Chosen, Shmosen…Pass the Shmear

It’s that time of year again. Emails from dozens of Jewish organizations are flooding my inbox, telling me about some commandment to eat. (And asking for money so I can eat with them). That must mean there’s a Jewish holiday around the corner.

That’s right, it’s zman chalav-teinu, “the time of our dairy,” that one holiday that Jewish vegetarians like me kvell over, otherwise known as “Shavuot.” Shavuot is the holiday that commemorates the receiving of the Torah, arguably the very foundation of Judaism, our “tree of life.” And why did God give us the Torah? According to the Midrash, after the offer was rejected by every other nation, He threatened to drop a mountain on top of us if we didn’t accept His laws. We didn’t choose to be chosen, a term that many people, some members of the tribe included, have qualms with today. What does it mean to be “the chosen people?” Does it mean that we are the favorite, that we are superior to all other peoples? The Jews have undoubtedly made a mark on human history. I mean, the ten commandments, a basic human code of ethics, has got to be our most significant contribution to society. But I don’t even follow most of the Jewish laws and I’m still considered chosen! So what’s so special about this Torah that we didn’t even ask for?

The Torah itself tells us that God wanted us to be “a kindgom of priests and a holy nation.” (Exodus 19:6). Judaism teaches that “holy” means “separate” or “other.” We are certainly different in many ways, but that doesn’t mean that we are better. I prefer to see being holy as being elevated – not elevated above anybody else, but elevated to our own highest potential. Whether you try to follow every single commandment or none at all, it’s about always striving to be a better person, a “light unto the nations.” You can give so much more to the people in your life when you are at your best: secure, open, compassionate, loving, forgiving, patient. The mitzvot are meant to provide active ways for us to emulate these attributes of God. This is essentially what the gift of the Torah is about, and it’s a gift that we can transmit to everyone around us in so many different ways. It’s what we’ve got to help us do our part in making the world a better place.

Now, as you eat your cheese blintzes, think about what makes you feel holy and inspires you to be your best. It’s a Jewish value, after all. You didn’t choose it, but you can choose to use it for the betterment of yourself, your community, and the world.

Unemployment: A Survivor’s Testimony

Hi, my name is Adina Yael. (Insert firm handshake). I am (insert excessively long executive-president-director  job title). Nice to meet you. (Insert larger-than-life forced grin). What do you do? (Insert inquisitive glare and single eyebrow raise).

Since I’ve been back from Israel and am beginning to tread the daunting waters of the “real world,” people have been constantly asking me what I do. I tell them that I do a lot of things: I read, I write music, I cook, I go for walks, I play guitar, and so forth. That is what I do, after all. I know that this question actually refers to what I do for a living, but I like to make a joke of it to avoid having to say that I am not currently making a living. What should I say, “Nothing, I’m unemployed”? Now I know that it’s not something I need to be embarrassed about, especially considering the current state of the economy and job market. Additionally, I have still been back for a pretty short time, and most of the jobs I’m looking for don’t start until late summer or fall anyway, so the process is slow. But sometimes I can’t help feeling directionless, uncertain, and anxious about my future.

When I start to feel like this, I am reminded of something that Rabbi Ruth Gan Kagan, spiritual leader of Jerusalem-based Renewal congregation, Nava Tehila, taught during a workshop I attended in December. She spoke about how during the week you are a human doing, and on Shabbat, the one day of the week that you are commanded not to work, you are a human being. You get to tap into your true nature and just be. But rather than only on Shabbat, I have to remind myself constantly that what I do is NOT who I am. We talk about our jobs as if they define our entire existence, and often times in our society, they do. “I’m a Lawyer.” “I’m a Writer.” “I’m a Potato Chip Inspector.” So what does that make me? A nobody?

Although sometimes I feel like the world is going to cave in on me if I don’t find a job really soon, being unemployed doesn’t mean that my life is meaningless. Would you cease to be if your job, your car, your house, and all of the things that falsely define your success were taken away from you? Perhaps this is why we hear so many stories about mid-life crises and, dare I say, even quarter-life crises. We want to feel important and successful, and in our society, those things are often measured by external elements of our lives.

As I’m on the verge of this next exciting but terrifying chapter of my life where every decision I make seems so critical, I need to focus on the essence of who I am. My time off (“unemployment” sounds like such a dirty word) has been a blessing in disguise. It’s forced me to really learn about and be comfortable with who I am. I don’t have a job to define myself by, so I have to cultivate the other things that make me who I am. I’ve had the chance to get into an exercise routine and healthy diet, read, work on music, learn new things, and do things I’ve always wanted to do but never really had the chance. I’ve gotten to catch up with old friends, make new ones, spend time with my family, try new restaurants, and meditate on the beach. Obviously we need to make a living to support ourselves and we can’t just go through our entire lives “finding ourselves,” because probably the only place we’d find ourselves is deep in debt. The thing is, though, that unemployment sends many of us into not only a financial crisis, but an existential crisis as well . I know not everyone gets the chance to take time off and that I’m very lucky to have supportive parents and a place to live rent-free until I figure out the next step. Rather than stressing out about not having a job, I am making the most of the time I have to work on myself, which I think is so important and probably what I really need right now. I’ve learned to feel okay being by myself and actually enjoy my own company. I’m learning to really love myself, not because I make a lot of money or because I have a prestigious job, but because of who I innately am and what I have to offer the world.

There is a well-known Yiddish proverb that goes like this: “Mentsch tracht, Gott lacht,” or in English, “Man plans, God laughs.” It can be very frustrating not knowing where you’re going, but what matters is that you make the best of where you are. I know that soon enough the right job will come through, and when that happens, it will not define me. I won’t live to work because I will have already built a strong internal foundation. My work should, God willing, enhance what I already am and allow me to share that in some way.

Kosher Food for Passover Thoughts

For a holiday that’s supposed to be all about freedom, Passover presents a heck of a lot of restrictions. If you’ve ever observed Passover, you know all about the oppressors that are tasteless matzah and those God-awful Passover bricks – er, “cakes.” Yet, we are supposed to willingly subject ourselves to them for eight whole days in celebration of God’s redemption of the Jewish people. Quite honestly, eating what tastes like a piece of cardboard doesn’t exactly make me feel spiritual.

Upon my return to the U.S. after spending 6 months in Israel, I appropriately developed a passion for/addiction to coffee. To no surprise, the Passover diet presents a few limitations on coffee drinking for the matzovore, so I went to Starbucks on Sunday afternoon to test out how difficult it was going to be to get my fix this week. I already have several dietary restrictions and extreme difficulty with decision making. I wasn’t about to spend 20 minutes driving myself crazy trying to order a kosher for Passover, non-dairy, low-calorie, caffeine-free drink, so it just became a process of elimination. I ended up with a hot tea.

I also went to the grocery store that day, where I grew frustrated with fervently praying that the words “corn startch” or “canola oil” would be absent from every ingredient list like Moses prayed that the slaves would be freed. I felt like there were 10 plaguing voices in my head, some telling me to forget the whole thing, others trying to guilt me into following every last rule. I kept asking myself, “Why?!? Why am I doing this?”

Ah. That “why” voice was the one I was looking for. Though it makes me a little nutty and leads me to hours of fascinating research on maltodextrin, it is actually my voice of reason. I am always trying to make my Jewish observance relevant, and so on many occasions, it’s really hard for me to come up with some sort of justification for some of these seemingly outdated rituals. Case in point: Kosher l’Pesach. All I knew was that I had been keeping it every Passover for several years, each time a little more stringently, so if for nothing else, I was doing it for the sake of continuity. Was I missing the whole point of the holiday? Should I have paid more attention in Hebrew school before I dropped out? I was certainly making sure that I wasn’t consuming any chametz…but was the search for chametz consuming me???

After an hour of meticulously checking ingredients and asking the bunny-eared barista all sorts of strange questions, something clicked when I picked up the coffee cup: I am obsessing. (Perhaps this is obvious). I almost gave up because I thought that maybe I had gone too far and was doing more harm than good. But then an answer came to me seemingly out of nowhere; because I’m constantly thinking of what’s in my food and drinks, I am therefore constantly reminded of celebrating Passover, the exodus from Egypt, my freedom, and my commitment to Judaism. I get that. It also makes me very aware of what I put into my body; unlike a slave, I am in control of what I choose to eat and not to eat and am responsible for my health. Do I really want to be consuming high fructose corn syrup ever? After much questioning, I found an answer meaningful enough for me to keep up this crazy shtick.

Every time you ask “why,” you reaffirm and renew your Jewish identity. We begin our Passover seders by asking four questions about why in God’s name we are eating these oversized crackers instead of our favorite fluffy challah, dunking a sprig of parsley twice into salty water, torturing ourselves with bitter herbs, and using bad manners by reclining at the table – specifically to the left side. Then we talk about the four children who each ask what’s up with this whole Passover narrative (one of them doesn’t know how to ask, but we don’t want to be like him). Furthermore, our great rabbis and sages clearly wanted more from the scarce and vague details that the Torah provides us, which is how we ended up with so many works full of commentary and debate. I have learned and seen how Judaism sincerely values questioning, and the “just do it” philosophy does not work for me. We are no longer slaves and we do not have to blindly follow orders, so if something doesn’t make sense to you, try looking it up. Chances are you’ll come across a bunch of different rabbis with conflicting opinions on the matter who were also baffled by many of the laws we’ve been presented with. It may take a little more time and effort to understand the whys, but you will be liberated in your quest to make sense of them for yourself. You will have the knowledge to make your own choices. Even if you can’t find an answer that resonates with you. Even if you decide not to keep kosher for Passover. Tell me why.

Here’s to a well-caffeinated, deliciously challenging, thought-provoking, slavery-free Passover. L’chaim!