Sacred

Yellow Blossoms & Matzah Crumbs

/ howardshapiro / 4 Comments

Image 4-7-16 at 11.20 AMI like April. It is Purim behind, Passover in front and Easter floating somewhere in between, tied to the first full moon after light and darkness halve the day. Esther averts her people from pending destruction; Moses leads the Israelite slaves on a journey to a promised land; Jesus becomes more than anyone thought he could be: salvation, deliverance, redemption.

I like April. It is National Poetry Month and every day I receive a new poem in my mailbox. They humble me these poems like todays by Robin Coste Lewis. The author restricts her words to fragments of book titles, catalog and exhibit entries in which a Black female figure is represented. She brings us a meditation on race and a record of a different kind of journey through time and place, also one of promise but like almost all, still unfulfilled.

I like daffodils fighting to break through winters hard and unforgiving crust demanding we will be born again; dogwood trees blossoming stark white against the deep dark bark. And for those of you who are Florida averse and complain you miss the seasons, driving home yesterday, I caught this Tabebuia trumpeting hints of grace and salvation just next to the curb. They like to drop their leaves in March and early April, replacing them with these brilliant yellow flowers. We had one once but for all its splendor ours blew over in a storm, either the roots too shallow or the wood too brittle. There is a price to pay for almost everything, including beauty.

I like this holiday of spring that calls on me to renew myself. I like searching for the parts of me I think could be better. I like the questions that spiritual work engenders. There are at least four. It brings me to Passover and all its symbolism and rituals; it brings me to Passover and all its rules about which way I lean and what I can eat. This year it is really late – I know the lunar calendar verses the solar and the need to add an extra month to the Hebrew calendar so that holidays hang in there on time and Passover doesn’t migrate across the years to mid summer. But this year I appreciate the extra time it is giving me. It feels like there is breathing room to prepare for the Seder with all its directions and instructions.

“Break the middle Matzah in half.” How did they know that’s impossible?  There is always inequity. And they take that reality and make it work – save the larger piece for the Afikomen, a sacred game of hide and seek. That broken piece of Matzah is well over half the world who are still waiting for us to find them and help them become whole. That ridged, perforated, flat excuse for bread commands us not only to remember that we were slaves but also to act, to care, to reach out in compassion for those whose lives are still embittered

The yellow tree is poetry; it is Passover; it is a promise of potential. The winter is gone; new life is blossoming. Indifference to the myriad of plagues that flood our inbox need not be a permanent affliction. We have power; we can change tomorrow; we can do it one matzah crumb at a time; just picking up the pieces and remembering – this year we are slaves; next year may we all be free.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

God Thoughts

/ howardshapiro / 11 Comments

flower windI just read three stunning sentences. They made me stop and reflect on how they are calling to me. They are from a book that my friend and co-teacher Tom O’Brien recommended. We were preparing for our class (God, Politics and Culture) at Florida Atlantic University’s Life Long Learning Society and we were talking about “The Problem of God”.

We were asking, what does the word, God, mean? The problem is when people proudly say; ‘I don’t believe in God”, something inside me wants to respond and sometimes does: “Which God do you not believe in?” More often than not, I don’t believe in that God either.

The book is called, “A God That Could Be Real” by Nancy Ellen Abrams. Here are the sentences: “Has something terrible ever happened to you or to someone you love? God had nothing to do with it; God doesn’t control events. God influences how we see the events and interpret them.”

Maybe out of context they are not as stunning as I thought they were. But this is what they said to me. This world is hanging on by a thread. There is so much violence, anger and terror. Perfectly innocent people get killed at a moment’s notice as they fly home from snorkeling in the Red Sea, as they walk near a mall in Beirut, as they wait for AAA by the side of their car in Florida, as they sit in a classroom in their University, as they attend a concert in Paris, because they are black, because they are white, because they are women, because their gender identification calls them to dress differently, or for no good or bad reason at all. And it is not God’s fault. “God has nothing to do with it.”

So what does God do if God doesn’t hang out there in the universe moving people, clouds and planets? And why is it important anyway? Because people are getting killed in God’s name (again); because people are using what they call religion to justify evil behavior (again); because people and politicians find that the God word is a convenient excuse to bully people into believing that there is only one path forward for America, one way to make America great (again).

I recently heard Rabbi Donniel Hartman speak about his new book, “Putting God Second”. I love the title. It is a great metaphor almost like theological poetry. I hope this isn’t blasphemy but for me, that’s where God “resides” – behind us motivating and inspiring us to put people front and first. The image in my head is from Genesis when the “wind” of God is hovering over the surface of the waters. I see the water rippling and God is pushing it so the dry land may appear. I feel God separating light from darkness so there can be daylight.

God is behind the scenes inspiring me to be the best I can be so that the world around me is more compassionate, kind and caring. And one more thing: God can only work through us. Our actions, our love, the way we walk through this world and navigate with the people around us, all of the above, allow God to “be”.

It is early morning; the house is quiet; the traffic hasn’t hit its peak; I can hear the birds singing outside. I wonder if they feel the wind of God lifting their wings, pushing at their backs also.

Life Asks Us Questions

/ howardshapiro / 6 Comments

BrunchI was at a brunch last Sunday that celebrated the 25th anniversary of an organization founded by child survivors of the Holocaust. It was filled with people and food, memories and determination, laughter and love, persistence, perseverance, pride. Twenty-five years since they came together finding meaning and comfort in being among their own. Twenty-five years since they banded and bonded to tell their stories to whoever would listen, to be living witnesses to words that are too often just paragraphs in history books, to teach the multiple lessons this horror had taught them.

They call themselves: The Child Survivors/Hidden Children of the Holocaust.

For their definition a child survivor is simply one who was a child during the Nazi years of planned extermination of the Jews of Europe. They lived in any number of settings from concentration camps to forests, from attics to cellars. Some were hidden by righteous gentiles, some hid themselves in places we can’t even imagine, all survived by a miracle that is theologically unsound. Depending who you ask, it was luck; it was God. This they do know: “Anachnu Po – We are here”, the first words spoken even before the blessing over the bread, opening the buffet. This they do know: they are dedicated to the memory of the six million Jews murdered by the Nazis, one and a half million of them children. This they do know: they are committed to telling their stories so that the listener will know: “all people deserve to live in peace and in safety”. (their own words).

Steven Hayes, developer of Acceptance and Commitment Therapy opens a Ted Talk, I recently watched with these words: “Life asks us questions. And probably one of the most important questions it asks is what are you going to do about your difficult thoughts and feelings …” Here is how I filtered his words. We make a choice in how we respond to what life throws at us – not necessarily an easy one, but a choice nonetheless. For me this coming together was all about choosing life. Choosing to live even after life itself had been vicious and cruel. Choosing to live even though all that you loved was ripped away, torn apart and burned.

The tables were round and they were full. The woman sitting to the left of me was not a child Survivor. She was born in a DP (Displaced Person) camp set up after the concentration camps were “opened”. It was an act of defiance and faith to have children at that moment in time. It meant you would not give Hitler any semblance of victory. And children point you forward towards the future, towards new life, new love. (Full disclosure, I know to use the terminology “opened” and not “liberated” because the person to the right of me was my wife, Eileen, former Holocaust Program Planner for Palm Beach County Schools. She taught me that the first concentration camps were actually stumbled upon and not knowingly liberated. (Let’s remember history as accurately as we can.)

It is several days since I digested (both figuratively and literally) the speeches, the songs, the dancing, the food, the joy. I am holding on to it. The author of Proverbs wrote, the human spirit is the lamp of God. I found a tremendous spirit at that brunch. Does that mean I also found God?

 

Freedom from Want

/ howardshapiro / 8 Comments

UnknownIt is the day before Thanksgiving and I am gearing up for my food prep schedule. Went over the menu last night and it passed muster with one of our more discerning guests. The next issue is the timing of the feast between football games – although I think we got that covered with apps and all that stuff.

I love Thanksgiving. It is everyone’s holiday. You don’t have to go back to the saga of the Pilgrims and Native Americans. You don’t have to buy into the Norman Rockwell painting of an idealized gathering with an impeccable bird and “perfect” all American family.  We are more diversified than that and maybe always were. I love that no one seems to be complaining in his picture. Everyone is happy and in my mind no one is standing in a line or camping out in the parking lot of some mall in order to get the best Black Friday deals some of which now begin on Thanksgiving itself.

Some corporate team probably made the decision that jumping the gun to open Thursday night would bring in more money. I feel badly for the people, who have to stock the shelves, work the cash register and say, “Welcome to Walmart” (or whatever the store).   I liked it better when Thanksgiving was a commercial free zone and we could concentrate on giving thanks for what we have not what we want. In my language, we are losing the sense of the sacred. Or maybe the sacred can no longer last a whole day. And we can moan and bewail the state of our society or we can go with what is and celebrate without judgment.

This is what I mean by the sacred: when I feel connected to something outside of myself – my spouse, family, friend, a tree, a bush, a flowing stream, a child learning how to crawl, the smile of a stranger passing by, the night sky, the universe within, God. When my heart announces itself with a sense of warmth, affection, love. When I know it beats not just for my survival but so that I can do good and make that proverbial difference, no matter how little, how big.

So I am thankful today and try to be everyday. But the truth is it is easy to forget and just get up in the morning, brush your teeth, figure out what’s for breakfast, check your calendar and you are off and running. Thanksgiving focuses me and I try to appreciate the blessings of family, of food, of love. It focuses me and I give thanks for this wonderful and flawed country we call home. I think especially how many challenges we have before us in this dangerous world we are trying to share. I think of the Thanksgiving metaphor and how as Americans we need to pull together to face this newly darkened tomorrow.  We have done so in the past and I pray we can find a way to gather around the same table and bless each other again.

The Rockwell painting above is called: “Freedom from Want”. May we all be so blessed.