Uncategorized

The Hidden Haman

/ howardshapiro / 5 Comments

first-they-came-forMaybe it is time to reread Nathan Englander’s, book of short stories: “What Do We Talk About When We Talk About Anne Frank.”   Not that the book is a formula for what you do when Jewish Community Centers and Day Schools receive bomb threats. But given the events of recent weeks, I am beginning to think about the Anne Frank conversation.

In Englander’s story, the Anne Frank conversation is a four-person exchange. It comes after a lot of drama and a little bit of pot. What would you do if they came again? Who would you trust to hide you? Is there a righteous gentile in your neighborhood? (Sorry Mr. Rogers).   It is mind boggling to me that the news brings this story back to life. And when I say ‘news’ I mean real hard facts, not fake news or alternative facts.

This is how the internal conversation begins for me: Is this all an isolated phenomenon, although the answer is in the first paragraph of the Wall Street Journal article. “This is the fifth wave of such incidents this year.” I need someone to speak up; I need someone to tell me that my government cares about this; I need to know I can trust that law enforcement is putting appropriate resources into this. I need to feel protected or it is time to take action in a different kind of way and turn the ADL into the JDL.

There I said it. To everything, turn, turn, turn. There is a season, turn, turn turn. Is it our turn here in America? Is Anti-Semitism a new fact of life and this is the beginning of a different reality or this is the same reality that was always underground and now has been given permission to surface?  And what is it with Jewish cemeteries. The Jews in there are dead already. Is that the ultimate in hatred – they can’t be left to rest in peace?

Some of us saw this coming when they started attacking and burning Mosques. Some of us heard the thunder when in the last Presidential campaign words were used as swords. Some didn’t want to believe it could happen here. When Harry Golden said: Only in America, we heard: Never in America. I want my congressman to go to my local JCC and affirm there is no place for bigotry against any minority of religion, color, language, or culture in this America. I want my President to demand an investigation. I want the Jews in his inner circle to tell him: These are my people; this is my pain; find the hidden Haman wherever he may be.

I always thought the Book of Esther was fiction like Englander’s Anne Frank story. I’m afraid not.

Confession

/ howardshapiro / 12 Comments

 

if-now-nowHere’s my problem. I can’t think about anything else to write about except what is happening to our country.  How scary it is to live not knowing if you are at the beginning of a “new and improved” era of fear and repression. I had a meeting the other night at my house of a group of people looking for effective ways to make their voices heard and make a difference in the political climate of confrontation and name calling we seem to be inhabiting. The people in power right now believe that they can bully us into silence and by the sheer weight of their tweets paralyze us from acting. They disparage everything I was taught as pivotal to the great American experiment of democracy.

I think the game plan is to set up a series of scapegoats whom we can blame and undermine our faith and trust in the very institutions that make this country work. With all their pious posturing at prayer breakfasts with heads bowed, they are chipping away at what is the secular sacred system set into place by our founders. I know I am venting and you really don’t need this from me; it is on the news all day long.

I actually think we all need something different.

At the meeting, I made a confession. I made it in the singular but I am betting it could easily be communal and plural. I have lots of political positions and plenty of partisan opinions but it has been years since I have carried a sign and physically joined a rally. I’ve made donations to political causes; I’ve voted in every election; I’ve signed petitions (I can feel myself getting defensive). But rarely did I call my representative in Washington; I have never gone to a town hall meeting of my senator or congressman. And I am not alone; I know it. Lots of us are caught in the daily rounds of our living and it is hard to get us to move off our own personal dime. Newton taught us: “An object at rest tends to stay at rest”. It needs a push.

This political climate has been my push. I have called congress; I have a sticky note on the bottom of my computer with their telephone numbers. I have emailed; I have gone to one rally so far. It’s not hard; it just takes doing. And if you don’t know where to start, try this article from the New York Times: “A Low Tech Guide To Becoming More Politically Active”. Here’s one of their suggestions: http://phonecongress.com/ Click on it – it will guide you through finding your representatives and what to say about specific issues.

It is time. It is up to you and me. No more waiting, watching. To paraphrase Rabbi Tarfon: You don’t have to do it all, but if now now – when? And if not me, who?

 

 

 

 

A Cold Day in January

/ howardshapiro / 19 Comments

Barack Obama Sworn In As U.S. President For A Second Term

 

I have rewritten this piece over five times. Part of me want to mount the barricades in the last scene from Act One of Les Miserable and wave a proud flag of courage. Part of me wants to be reasoned and cautious and believe that “this too shall pass”.

My mother who had lots of health and life challenges used to ritually intone those words. She meant that every experience has a purpose – not all of them too our liking, but all of them are meant to be instructive and all of them have the potential to help us grow. It does not imply that everything will turn out the way we want it to; it does not mean that there won’t be challenges ahead of us. It means that there is a kernel of truth in all that happens to us and all that happens to us demands us to act.

So I am struggling with how to act as this Inauguration week breaks. I am back in front of a black and white TV. In my mind it is cold and the wind is blustering, biting into the sweet promise of the next four years. Not that all of the Presidential promises were sweet or that the person being inaugurated that day was the President of my choosing. There were those whose platforms filled me with skepticism and concern. But this time it isn’t only the platform. It is the very essence of the man, at least the one who shows up on my color HD screen. On my Facebook feeds my friends are telling me this moment is different. It is not just concern and skepticism; it is a game changer and we need to mobilize and be prepared.

I am trying hard not to panic. I will go to those pre and post inauguration gatherings but not to mourn; not to despair. I am going to try and use some of the lessons I learned in the Jewish spiritual discipline we call Mussar which suggests to us that how we react to the stimulus around us act as a mirror into our souls. So, I am looking at January 20th as a mirror with the Capitol as a backdrop. Who is the me reflected in the image? What does it say about my feelings and actions? I am pasting a sticky note on that mirror, (a blue one) with the word “trust” in Sharpie black. I am talking about trusting yourself and the process that things will work out the way they are supposed to. Don’t take that as a recipe for passivity.

I am going to double down on the way I approach the political process. More donations to the causes I believe in and see as threatened; more active engagement with those who supposedly represent me. I am now in the loyal opposition and it is challenging. It is scary. I wrote the week after the election that we would have to wait and hope that the office would make the man. We don’t have to wait much longer. The man has remained true to who he was. It is time for us to trust each other and ourselves and reach out hand in hand to restore and preserve a more compassionate America.

 

 

 

Winter Is Coming

/ howardshapiro / 11 Comments

img_5143

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.

 

 

We Went to Africa

/ howardshapiro / 12 Comments

dscn3373

“We went to Africa.” Is that my sentence or is that an echo of Meryl Streep reciting some variation of those words at the beginning of the movie “Out of Africa”. It was as beautiful as the movie, at least the parts and parks we went to. People said to us it was a life changing experience. That’s a little too hyped for me. But it was amazing; it was unique; it was unlike almost any other travel experiences I have had. I keep going back to the pictures and reliving the moments again and again.

We actually went to South Africa, Zimbabwe and Botswana. Technically we were also in Zambia but that was only at the airport and the most compelling memory about that was the $50 per person fee to get a Visa and have the privilege of walking across its border. We were there at the end of their winter; they were waiting for the rains; so out in the game parks and national preserves, the predominant colors were different hues of brown. That is until dusk and the setting sun transformed the browns into shades of orange, yellow and gold.   The beige was now cream and the dust kicked up by the tires of the range rover became warm specks of a fading day that was filled with awe.

That is awe like in splendor; not awe like in fear. But there were a few times, when we asked our ranger: Just how close to those lions do you think we should we be? “Keep your hands inside the vehicle; speak softly; don’t stand; don’t move quickly,” he answered, “You will be fine.” That is awe like in Jacob waking from his dream and realizing: “How filled with God is this place and I, I did not know it.”

Yea, it’s religious. These animals in their natural habitat, where they are the residents and we are the visitors, are inspiring. I mean that word as in take your breath away. Whether it is a lone bull elephant standing next to a water hole in an almost dry river bed throwing dust on his back to keep from getting sunburned or a giraffe’s head just peeking out of the trees, its spotted body fading in and out of the canopy, perfect camouflage. A leopard climbing down from its perch and sliding through the tall grass of the Delta, appearing and disappearing at will, with not a sound except the rustling blades.

They teach us humility. Not how small we are; but our place. We are not alone in this world. It does not begin and end with us. We are part of something bigger, greater, more complex and more splendid than we ever imagined. We have been given an amazing gift; how awesome our responsibility.

/ howardshapiro / 15 Comments

image
There was a new moon last night. In my sky it was bright white, a sliver of its fullness, floating against a black sky. It was warm with promise. It spoke of what is yet to come. It came at a good time, reminding me of what is real and what is not. It was the Elul moon of preparation.

Yesterday we spent the day packing. Or to be more accurate, yesterday we spent the day unpacking and repacking. The guidelines for the trip are “duffel bag, no more than 24 inches, no frame, small wheels”. We will be gone for a good portion of September so what to take, what to leave behind; what to carry forward, what to assign to the unnecessary pile. But unnecessary is such a grey word. What if it is colder than we anticipate; what if it rains; what if the mosquitoes are out in full force (unlikely this time of year)?

Prepare for every eventuality? Not in 24 inches. (I know people who are really good at this, I admire their decisiveness.) Or is it trust? What we call in Hebrew – bitachon. Trust that they can weather almost any eventuality. Trust that they are prepared.

There’s that word again. Prepare; fortify yourself that you are ready. Ready for a new moment, a new year, a new experience, a different way, a new path. Switch gears. Engage the clutch. Gradually let it out and find that sweet spot where when you press the gas, you move forward slowly, smoothly, gliding through the unknown, like last night’s moon.

I promised myself that today I was zipping them up. It is hard to carry when it’s open.
Things just keep falling out. Gotta make that leap of faith. Done. Done. Done.
But you know, I know, it’s never done, just finished for now. Thank God we can begin again. That’s the season you know; that’s the blessing of last night’s moon.

 

 

 

 

Angry

/ howardshapiro / 10 Comments

Americ Flags half staffIt is almost a week since the slaughter of 49 people in a nightclub in Orlando. If the media is any indication of what is true, our nation is sad, angry, confused and shaken. At the very least those are good descriptors of where I am.

Sad, intensely, that 49 lives have been taken. They were mercilessly killed by a man wielding guns who in my humble opinion had no right obtaining or owning. Somewhere on line I read that it is easier to buy an assault rifle than Sudafed. (Probably an exaggeration but you get the point. We choose what we regulate and guns seem to be too sacred for the Feds to touch.)

We are angry at each other and we are angry at our elected officials who refuse to do anything about this plague of violence. I think J.J. Goldberg’s editorial in The Forward is right on target. He asks, “Why the Orlando Massacre has America so angry at itself”. We are so angry we can’t hear each other talk; we are so angry we can’t even agree on the causes of the attack. Is it the easy access to assault weapons? Is it Radical Islam and the actual or emotional ties that the killer had to ISIS? Is it homophobia or even self-loathing? Is it mental instability? Is it one of the above, some of the above or all of the above.

I don’t mean to be cute or make light of the tragedy. My answer is it is all of the above. It is too easy to get assault weapons in this country and if someone is on the no fly list and they are too dangerous to be sitting on a plane next to me it feels too obvious that they are too dangerous to have a semi-automatic rifle. And that is on Congress. And that is on our public representatives who are supposed to insure that “government of the people, by the people, for the people shall not perish from the earth.” Well who cares for “the people” in Washington? Not those who think guns are more sacred than human lives, or the gun lobby is too powerful to go up against.

I can feel my anger rising as I write.  I am not afraid to say the words “radical Islam”. I am also not afraid to say the words “Jewish extremists and Christian crusaders”. My point being that every religion and culture has those who pervert their fundamental message and use them for their own political purposes. I feel for my gay friends. This hit their community extra hard. All the pride and progress of the last few years diminished. It is a terrible reminder that we have a long way to go for GLBT equality and acceptance. And how young? But I guess that’s no criteria – they were younger still at Sandy Hook.

No, I don’t care what you say: It is not about ISIS; it is not about Homophobia: It is not about mental instability; it is about guns. It is about easy access. Someone will always find a cause worth killing for. It is about the cowardice of congress. It is about the failure of our representatives to protect us. It is about their interest, not ours. It is disgusting.

Feeling Reflective

/ howardshapiro / 9 Comments

DSCN2656I have set my computer screen saver to change pictures every five minutes and randomly select them from the photos I have loaded either from my camera, my phone, slides I have had digitalized, images shared. I readily admit that I have no idea how to control the choices that fade in and out and I notice that some pictures rotate more often than others. I fantasize that the computer is laughing at me and playing hide and seek with my pictures.

Each picture is a memory and a slice of my life. Maya and I are feeding a dolphin in one; the illusive, mysterious moss hanging on twisted trees in the squares of Savannah; aqua green water peppered by red and white buoys floating in the Bay of Nhatrang, Vietnam; the beige sand of a Moroccan flea market punctuated with the saffron and purple head coverings of the women hiding their faces and shopping for bargains; stages of life reflected in my different body shapes, hair styles, clothing choices, each one a sacred moment, each one an opportunity to mentally move along the arc of my life.

Sometimes the computer program zooms in and only part of the picture shows up on the screen. This morning I had a close up of my smile and my teeth – my dentist would have been proud – I laughed when I saw it but I think I could use some whitener. Sometimes I have to challenge myself to figure out where we are. Invariably the process touches me in places deep and inside even when I can’t remember the name of that site, city or setting.   It is often tinged with sadness and loss; but more often than not, if I let myself linger in the memory, I feel a profound gratitude for that which I have been given. Each moment is a different letter in a blessing formula.

But my challenge to myself is to extend that thankfulness to all of life, even that which is not apparently striking. I tend to take pictures of the beautiful and surprising but that is not the complete picture of life. There are photos I did not take with a camera but are still imbedded in my internal album: my mother curled up in her bedroom deep in depression; the steps I tripped up when I was given the honor of opening the door of my grandfather’s synagogue where the hearse stopped so that the Cantor could ask God to bind his soul in the bond of eternal life.; the dreams that astonish me in content and vividness in the middle of the night – the ones that wake me up and sometimes serialize themselves after I fall back to sleep. And I could go on.

All of these teach; all of these make me who I am; the good, the beautiful, the embarrassing, the disappointments, the successes, the endeavors I wish I had finished and the relationships I wish I had done differently. All of these are opportunities for introspection and growth. Even those out of focus.

Enough, it may be cloudy right now but there is still a golf ball wanting to be hit.

 

 

One No Trump

/ howardshapiro / 12 Comments

one no trump

There was a great article by Nicholas Kristof in the Sunday Times a week ago. It is called “A Confession of Liberal Intolerance”. He writes about us liberals, and talks about how willing we are to listen to all kinds of points of view, want to bring everyone to the table, no matter what their color, gender identity, national origin, faith, culture, unless they are conservatives, and especially conservative (read Evangelical) Christians.

It resonated with me in this political season. I mean we were so concerned with the rhetoric of the Republican Right and we along with practically everyone in the Media so underestimated Donald that we couldn’t believe that we would wind up with him as the “presumptive nominee”. I secretly believe that somehow the Republican Party will come to their senses and there will be a miracle in Cleveland. I have so far declined to sign my name to a “Rabbis Against Trump” movement saying to myself, it is too early, too soon, this too shall pass.

I also fantasize that Mr. Trump will stop the act and show us that he is more than a great showman and the best barker in the circus. He will become Presidential as they say and address the real issues facing this country without resorting to name calling and hitting people in their under bellies. I would like to be faced with ideas that challenge me even if I can’t agree. I think Kristof’s point that we learn from those who challenge our assumptions and beliefs is right on target. There is nothing wrong with an honest argument. I would like to know more about how we effectively control the immigration issues without a wall and who will pay for it. I am curious how his policies would grow the economy, raise the standard of living, put people back to work, make America great again, cut taxes and keep businesses from fleeing our shores.

I would like to be faced with one of the fundamental challenges the Rabbis faced when compiling the Talmud. What do you do when people disagree; when principles clash; when all parties believe that they are right and their reading of what is right for America is the one and only position to take seriously? You look at motives; you examine the core; you seek out basic truths. The Rabbis taught: “Kol Machloket…. Every argument for the sake of Heaven will in the end be of permanent value, but every disagreement not for the sake of Heaven will not endure.” They tell us it is ok to disagree; it is ok to have your principles challenged. We learn that way.

Eileen and I play bridge with friends – one of whom is way more bridge savvy than the rest of us.   She says that one no trump is the hardest contract to make. The cards are usually fairly evenly divided and no one has said very much so it is hard to even guess who has the strong cards and what is in each player’s hands.

Not a good way to pick a president.

Babka Is Back

/ howardshapiro / 13 Comments

babka_duo_index1a

I don’t usually do this but to “get” this blog you might like to go back a few months to the blog of January 17th titled, “Is It Good Enough?” It was about these blue cards I found that date back to the 70’s – sermons – typed – like on a typewriter – and filed away, forgotten till now.

I was reluctant to read them, not knowing what I would find: Were they good; have I grown; did I bring insight and meaning to my listeners? They are my “chameitz” – the yeast that causes the dough to rise. Passover is over but all that attention to labels and order freed me from the power of the past to bubble up and control me. Passover worked for me; it gave me the ability to start again knowing the doubts and sense of inadequacy would be back, but that’s why we play this Seder game year after year.

So the genie is out of the box. I’ve opened the files and on a beautiful Florida day, I schlepped them outside and sat in the sun reading my past. It helped that our granddaughter, Sammy, was sitting next to me. So here are a few reflections.

They are mostly High Holy Day Sermons and they are mostly too long. I think I love my words too  much and find it hard to hit the delete button. But they are interesting in ways that surprise me. Themes reoccur: I talk a lot about my self and what I am struggling with (as a parent, a teacher, a believer, a skeptic). I talk a lot about Israel; it is fascinating to see  how that conversation has changed over the years.

There are some good stories that I have forgotten and can probably use again. Like: “When a Yeshiva student came to his Rebbe and boasted that he had gone through the Talmud five times, the Rebbe turned and asked: ‘And how many times has the Talmud gone through you?’” It leads me to ask: How much have these words gone through me?

My eyes were better then. I can’t believe the size of the typewriter font. But was my vision? I’m impressed that even then when Israel’s survival was sometimes in doubt, I thought out loud “survival can not be enough. We cannot be dependent on our enemies to define us.” Why be Jewish is not a rhetorical question; it touches the heart and the soul of each of us.

Forty years ago, in 5736, (I dated my files by the Jewish year), I announced, “Babka is back” and in 5776 its back again. According to the Today show it is here to replace the cronut as the latest pastry obsession. Everything is cyclical or as we use to say in New Jersey: “What goes around comes around”. But that has a somewhat different connotation and usually involved a little bit of self-satisfying glee. It is good to be right. Which brings me to an ending. I wasn’t always good. I wasn’t always smart. But I tried and sweated out every word. I tried to reach beyond the lectern. I laughed when I read one of my sermon openings: “Relax – let down your defenses – I am not here to yell at you. I am here to search with you.”  Yes – for leaven, for yeast, for anything that can help us rise above ourselves.

And by the way or to the point:  where is there good Babka in South Florida (chocolate – the deep dark rich kind that doesn’t crumble when you cut it, that can be toasted and spread with butter.)?  OMG, I’m in trouble.