| by Sam Glaser
That said, I think there’s a fifth “H” in the formula and that’s Holiness. I’m hard pressed to recommend a way to incorporate this core Jewish value without bringing God into the picture. Post-college I started asking fundamental questions, comparing my feelings of universal connectedness to the teachings of Judaism. On a trip to Israel in 1985 my light was turned on. I discovered that in Jerusalem, living a holy life with 24/7 belief in God was natural, normal, even fashionable. I could have lived my whole life in the Southern California fast lane and never opened this can of worms.Many of my deepest intuitions about God were confirmed in that City of Gold and although I didn’t realize it at the time, my Jewish “pilot light” was primed to explode.
After that trip I lived with a generous helping of cognitive dissonance since my life back in L.A. didn’t flow with the rigorous lifestyle of believers. However, try as I may, I could not go back to sleep, to return to my comfortable “unexamined life.” After a few years in limbo I decided to take a few proactive steps to get back on the holiness track. It seems that that this “fifth H” was free in Jerusalem but in L.A. I was going to have to work for it. One crucial step was moving into a Jewish community. Living close to a synagogue (or in my case forty of them) was essential to normalizing a God-focused consciousness. I don’t think I had the moral strength to make these spiritual strides in a vacuum. Perhaps this is why God invented peer pressure.
The other change was my committing to Shabbat. I think
I resonate with the popular parable of the miserable bird in the Garden of Eden. The bird complains to God that all the other animals have arms and hands and it is stuck with burdensome appendages at its sides. God then explains that those strange limbs are actually wings and with them the bird can FLY! Of course, this story teaches us that the mitzvot are our wings, not the burden that we might have thought. For me, the clumsy appendages were the dietary restrictions that I ignored, the day of rest on which I trampled and the idea of standing in a sanctuary singing words I didn’t understand. Like most Jews I was content to do it “My Way” and live with a vague, hibernating feeling of guilt.
Sure, one can be Jewish without belief in God. But I believe the Jewish people were meant to fly. |
I spent half my life agnostic and the balance, God-focused. Growing up in a Los Angeles-based Conservative Jewish family, we never dabbled in theology but relished in our culture and peoplehood. In the synagogue, our clergy and teachers presented everything other than belief, concentrating on what I like to call the four H’s: Holy Land, Holocaust, Hebrew and Holidays. I can testify that there is plenty within these parameters to fill a Jewish soul with meaning and substance; one can live a happy and very Jewish life, cradle to grave.
the Torah emphasizes this ritual over any other because it offers consistent physical, financial and emotional evidence that one is serious about the relationship. You can’t hope your marriage will last if you insist on flings on the side. I remember my last gig on Shabbat: it was clear to me that the exponential growth that I was experiencing didn’t jive with the driving, shlepping gear, plugging in and getting a paycheck. Thanks to the infernal power of Commitment, just like my marriage has bloomed beyond my wildest expectations, so too has my love affair with the Creator of the universe.
In the first half of my life, Judaism was relaxed and sweet; questions of belief in God rarely came up and that was fine. I loved my Jewish summer camp memories, learned enough for my Bar Mitzvah that I didn’t feel like an imbecile in the synagogue and could appreciate a good deli sandwich. Then I was shown a path and eventually took a series of baby steps towards commitment. God gives each of us permission to take the journey in Deuteronomy: This commandment that I set before you today is neither remote nor inaccessable from you. It is not in heaven, so that you should say, “Why shall ascend to the heavens and bring it down to us so that we can understand it and keep it?” It is not beyond the sea, so that you should ask, “Who will cross the sea and bring it back for us so that we can understand and keep it?” Indeed, it is very close to you – it is in your mouth and in your heart, so that you can keep it.
July 8th was a deliciously brisk, sunny day in Vancouver, Canada. I took my family on a mountain bike adventure through one of the most gorgeous urban parks on the globe, Stanley Park. As we careened down bike paths and trails I did my best to capture the moment with my handy Canon compact camera. Regretfully, I tried the “stupid dad trick” of shooting video while riding. At considerable speed. In the process I just barely grabbed the front brake lever by accident and the finely tuned rental bike seized up and flipped me over the handlebars. I broke my fall with my hands and cut up one of my palms pretty badly. Embarrassed by all the attention, I quickly dusted myself off and got back on the bike to catch up to family who were well ahead and oblivious to my aerial dexterity.
Spectacular deep green forest and a chain of pristine lakes graced this beautiful trail. A few miles in and my wrist started to throb. I figured I was letting too much blood get to the area because I was hiking with my arms hanging down. I fashioned a sling out of one of my kid’s sweatshirts and that took care of the discomfort. But something told me that I messed myself up worse than I initially suspected.
the time. I was well on the mend but couldn’t shake that superstitious mezuzah mantra. One morning I couldn’t stand it anymore. I counted twenty mezuzot in our house, including my recording studio. I asked my neighborhood sofrim (scribes) what was involved with checking them. A $200 house call plus $7 per mezuzah to check plus repairs if needed, plus new parchments if there were irreparable issues. Thankfully, the new rabbi at the shul down the street is also a sofer and was willing to do it without the house call fee. OK…you got a deal!
Rabbi Chaim Vital claims that these gates refer to our sensory organs: sight, hearing, taste, touch, smell. Just like a mezuzah offers protection at the entrance to any given room, we must establish a spiritual guardian at the source of input into our lives. We live in an age of 24/7 bombardment of the senses. It is more relevant now than ever that our gates are guarded to monitor the input. How much news do I need to hear? How much TV? Do I need to see every blockbuster movie? What dosage of violence, sex, gossip is appropriate? Is this something I should eat? Is this someone I should touch? Without sounding like Church Lady, in this passage clearly God is sending us a much-needed prescription for spiritual living.
By using our freedom to enter the realm of the servant/Master relationship, we connect with eternity. It is no wonder God commands us to repeat this mitzvah orally twice a day. In fact we conclude the crucial V’ahavta paragraph with the word “gates.” Accepting God’s partnership in the guarding of our physical and spiritual gates is the key to our success as individuals and as a people. Just like the lesson we learn when we leave our comfortable homes on Succot, the mezuzah reminds us of the true source of our protection.
the rare gift of speaking about spiritual subjects close to my heart to students who were attentive and hungry for the information. I enjoyed the chance to hear both the veterans in Jewish music perform in addition to sampling the hot, upcoming talent. I went to amazing lectures, relished in stories from master storytellers and listened in wonderment to a fifty-voice choir that formed over the course of the conference. And every night, from midnight till 3am, the musician insomniacs gathered in a “kumzitz mafia” jam session of outrageous proportions.
this twenty-year odyssey as a Jewish composer. These are the community leaders who have rallied to bring me to their congregations, who cherish my CDs, who share my music with everyone they know. Many of them met me when I was single and have followed my life through my engagement, marriage and rollercoaster experience as the father of three. Scarcely a CAJE meal goes by without my having to break out pictures of the family.
getting invitations to perform out of town. Amazing! This year NewCAJE gave me a taste of new artists Noah Aronson and Max Jared, among others, about whom I will rave and support in their journeys.
that they return is the camaraderie. There is no price tag one can put on belonging to such an esteemed, generous family. Tragically, teachers are usually on the low end of the socio-economic totem pole. The individuals that we empower to bring the newest generations into the fold can barely afford to live in the neighborhoods of the synagogues they serve. CAJE gives these righteous individuals a chance to stand up and be recognized and appreciated. It’s renewing, refreshing and rewarding. Some chastise the organization and say it’s nothing more than Jewish summer camp. But if summer camp is the “great white hope” for our kids, then why can’t the teachers of our students have their moment in the sun?
Growing up in suburban America during the 60’s included a certain rite of passage: as you drove down the freeways, if you wanted to hear your favorite songs, you needed an 8-track tape player in the dash. In one clunky cassette about the size of six iphones, a CD worth of material would play in gorgeous stereo. There were a few caveats. You couldn’t rewind. And when you least expected it, a metallic piece of tape signaled that it was time for the tape head to switch tracks. That meant a somber moment of silence in the middle of movements, sometimes in the middle of your favorite song. It wasn’t ideal but it was certainly more graceful than trying to balance your record player when changing lanes.
Shostakovich and Beethoven’s 5thsymphonies and assorted musicals. This was also the car that became my college ride at the University of Colorado, Boulder. A favorite collegiate pastime was stuffing the car with a dozen freshmen from the dorms, cranking the tunes and doing donuts in the Safeway parking lot on snowy nights.
the show started and was treated to a few hours of symphonic bliss. Beethoven’s 5thaffects me in the most visceral way. It’s just not that I share my birthday with the great composer…I have memorized every last passage intimately and during the concert I had to force myself not to conduct. I was even ready for that measure mid-movement when my family 8-track tape would clunk as it switched to the next section.
Sinai was our wedding day. Our exclusive covenant with the Creator of the Universe. Marriage is the melding of two hearts together into an altogether new entity. Thanks to the exclusion of all other potential mates, a couple has the chance to blossom into a symbiotic oneness. Thanks to our willingness to discard idol worship and focus on the laws of Torah, we explode into the full blossoming of our potential as members of God’s holy nation. It’s no surprise that Jewish law is called halacha, or path. It’s a pathway, not a goal in and of itself. By striving to sensitize ourselves to this path we hear God’s voice, feel God’s love supporting our every step.
I’m trying to understand why I’m so perturbed by my kids wasting time glued to a screen. Perhaps it’s because my wife and I brought them into the world with the hope that they might better appreciate the gift of life. Or at least ride their bikes once in a while. As adolescents they see the “real world” as the music, videos and TV shows that they voraciously consume. All the Jewish stuff they have to deal with in day school is a burden to be endured until they can get back online. Plugging in is a divine right. After all, they will live forever, have all of their needs met and perish the thought of having a vacant minute. In this generation you’re nobody until you have the latest screens of all shapes and sizes. Entertainment options from Avatar to Jackass to funny pet videos on YouTube compete for their attention on aptly named iphones, ipads and imacs.
friends…simultaneously. I can leave for the evening and return to find her in the exact same position. She can handle piano practice for ten minutes but as soon as it’s time to work out a tough passage I can see her desperation to unplug her brain in front of the screen.
people and remain few in number and yet will impact all of mankind by wandering the globe. I would argue that God’s Light Unto Nations experiment is working rather well; here is one of my favorite quotes:
Demonstrate the plagues with marshmallow hail, throw rubber frogs, wear animal masks and die on the floor for pestilence. Just like Shabbat meals, the three ingredients for a great seder are fun, fun and fun. The key line is “b’chol dor vador…” in every generation we must see ourselves in the Exodus. This isn’t a commemoration of something that happened to distant relatives. It’s our story in perpetuity, in every age, with every enemy of our people that seeks the destruction of our holy mission of tikkun olam.
matzah by even a moment or dipping delicate greens in salt water. We reinforce the concept that we were redeemed and are continuously redeemed from servitude so that we may serve God with love. The crowning moment of the Exodus is the revelation of God’s will in the Torah; this profound gift necessitates that we take the time to grapple with its demands. When all is said and done we have to sing, at the top of our lungs, from the depths of our hearts. And most importantly, we can’t let distractions like World of Warcraft derail us from our critical goal of serving as soldiers in the “war of worldcraft.”
JE Magazine: Shalom Sam. Thanks for taking a minute while you’re on the East Coast. The opening quote on your website calls you “the hardest working man in Jewish music.” How did you get that title?
Many a morning I bask in the sunlight on our front porch surrounded by fragrant jasmine, birds of paradise and bougainvillea. It’s my power spot for the Shachrit prayers. I’m bound up in my tefillin, enveloped in my tallit and connected to the Source of all creation. This sunny spot conceals me just enough from the few passersby on our quiet street but some know to look for me and wave as I shuckle back and forth. Our new neighbors have two adorable kids, the oldest a loquacious, blonde three-year-old with a favorite game. While I daven I can’t help but notice him try, often successfully, to run away from the house and down the street as his nanny panics and bolts after him. Every time he gets a little farther and she freaks out a bit more.
might. It has to have just enough water to serve as ballast for a good throw but be empty enough that it scares the pants off them when it strikes the wall just behind where their heads were moments before. I scream insults at them in my best Pirate tongue and we run until we’re too sweaty or until someone gets hurt. Many neighborhood friends come over specifically to have me terrorize them with my handy Arrowhead.
10-25 friends over every Shabbat afternoon and hinting not to subtly that I find my own friends to play with. He looks so damn handsome and has such a winning smile. But that smile is more often reserved for his peers and if I want a conversation I have to bribe him with an occasional fancy meal or force him on an outing. Even then I don’t have his full attention; I’m trying to teach him that it’s not OK to text while in a conversation with a live human. He tries to comply until an “important” message comes through.
sow in tears will reap with joy.” Treasure your challenges and strive to see God’s loving hand in every facet of your life. Take your spouse out on a regular date night so that when the house empties out you remember what one another looks like. And in the immortal words of the psalmist, James Taylor, “Shower the people you love with love, show them the way that you feel, things are going to work out fine if you only will.”
Debbie’s last official concert was everything that we fans wanted. All the hits, the crowd singing at the top of our lungs, tears aplenty at her epic ballads. Her voice was frail but she still hit the notes. Her humor was spontaneous and spot on and of course her trademark issues with guitar tuning created several classic improvised moments. Our beloved EJ Cohen was there to interpret both of our shows with her flowing, artful bi-lingual sign language. Debbie asked that no one video, photograph or facebook about the show. Just to be present, to be with her. Of course she sang Misheberach for us and then us for her. Little did we know.
I had one of the most uplifting weeks of my life. Such powerful concerts and interactions. Wonderful audiences in New York, New Jersey and St. Louis. I finished this leg of the tour at the General Assembly Conference, the flagship meeting of Jewish Federations from around North America, feeling optimistic and empowered.
Conference, a gathering of 750 black-hatted rabbis and their friends from around the world. In New York my brother Yom Tov and I gave a concert for Chassidim in Boro Park, then on to St. Louis where I worked with three day schools, led a Shabbaton and a concert at a popular outreach synagogue. My policy is to sing for all Jews, wherever they may be, and my personal mitzvah, my Letter in the Torah if you will, is to inspire audiences to be more connected with Israel, each other and their Creator.
Then the terrorism began. A young woman just a few rows behind me stood up and started chanting that the “settlements delegitimize Israel.” She continued to scream while robust African-American guards dragged her a few hundred yards to the back exit. The other four hecklers timed their nefarious attack with every-five-minute precision. The leader of the Jewish people could only stand there in silence and frustration. The crowd attempted to drown out the perpetrators with screams of their own, which only furthered the degree of damage. I felt like my insides were turned to jelly with pain and outrage at each affront. It was bad enough that all decorum was lost. But these were young idealistic Jews who didn’t hesitate to resort to deliver such a “low blow” to the proceedings. I’ve never seen a better excuse to deploy a taser. We can be our own worst enemy.
men on the park bench. (I know, many jokes start like this!) One is reading the Jerusalem Post and he looks over and is shocked to see his friend reading a radical Arab paper. “How can you do that?” he cried. His friend replied, “You read about Jews being persecuted, attacked, assimilated. I read that Jews own the banks, control the media and rule the world!” The lesson I came away with last week is that in the macro sense we are being brow beaten in the media, face intense threats from our neighbors and are paralyzed with hopelessness on many fronts. In the micro realm, however, there is room for celebration. Amazing new organizations are galvanizing young Jews. Witness the strength of the internet to unite and inform. Birthright, Ramah, Aish, Chabad, Jewlicious, PJ Library, NFTY, Nefesh B’Nefesh. Want to regain the feeling that anything is possible for the Jewish people? Don’t watch CNN or read the New York or LA Times. Don’t get your online news from AP and Reuters. Instead, try researching the Jewish Community Heroes, the accomplishments of the Joint Distribution Committee, IDF field hospitals, Tomchai Shabbas, JLTV, Israeli High Tech.