 6:30 AM yesterday I had conquered the jet lag. Hubris. I actually played a game with myself when I woke a bit ago; I guessed what time it was without looking at the clock and I agreed to be satisfied if it was past 4:00. I lost.

The rest of our crew arrived yesterday at various times. They spent the morning sleeping and we went to visit an old friend who used to live in Nahariya and is now in a “Mishan” (Assisted Living Residence) in Ramat Aviv, just outside of Tel Aviv. She Is a textile artist and specialized in Judaica. We discovered each other when we were searching for someone to create a wall hanging in memory of Eileen’s mother, Beatrice. When we shared with Adina Bea’s life and her values and told her that Bea’s Hebrew name was Brachah (Blessing), she proposed to create a piece that incorporated the prayer for peace that includes as part of the text her Hebrew name. The prayer’s text is surrounded by vine and fig leaves as in “And everyone shall dwell under their own vine and fig tree, and none shall make them afraid.” (Micah 4:4). It hangs on the north wall of Temple Israel’s sanctuary.

The weather is beautiful in Tel Aviv. So we sat outside on her patio only big enough for two chairs and a table – but there was room for a small garden between the privacy wall and the patio. There was a vine growing. It looked like zucchini to me but Adina who had only lived there for 3 months thought it might be watermelon. We agreed we would just have to wait and see.

And that is somewhat the mood among so many of the Israelis we have met. It is a wait and see but live your life praying for peace and unafraid, at least on the outside. The beaches of Tel Aviv are full of young people playing soccer and soccer volleyball, running, surfing, enjoying life. The restaurants are full even if the hotels are not. This may be an observation that is skewered by my living in Palm Beach County but I have seen more pregnant women in our two days here than I see in a month in WPB. And there seems to me to be pride in their swelling bellies almost a statement about the future.

Tomorrow we meet our tour guide and head start our “tour”. We will be in Jaffa; we will be examining the grafiti wall art that has been created since October 7; we will be in Hostage Square meeting with families; we will welcome Shabbat there and pray again for a better future.

Let’s see if I can go back to sleep.