Posts Tagged ‘Shabbas’

It’s a Woman’s World: An Inside View of “Women’s” Mitzvot.

Thursday, February 12th, 2015

By Sam and Shira Glaser

At the risk of sounding sexist (too late!,) there are certain rituals in Judaism that are considered the territory of women.  Rather than pontificating from this man’s point of view, I thought I would interview my wife Shira to obtain her enlightened perspective.  Shira and I took the journey of mitzvah observance together beginning in 1991.  She runs a joyful, well-managed kosher household and is adored by her grateful husband and three kids.  Shira is whip-smart, high functioning, athletic, maternal and giving.  She is the type of generous guest who will bring half the meal and won’t leave until she cleans up your whole kitchen.  She is a reliable resource for countless friends in need and is a pillar of strength for all who are lucky enough to know her.  I should add that she has an MBA, spent years in finance and marketing for major corporations and makes incredible humus. Who better to interview on the subject than my overachieving wife?

Shira, darling, can you describe your weekly Shabbat candlelighting ritual?

OK. The panic and rush of Friday comes to a shrieking halt.  I set up five candles (two plus one for each of my three kids) on the silver candlesticks that I received for our wedding. I light, cover my eyes, sing the blessing and then daven (pray.)  Shabbas candlelighting is a special time of focus for me.  First I take time to recognize God as my creator and provider, then I request the things I need and hope for.  I then pray for you, for our kids one by one, for our extended family, friends and the Jewish People.  I take an extra moment to cover specific family and friends that need refuah (healing,) parnasa (income) or a shiddach (spouse.)

I enter a totally new space after I light.  All distractions are gone. It’s very freeing.  No matter how much is going on, I can’t worry about whatever didn’t get done.  It’s nice to just let it go.  I try to light at the official eighteen-minute mark so that I’m taking on Shabbas with the whole community.  Sometimes I’m not quite ready so I keep in mind that I’m not taking on the laws of Shabbat for another few minutes while I finish all the details.

It takes discipline to be present for candlelighting.  Some of the time, especially when we have a big table, I’m panicked.  Over the years the Shabbas hustle (a tense time in the hour before Shabbas comes in) has become more manageable. I pace myself and I feel that it’s disrespectful to Shabbas to rush it.  Of course there are unforeseen circumstances so it’s not always so smooth.  The yetzer harah (inclination to blow it) is very powerful before Shabbas…we all have be careful to not lose our cool.

Candlelighting is one of my main prayer moments of my week.  The fact is that I’m praying most of the day. One thing that makes

candlelighting so sweet is that since her Bat Mitzvah I share it with Sarah (our fifteen-year-old daughter.)  She lights two candles of her own and we sing the bracha together using the Glaser family melody written by Max Helfman

at Brandeis Camp.  When Bubbie (Sam’s mom) and any extended family members are lighting with us, it’s a really amazing scene.  Bubbie lights over twenty-five candles…for her sixteen grandkids, all her kids and siblings.  Quite a sight!

Why do you suppose candlelighting is considered a woman’s mitzvah?

Well, our tradition tells us that Sarah the matriarch was the first to light candles and that her candles stayed lit miraculously the whole week.  They brought peace into her tent with Avraham and weren’t extinguished until she died.  Then when Rivkah took on the custom and the miracles reoccurred, it was clear that she was Sarah’s righteous successor.  I guess that women bring light into the household.  It’s the woman’s domain.  Especially the kitchen!  I’m pretty traditional in that I like to have my hands in every aspect of the house.  I maintain order, keep things stocked, cook and do the laundry

Obviously the traditional roles aren’t for everybody.  They work for me.  I think women have a more inward focus…just look at our bodies.  The way we were created is inside-oriented, more loving and nurturing.  I’ll be the first to admit that I am a homebody.  For example, I like doing laundry because touching your clothes lets me learn about you…what you did that day, if you worked out, what you ate.  I impart love into the laundry!  Having clean clothes lets you worry about other things because the fundamentals are taken care of.  I think kids need a sturdy platform from which they can spring.  Our kids don’t need to worry about what they are going to eat or wear, and that builds security, gives them a sense of confidence.  It’s important to me that our kids can trust us to be reliable, to always provide the essentials.  When they learn to be trusting of us, I think they will be able to trust others and have intimate relationships in their own lives.  There are many languages of love, and cooking and cleaning are how I love you.

Speaking of cooking, doesn’t it get old always having meals ready for your hungry family?

I get pleasure when my family eats with gusto.  I really strive to make things that everyone likes, the common denominator dishes. There’s something very intimate about feeding your family.  People feel love towards the one feeding them. It’s an intimate bond our kids have had with me since they were babies.  It’s connective…that’s just my gut feeling. Also, I’m using recipes that have been passed down from grandmothers.  The food I make ties us all moms together…it’s so deep…beyond lifetimes!  If we relied on take out food I feel that something maternal and sentimental would be missing.  And if we relied on you to cook, we would all starve!

Thanks.  That brings us to another famous woman’s mitzvah, baking challah.  Any thoughts?

I can’t seem to get organized enough to make it and I’ve had too many disasters in the past.  Making challah makes me feel A.D.D….I just can’t get it right.  We’re lucky in that we live in a place where there are lots of bakeries that make delicious challot.  Someday I hope to make it myself.

In the challah baking workshops that I’ve attended I’ve learned that it’s a special, spiritual food.  It’s one that requires significant human interaction in partnership with God.  Apples, bananas, veggies, meat…those things don’t require so much partnership.  But going from seed to plant to harvest to threshing to grinding to kneading and baking…that’s an awesome symbol of human effort combined with God’s gifts.  In the desert our people were dependent on Manna from heaven.  The motzi blessing thanks God for bread from the ground.  When they got to Israel it amazed the Israelites that bread didn’t just fall from the heavens but instead came from the ground…wow! Challah teaches that all our achievement is never really our own; that everything happens with only God’s help.

Every ingredient of challah is symbolic.  The oil is the medium for anointing and when adding the oil you can feel like you are anointing every member of your family like royalty.  Let the sugar overflow so the goodness and sweetness overflows for the family.  I’m sparing with the salt since it represents judgment.  Eggs represent the human lifecycle and the preciousness of time.  When we go to a friend’s home where the challah is homemade I can sense all the blessing that these women have invested.  I watch you guys in consuming in glutenous ecstasy.  Without a doubt our favorite is bubbie’s onion challah.  The taste is indescribable.

How do you avoid feeling burdened by all the cooking and entertaining for Shabbat and holidays?

Some of the women in our community set the bar so high that even my best effort is going to fail in comparison.  I realized that I have to make Shabbat MY best, not THEIR best. If you’re Martha Stewart, then great, go for it.  It’s important not to get trapped into thinking that the festive meals have be high level or not at all. My Shabbas and Yom Tov (holiday) meals are my expression, my creativity.  I like things clean and simple, so I keep things simple.  Light and healthy…that’s my style.  We don’t stuff ourselves or eat fried and processed food during the week, so we’re not going to do it on Shabbat.

My meals usually have sumptuous, fresh appetizers and great, homemade desserts.  I like to start and end with a bang.  One thing that I’m obsessed about is making desert.  I don’t bake challah but I make everything else.  (One time when we were all invited to a neighbor’s home for lunch my daughter asked, “Excuse me, but do you have anything homemade?”  Yes, our kids are spoiled!)

Do you feel compelled to have guests most of the time?

We do our best outreach at our table. You run the proceedings, keeping everyone engaged in conversation, words of Torah and music.  I keep the food and drink flowing.  Our tables have become so popular that they are the places that people want to send first timers or bring their parents when they come to town.  I love sharing our family’s unique gifts.  I think we make Judaism look good and we give singles something to emulate in their future households.  Yes, I get burned out.  Everybody does.  I have to pace myself.  Sometimes it’s just our family and it’s more casual.  Still, Shabbas is a big step up from weekdays.  We always eat in the dining room, have multiple courses, use tablecloths, fresh flowers and use the fancy glassware.

Our kids have grown up seeing that having guests is an important mitzvah.  I know they will want this feeling for themselves.  I do a lot of meals for community members who are sick or have just given birth.  I always get you and the kids to help in the preparation or delivery so that they share the mitzvah and have a learning experience.  One thing I realized with our kids is they always must be the focus at meals.  Since our tables are mostly outreach oriented it’s tempting to put the kids at the “kids table” and concentrate on the guests.  Whenever possible I include them in the proceedings, sitting them next to you, making them part of the adult conversation.  They love telling our guests jokes and often initiate the games we play and the songs we sing.  This way they have grown up loving having guests and they don’t feel excluded when others are invited.  And for our guests who don’t typically have kids around, they relish in joining the mischief of “Anger Bottle” and “Ghost in the Graveyard” games (email Sam for the rules!)

Nowadays I’m very aware of the brevity of the childrearing years.  With one kid out of the house and another about to graduate, I’m a bit selfish with sharing them.  Shabbas is the time when they are undistracted by media and cell phones…we have them to ourselves and they really open up and share with us.  Therefore I’m not so compelled to be entertaining as much.  This is truly a precious time.

Since you keep track of the finances in our family that puts you are in charge of tzedakah (charity), making sure we always give at least ten percent.  Any comments on this mitzvah?

Tzedakah is not just about giving money.  It’s about giving time and attention to the needy.  Tzedakah is justice.  God gives us our income as a test to see what we’re going to do with it.  I want to live in a world where people look out for one another.  So I start with me.

There are so many charities competing for our attention.  I think of them as balls flying through the air that need catching.  You can’t juggle all of them and must remember that only certain ones have your name on them. Catch that ball and make it yours.  Make it personal and meaningful. We have friends and relatives that have burned out on tzedakah.  I’ve heard it said, “If yes to them means no to you, then the answer is no.”  Part of the giving process is knowing when to say no and I know you have a hard time saying no to anyone.  As it stands we pay dues to four synagogues and by now we should be partial owners of two Jewish Day Schools.  By the way, there is also a law that states one shouldn’t give more than 20%.  Halacha recognizes that you want the giver to retain the ability to give in the future.

For me the big priority is Jewish day

school education. As we are witnessing in our rapidly assimilating country, there is no Jewish continuity without it.  This is my mission: to have substantial subsidies available for any parent in the Diaspora that wants to give their kids a day school education.  Middle Class families should not have to endure dire economic sacrifices to raise Jewish kids.  That said, I think it’s one of the most worthy sacrifices.

Can you comment on using the mikvah and what it has done for our relationship?

For me, the experience has evolved. At first I was nervous and self-conscious, worried that I’d do something wrong.  Then as I grew more confident I learned to love it.  I have always enjoyed the preparation.  I feel like I’ve accomplished something sacred and I feel elevated when I come back.  When I’m in the bath scrubbing, plucking, exfoliating, shaving, I feel just like a regal Queen Esther.  Who wouldn’t want a monthly spa treatment, to spend such concentrated time on oneself?

Of course the best part of the anticipation and preparation is that it makes our relations so special.  I think it’s natural to want to separate for a period of time.  It’s probably harder for you than me to be apart.  During those twelve days (five days of menstruation plus seven clean days) we manage to build up a sweet tension and it makes the monthly honeymoon so passionate.  It makes us relish the time we are able to be together, knowing that it’s not forever.  Absence really does make the heart grow fonder. The more careful we are with details of taharat mishpacha (family purity) the more intense our reunion.  Part of that feeling of getting back together is the satisfaction that we are doing the right thing in God’s eyes, that we are living holy lives and sanctifying the family.  Hopefully it creates a holy environment for our kids…so far so good.

Using the mikvah also implies that sex is a crucial aspect of a marital relationship.  Participation in a relationship means participating in sex.  I believe I heard Dennis Prager say on the radio that twice a week is the bare minimum!  A loving couple makes time for relations.  They should never be rushed.  It’s a chance to focus on each other’s needs, to light candles, relax, to fall asleep in each other’s arms.  When couples lose their desire for one another I know they are in trouble.  When only one member wants abstention for any given period of time it can cause feelings of abandonment.  This ritual keeps the passion hot by building mutual abstention into the fabric of the relationship.  It’s genius.

What are you thinking about in the mikvah?

The way it works is that after preparing at home I do the final touches at the mikvah.  Then when it’s my turn I enter the soothing water and submerge completely, making sure that every strand of hair is underwater.  I keep my eyes and mouth slightly open so that the water goes everywhere.  If all looks good when I come up, the mikvah lady says “kosher” and hands me a washcloth to cover my hair and make the “al hatevilah” bracha (the blessing over the mikvah mitzvah.)  Then I give back the washcloth and dunk two more times.  My kavanah (focus) when I’m underwater is very intense: the first time I dunk I daven for specific friends that I hope will meet their besheret (soulmate.)  I pray that they too will have the opportunity to use this ritual to sanctify their relationship.  The next dunk I daven for all my needs and then the third time I daven for you and the kids.  For the record, this is my custom.  What one does and how many times they submerge could be very different based on what was taught to them during their kallah (bridal) classes or what was handed down from mother to daughter.

Going to the mikvah is such a private, personal opportunity for prayer.  Friends of mine who no longer use the mikvah have empowered me to daven on behalf of people who are childless or in need of healing. Nowadays I never know if it’s my last time to the mikvah.  Many of my peers have been through menopause and I know my turn is coming.  That makes me appreciate the whole process even more.

I know some women think it’s sexist to be considered “niddah” or impure, but I prefer the idea that my period makes me “unavailable” for relations, not dirty or impure, God forbid.  It gives us a chance to learn to function in a non-sexual manner.  Taharat Mishpacha isn’t pejorative, it’s simply about appreciating the monthly gift of the ability to create new life and the conscious awareness of when that opportunity departs.

How do you feel about davening with a mechitza?

I don’t mind it.  As long as it’s practical, not a huge barrier.  It’s ok for us to see the men.  I like those shuls that have one-way glass or fabric.  The fact is that I’m in shul to daven.  Not to socialize or hold your hand.   That’s just a distraction.  I tell women who are gabbing away that they should just come to the Kiddush.  A mechitza clarifies what we are supposed to be doing…our attention shouldn’t be going horizontally, it should be going vertically!

There’s a feeling of sisterhood just having women together.  It’s good to be in a “girl zone” once in a while.  It’s so rare that the genders are separated in our society and there’s certainly a place for it.  I just read an article that researchers have shown that guys need nights out with the guys.  Certainly women create powerful camraderie when they are on their own.

Do you ever wish you could be called to the Torah for an aliyah?

I personally don’t have a desire to be called to the Torah.  But I can certainly understand that there are women who would want to do that.  It’s a modesty issue in traditional Judaism.  We have shuls in the neighborhood with women’s services, it’s just not my thing.  I do like to dance with the Torah on Simchat Torah so I go to the shuls where that’s the custom.  Once again, I’m a traditionalist on these women/men separation issues.

I think egalitarianism as a sacred Jewish value is a slippery slope.  One compromise leads to others and eventually that movement is so far away.  The fact is that women can do everything.  We are the pinnacle of creation, the final being created and the most God-like in our ability to give life.  If women are so involved with the prayer leadership that the men get pushed aside, it’s not a good thing.  I’ve seen in many of the synagogues that I’ve visited on your concert tours that the men have opted out.  It’s like they are saying, “Oh great, you women have this handled!  I’ll just watch a ball game or get more work done.” Men clearly need to have their participation compulsory.  To be wrapped up in leather and bound to synagogue leadership and mitzvot.  Women are connected to God more naturally.  Men just won’t show up unless they feel that it’s up to them to keep Judaism going.  I vote that we not take their job away.

How do you feel about the emphasis of separate roles for men and women?

I believe that the genders are VERY different and efforts to blend them are foolhardy.  I heard Lori Palatnik, the incredible founder of the Jewish Women’s Initiative say, “Men need to be respected and women need to be loved.  I don’t know why!”  In other words, there are God-given realities here that we shouldn’t mess with.  Most men want to be head of the household and get respect from their wives and children.  Women want to be worshipped, to be made to feel that they are their husband’s only priority.  If they don’t feel like they are number one, they feel hated.  If their husbands are always busy with their buddies, obsessing over their hobbies or up all night with porn, it’s sending the message “you are not enough for me.”  I’m sure that our forefather Jacob loved both Leah and Rachel.  But because he loved Rachel more, the Torah tells us that Leah felt hatred.

I’m comfortable with femininity and support your masculinity.  I like that you take initiative in guiding our family’s destiny, plan our vacations or that you get the guys to go out on the town for your “Pico Men’s Club” outings.  I’ve learned not to criticize you in front of others or to gossip about you.  I like that you take a leadership role on Shabbat.  I’m careful never to undermine you with our kids or say, “Who cares what dad says” when making decisions. I see friends roll their eyes when their husbands make dumb comments.  It’s all about body language.  I’m not perfect but I do feel you flourish when you feel respected.  And you do a great job in complimenting me, expressing desire for me and making me feel loved.  And you take out the trash, as long as I remind you.

Yes, dear.

TGIF

Tuesday, January 20th, 2015

By Sam Glaser

I am who I am thanks to Shabbat. Thanks to this biblically mandated ancient institution I have peace of mind, a flourishing community, a great relationship with my spouse and children and a career where I traverse the country singing its praises.  I always enjoyed Shabbat as a kid. Our Friday night dinners were filled with singing, great food and extended family.  But the real magic of Shabbat was revealed only when I dove into the supernal pool of these twenty-five hour weekly rest days with total abandon, no turning back.

I was advised early on not to tell anyone that I was Shomer Shabbat (fully Sabbath observant) until I was all the way there. Otherwise I might get caught weaseling out of a family function that I didn’t really want to attend but making an exception for a reunion concert of a favorite rock band.  It took me six years once I began the process of learning about the intricacies of Shabbat and actually taking it on 100%.  I’m glad I did the baby-step routine; it made every hour that I added onto my sacred day a personal discovery, a triumph.

I found that there is a power in “closing the loop,” creating a new reality by taking on Shabbat in all of it’s facets regardless of any extenuating circumstances.  I guess it’s a bit like the institution of marriage, but here the spouse to whom you are promising fidelity is the Creator of the Universe.  I describe this level of commitment as the difference between inflating a balloon with helium that is perforated versus one that is intact. Try to fill a balloon with holes and it never gets off the ground. But when you close up that last escape hatch for that gas to escape, you now possess a craft that can fly to the highest atmosphere.  I didn’t really understand this until I was “in.” Strange as it sounds, I have found that building an unbreakable relationship with Shabbat has allowed me to soar, to dwell in a parallel universe.

When you meet someone who has become Sabbath Observant you can be pretty sure you are dealing with someone of bulletproof integrity. Someone whose word is his or her bond, who can handle commitment.  Sabbath observers typically have inculcated the value of restraint, of postponing gratification for a greater good.  Now when an exciting outing or a gig opportunity will trample my holy Sabbath, there can be only one answer.  Ask any Ba’al Teshuva (one who has taken on Jewish tradition) if they can imagine life without Shabbat.  I can guarantee you that he or she wouldn’t trade this precious weekly taste of paradise for the world.

Every week our home is whitewashed: sheetschanged, floors scrubbed and a fresh batch of flowers festoons even the bathrooms. We wear our best clothes, enjoy a multi-course feast in the dining room with our crystal goblets and polished silver, singing songs both sacred and secular and offering words of Torah.  We also do a lot of laughing together, play board and card games and tell stories.  Of course, when we have guests we take the meal up a notch, drink l’chaims and go around the table so guests can introduce themselves and perhaps mention something special from the past week for which they are grateful. Thanks to my incredible wife, our Shabbat table is the stuff of Pico-Robertson legend and I’m told that obtaining an invite is considered an “E-ticket” opportunity.

We are members of four synagogues in our unusual neighborhood and I do my best to “shul-hop” based on my mood, a sudden intuition or whichever shul among the fifty within walking distance has a special speaker or simcha. Happily, wherever I show up I am usually coaxed into leading the davening.  I generally say yes regardless of my level of exhaustion. There are lots of things that one can’t do on Shabbat.  I can tell you now that our community is very busy doing the things you can!  That’s eating, drinking, praying, shmoozing, spending time with family and perhaps most importantly, taking a much needed, luxurious nap on Saturday afternoon.

Our family has no physical record of any Shabbat or Holiday celebration for the past few decades.  No photos of my wife’s beautifully set tables, videos of our raucous singing or transcription of the many scintillating discussions. Shabbat is truly an island in time, a dimension that cannot be grasped with cameras or recording devices.  It is the stuff of ephemera and it would make little sense to attempt to commemorate the experience to be enjoyed later on. You won’t find a Shabbat photo album or a video of a Glaser seder. Funny how these special days are ineffable, transient and yet are the most real things in our lives.

Thanks to the extensive preparation required, Shabbat is something that we celebrate all week.  My wife saves her best recipes for the festive meals and spends the week planning the guest list and visiting various markets and bakeries for ingredients.  I read the weekly Torah portion while eating my cereal each morning so that I am in sync with the entire Jewish world and have something novel to share at my Shabbat meals.  I make sure the dry cleaning is picked up by Friday so that we all have our Shabbas clothes pressed and ready. When we do all these things, we try to keep the awareness that these mundane weekly activities are done l’kavod Shabbat (to honor Shabbat.) I must admit that I also binge on my work on Wednesday and Thursday nights knowing that I have Shabbat coming to catch up on my sleep.

Becoming Shomer Shabbat requires a temporal shift in the perspective of one’s week.  This is hinted to in the laws regarding Havdalah, the ceremony with which we commemorate the Sabbath’s departure on Saturday night.  If you miss saying Havdalah on Saturday night you can say it up until sunset of Tuesday.  That’s because Sunday, Monday and Tuesday day are considered in the “shadow” of the previous Shabbat.  From Tuesday night and on we are in the space anticipating the upcoming Shabbat.  I think that the lesson here is that the day of rest is not the “end” of the week, like reaching the finish line after a six days of work and then collapsing.  Instead it is the centerpiece of every week, the pinnacle, the raison d’être.  Perhaps the best symbol of this is the golden menorah in the Temple, with its primary central branch and the three on either side that angled towards it. Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach used to say during his very long Havdalah services that the Kiddush we make in this ceremony isn’t just to separate the sacred from the profane, it’s to inject the profane with the sacred.  When Shabbat and a God-focused, holy life is the center of our week, we float on an exalted raft of blessing upon the raging river of life.  We innately perceive that the energy of the previous Shabbat is only three days behind us and another life giving, faith-building day is imminent.

The prayers on Shabbat are longer and hopefully more musical than their weekday counterpart. Shabbat is the time when a mourner’s chiyuv (halachic priority) to lead the service is superseded by the importance of having a trained chazzan with natural musical leadership ability.  The celebration starts with a final weekday Mincha (afternoon) service and segues into the special Kabbalat Shabbat ceremony to welcome the Sabbath bride. Then evening prayers are followed by a festive meal. On Saturday we have extra prayers in the Psukei D’zimra (Psalms of praise) and Shema section plus the inclusion of Mussaf to commemorate the additional sacrifice in biblical times.  Add that to the full-length Torah readings and you have a nearly three-hour marathon that can exhaust even the most penitent.  It doesn’t help that the halacha stipulates that one shouldn’t eat before services but must wait until hearing Kiddush.  Therefore, I recommend to newcomers that they take their time nurturing this acquired taste.  In other words, yes, optimally you should be in the synagogue for all the prayers, but no, you shouldn’t do so if it makes you want to tear your hair out.  A good indication of your frustration level is if you start counting how many pages are left in the prayer book.  If you come a bit later to services, then you can incorporate your public prayer daily requirement in measured doses.

It’s hard to imagine that there was a time when there was no Kabbalat Shabbat ceremony. This beautiful series of Psalms and songs that ushers in our holy day was initiated in Tsfat only 600 years ago…that makes it a new service, compared the rest of our 2500-year-old siddur. I think those kabbalists chose a specific set of tehillim (Psalms) in order to fill us with a sense of wonder in terms of God’s power as revealed in nature.  All of the passages vividly describe either lofty mountains, rushing rivers, heaving oceans or thunderous storms, hopefully allowing us to recall intense personal experiences of the Divine that we have had in beautiful natural surroundings. Just think of a time when you witnessed a spectacular waterfall, crashing waves or a perfectly silent, snowy scene. What typically happens in a nature moment is that your ever-present ego takes a short break and a palpable awareness of God’s presence fills the vacuum. In fact, Kabbalat Shabbat allows us to experience a degree of passion that is typically not a part of the Ma’ariv service.  The spoken word is our basic mode of communication, the next level is song, and when you just can’t contain your joy another moment, spontaneous dance is the only appropriate outlet!  When I’m leading a Sabbath program I try to get even the stodgiest congregation on their feet and dancing around the sanctuary.

Sometimes I wonder where I get the drive and discipline to be so machmir (strict) with my Sabbath and holiday observance.  I certainly didn’t start out life this way, and taking on such a profound and seemingly inconvenient commitment might seem out of reach.  Especially when even avoiding sugar for a day is impossible! Obviously I’m aided by having a great community that is dedicated to celebrating these holy days according to the letter of the law. It’s also helpful to have my family unified in sharing the adventure.  But I think in my case, there might be something more operating here behind the scenes.  I’d like to share a few stories that may indicate a celestial merit that has come down from my ancestors that is keeping our family on this path of righteousness.

The first story involves my great grandmotherLena Barenfeld, for whom my daughter Sarah Lena is named.  My brother, Rabbi Yom Tov was waiting for his El Al flight to depart when an attendant came down the aisle looking for a Mr. Glaser. Yom Tov raised his hand and she told him that there was another seat for him closer to the front.  A rabbi a few rows back said, “You’re Rabbi Glaser?”  This leader in the Ponevezh Yeshiva had heard that there were some Ba’al Teshuva Glasers out there and he wanted to verify a certain yeshiva legend.  He motioned for Yom Tov to join him in the seat next to him and told him this tale.

One auspicious evening in the late 40’s the Ponevezher Rav, Rabbi Kahaneman paid Lena and her husband Abraham a visit to raise funds for his new yeshiva. The rav was attempting to restore the grandeur of his formidable scholarly community that had been obliterated in the holocaust.  This new beis midrash (house of study) would be built in Israel within the legendary ancient rabbinic stronghold of B’nei Brak.  I imagine that my great grandpa Abe had his fill of such “shnorrers” and sent the rav away with a small donation.  Before he left, my great grandma entered the room and cried, “My children have strayed so far from Torah and I am heartbroken.  I don’t have even one member of my extended family Shomer Shabbas.  If you can bless us that some of my progeny will become Shomer Shabbat, we will dedicate the cornerstone of the beis midrash.” The rav then gave her this blessing and the rest is history.  This year I was honored to share this story and perform at the West Coast Ponevezh banquet and this yeshiva has now grown to become the leading Litvak institutiion in Israel to date.

The next story occurred shortly after I had starting keeping Shabbat in 1992.  It’s a long tale but I have to spell out the details in order to elucidate it properly.  My brother Yom Tov had just returned from his first year in yeshiva in Jerusalem. Our family was overjoyed to see how much he had grown spiritually and that just behind that scraggly beard was the charismatic Johnny that we adored.  Yom Tov and I have always bonded over action sports.  We’ve never been able to sit still and watch a ball game on TV; we much prefer to explore the backcountry on our mountain bikes or hit the surf.  That first weekend he was back we made plans to join a group of old friends for a weekend of fun in our beloved Joshua Tree National Park. A mere two hours from our home lies this rock-ridden patch of desert that is nothing short of an alien moonscape, perfect for climbing, biking and camping.

We set off that Friday morning in my trusty Toyota Supra that was packed to the brim with camping gear and our two mountain bikes strapped to the rack. A half hour down the road my car started to overheat.  It clearly was not up for the task of this arduous drive and thankfully it broke down near a friend’s home. We pulled into his driveway and earnestly begged to use his truck for the weekend. “Sure,” he said, “as soon as you unload the cord of firewood in the back.”  We frantically stacked the prodigious pile of lumber against his garage, transferred our gear and set off in his rickety 4×4. Unfortunately, an hour down the road, while doing eighty in the fast lane we had an explosive tire blowout.  Now we were stuck on the wrong side of the 10 Freeway and it took an eternity for a cop to show up and radio for a tow truck…hard to imagine how we ever survived without cell phones!

We waited for what felt like hours as the shop replaced the tire and charged $100 that I was not very excited to spend.  At last we were on the road again and it soon dawned on us that it was increasingly unlikely that we were going to make it to Joshua Tree by sundown. Still, we pressed ahead, hoping for a miracle.  Shortly before candle lighting we had a tense dialog regarding the state of affairs.  I was still at a point in my observance where I could rationalize that we should finish the trip and we’d take on Shabbas as soon as we would arrive. That is not a liberty that I would take today. My brother, however, said no, we will not drive even a minute after Shabbas comes in, even if we have to spend the day on the side of the freeway.

I have to explain that at this time in history, there was almost no civilization between LA and Palm Springs.  Just a few “one horse” towns with gas stations and fast food joints; certainly not the continuous metropolis that one finds today. We spotted a motel at the next exit and screeched off the interchange, only to find that it was out of business.  I saw a look of panic in my brother’s eyes as he commandeered our friend’s pickup back onto the freeway in search of another option. With sundown looming, we pulled off at the next exit and parked in the first motel we saw.  We immediately started throwing our property to the door of one of the units and I scampered to the front desk to check in. Just as the sun hit the horizon we had the last of our valuables inside and we high-fived each other, thrilled that we had a roof over our heads to celebrate this unusual Shabbat.

We prayed with a special intensity and enjoyed a delectable feast that my mother had lovingly prepared for our journey. We sang, danced and jumped on the beds until we realized that we were totally exhausted from the day’s exploits. Now we had another problem. The lights were on in the room and neither of us would turn them off. I checked the front desk and found that no one was there.  I noticed a young black couple in the room next door.  I gingerly knocked on the door and a clearly disconcerted, wide-eyed man peered out through the crack.  I explained that we wanted to go to sleep but the light was on. You see, when asking a non-Jew to do an act forbidden to a Jew on Shabbat, you can’t mention the exact thing you want him to do. He has to intuit the requisite action and choose to do it on his own volition.  Anyway, while this man looked at me with incredulity that I would make such a ridiculous statement, my brother stepped in and said, “you see, we are really tired and it would be great if it were dark enough to sleep.” With this, the man slammed the door shut, gathered his girlfriend and drove off into the night.

The next day we wandered the streets of this backwater town.  It was called Banning and we joked as we passed the few stores that they were “banning liquor” and “banning police.” After walking off our bodacious lunch we returned to the room for a nap and then after darkness fell, promptly checked out and finished that last forty minutes of our drive up to Joshua Tree. We rejoiced around the campfire with our worried friends and toasted to our zany Shabbat experience.  The next day we climbed the incredible boulders of this national park and enjoyed a memorable mountain bike ride down the sandy, cactus-lined trails.

Yes, the story has an epilogue: A few months later I attended a family holiday get together.  I told my dear Uncle Charlie the saga of our amusing Shabbas debacle getting stuck in this hick town.  When I finished the tale Charlie blanched and didn’t respond for a few moments. Then he said, “Sammy, are you telling me that you and your brother spent Shabbas in Banning?” “Yes, Uncle Charlie. What’s the big deal?”  He replied, “Do you know anything about Banning?” “Yes,” I said with a grin, “they are banning police and liquor!”  He looked at me sternly and said, “Sam, your grandfather, for whom you are named, founded the town of Banning.  And at that time in his life, as his garment business grew, Shabbas had to take a back seat to overseeing the production in his new factory. Do you see that you and Johnny, his descendants have created a tikkun, a healing? You kept Shabbas in Banning!  What do you think of that?

The fact is that most of us Jewish folks have great grandparents who were deeply connected to Shabbat and are pulling strings for us upstairs.  Just imagine that since the time of Moses, the freight train of Jewish history has been thundering along the tracks, powered by the eternal connection with Mount Sinai.  Tragically, in our days we see that many of the cars have derailed.  You can be the one to help get the train back on track. There’s a supernatural reason that our souls feel good when we affiliate, when we do a mitzvah.  Perhaps it’s assuaging our Jewish guilt or a subliminal attraction to members of the tribe.  Or maybe it’s all those ancestors rallying for you behind the scenes shouting, “Go, go, go, go, go!”

I wish all my readers a Good Shabbas!  Thank God it’s Friday!  And if it’s not Shabbas today, just know that it’s coming soon.

100 Blessings Everyday

Friday, December 20th, 2013

by Sam Glaser

Observant Jews can fly under the radar most of the time if they so choose. There is no law that states one must dress like a Chassid; one can wear a baseball hat, jeans and sneakers and blend.  The only day that’s problematic is Shabbat. For the uninitiated, Sabbath observance seems strange at best, alien at worst.  During weekdays, however, other than making sure kosher food is on hand, we can appear just like the Joneses next door.  That is, until we start to make blessings.

Well before I started keeping Shabbat I remember working with my first Orthodox recording clients. I was helping a pair of songwriting rabbis from Israel make their musical dreams come true.  I noticed that every few minutes they would start muttering to themselves.  I finally could hold my curiosity no longer and said, “Excuse me? What did you just say?” One of the rabbis explained he was making an “after-bracha” for the water he had consumed.  Evidently after he gulped down water from his cup he had about twenty minutes to thank God for the liquid refreshment.  And of course, before he drank he made a blessing as well. Because we were continuously munching, a time honored tradition in recording studios, that made for a lot of brachot.

All I could think was, “mutant alert!”  Now that I realized what was going on, I swore I would never indulge in such obsessive-compulsive behavior. In the end, their album came out great and I must admit that I eventually got used to their mumbling moments.  Fast forward a few years to a class with Rabbi Abner Weiss who declared that nothing must enter the mouth of a Jew without being preceded by a proper blessing.  That taking something from God’s creation for our sustenance without acknowledgement was tantamount to theft. I was incredulous that even a sip of water required a blessing.  But the rabbi insisted that these formulas were easily memorized and would make every pang of hunger an opportunity for spiritual connection.

I started with a simple “shehakol nihiyeh bidvaro,” the blessing for the generic foodstuff category, and worked my way up from there.  I soon learned to distinguish an adama (vegetable) from an eitz (tree fruit – not entirely intuitive, I found out,) and a mezonot from a motzi.  Once I got those down, itwasn’t long before I began to tackle the after-blessings. Thanks to my Conservative upbringing I was well acquainted with Birkat Hamazon in all its melodic glory. Somehow I had never been taught that this lengthy prayer/song was necessary only if one had consumed bread. Thankfully the after-blessings for most other foods are far shorter and easily learned and before long, just by making a habit of saying them at the appropriate time, I had them memorized.

Soon I was mumbling with the best of them. Actually, I was saying my blessings aloud so that I could give my friends an opportunity to “second the motion” with an enthusiastic “AMEN.”  Also, I realized that I could teach my newborn Max the blessings by example if I enunciated them.  Now I was a mutant just like my rabbi clients!  Anyone spending any length of time with me would inevitably wonder what strange incantation I kept reciting.  I found that blessings were a great conversation starter assuming one wanted to talk about matters of the spirit.  In fact, I can think of no better method of “v’dibarta bam” from the Shema, the commandment to actively speak about the mitzvot in one’s day to day.  Once you start discussing the system of blessings, the subject usually is uplifted from the secular into matters of mindfulness, connecting with God and elevating mundane acts.

I eventually learned that we have blessings after using the bathroom, upon seeing a wise person or hearing a clap of thunder. Just passing a rose garden allows for the opportunity for a blessing when you bend over to take a whiff. Excited about some new clothes? Make a Shehechiyanu! In fact, our Talmud recommends a daily requirement of uttering at least one hundred blessings everyday. Sound like a lot? Well, just by davening three times a day and blessing your food you are good to go! Bottom line: blessings open the heart, allow you to slow down and regain your humanity and keep you in a perpetual “attitude of gratitude.” Yes, an apple a day keeps the doctor away, just don’t forget the proper blessing…and at least ninety-nine others!

Last month I had some wonderful fans spend several days with me on the road. They drove from their hometown to see a show and had me return my rental car so that they could drive me to the next two towns on my itinerary. That way they heard three concerts and it gave us several hours to bond. Having them with me gave me fresh incentive to vary the songs in my set list just so they wouldn’t get bored!  Inevitably, blessings were the first topic of conversation. After all, I kept lapsing into brachot and looking at them funny if I didn’t get an amen. As we rolled down the highway I helped them commit to memory the whole system of blessings and we laughed together as they slowly improved.

One caveat of becoming too adept at blessings: it’s easy to mindlessly utter the words at a blinding pace.  Yes, it beats the alternative of no blessing at all.  But the genius of the system is lost in the shuffle as the sweet name of God is slurred and the sentiment becomes meaningless.  In fact, I find it best to take a moment before saying the first “baruch” and focus on the miraculous nature of the food that I hold in my hand.  Just to take that shiny red apple, for example, and behold that it is nutritious and juicy, is fragrant and tasty, comes wrapped in it’s own skin so you can throw it in your backpack, and HOLDS WITHIN THE SEEDS TO MAKE MORE APPLES JUST LIKE IT!  Then my “borey p’ri ha-eitz” blessing is earth shattering! That simple fruit serves to blow my mind, to remind me just what a gift life is, and how intensely our Creator loves and maintains us.

Rabbi Natan Lopes Cardozo calls blessings the entry into a state of “radical amazement.”  He describes religious life as a rejection of taking anything for granted.  There is no place for the “same old same old.”  A religious person seizes every opportunity to live with a sense of wonder and refuses to allow his or her senses to be dulled by repetition.  Much of the time when I point out a stunning sunset or spectacular moon, my kids shrug, “yeah, whatever dad. Saw it yesterday.” The only thing that prevents Technicolor sunsets from utterly shocking us is their frequency.  As one who wants to remain shocked at the vibrancy of life, I have attuned myself to maintain a sense of wonder, to make every moment an “aha” moment.

Walking along the beach in frigid San Francisco last night, a reality-challenged woman stopped my friend and me in our tracks by blurting out, “You two must be actors!” She then engaged us in a rambling conversation that covered multiple subjects and was astonished at the “coincidence” that we had met.  My buddy said, “C’mon Sam…stop talking to this loon!” But I was enjoying her spiritual insights and I must admit I washumored by her rants.  Before we left her company I gave her a blessing and sang her a song that I customized for her on the spot.  She joined in the chorus and promised that we would be lifelong friends. What was an annoyance for my friend was a source of mirth for me. I try to allow myself to be swept along in a continuous series of opportunities, much like Ferris Buehler on a continuous day off. My brother Yom Tov refers to this outlook as, “rather than seeing the world as a jungle, it’s a jungle gym.”  Just like I make blessings over my food and extraordinary events, I can offer blessings to others, even strangers on the beach. I feel that blessings can lift us into a parallel universe, one of constant connection and gratitude to our Creator and all living things.

At my Shabbat dinner table I give my children a blessing using the same words with which my father blessed me, based on the words that have been handed down since Aharon, the first Cohen (priest.) I remember a powerful realization just before my first son was born: I was going to have a child to bless! What an awesome responsibility! What did I know about blessings? What a chutzpah for me to bless anyone! This awareness gave me serious incentive to further research my heritage…after all, I had to build myself into a source of blessing if I was going to be blessing others. But the fact is that we don’t need a college degree to bless others…we just need to summon our God-given gifts of compassion and insight.

I often offer our Shabbas guests a bracha and many take me up on it. One of our frequent guests was a ninety-something next-door neighbor who graced our table for over a decade until she left this world. One Shabbat she mentioned that she had never before received a bracha, so I gave her the most heartfelt one I could muster. Our other guests thought I was just joking around but then witnessed her bursting into tears and thanking me profusely. I recognized at that moment that we have tremendous power to bestow blessing on one another. Blessings are real! Just like we uplift the act of eating by blessing God beforehand, so too can we uplift our relationships with our words of support and encouragement. By serving as a source of blessing we best emulate God, creating a karma loop of “blessing vibes” into a world hungry for light and hope, a light that I believe comes right back to support us.

One final thought: I find it much easier to remember to bless my food before I eat than after I’m done.  Our rabbis teach that in fact, I’m not alone…this is a common problem. Surprisingly, it’s the after blessing that is more important in Jewish law.  Thanking God after we are satiated is a direct commandment from our Torah, whereas the pre-blessing is a rabbinic mitzvah.  I think this makes a lot of sense: the time we are most likely to forget our myriad gifts is when we are fat and satisfied.  Wealthy people are less likely to run to their place of worship and cry for God’s help in their lives.  When we are needy we are more likely to pray with passion. As the saying goes, there is no atheist in a foxhole.  The rabbis set specific times for the after-blessing of each food group so that we would retain a state of gratitude even though we were happy and our bellies full. What a life lesson this is! This system of blessings gets us in the habit of remembering God in the bad times AND the good times. We don’t wait for a tragedy, God forbid, to initiate a relationship. When we are satisfied, happy, content with our lot, THAT is best time to share our lives with God.

If you want to increase blessings in your life, make more blessings! Jews are in this world to teach others to thank God, in fact, “to thank” (hoda) is at the root of word Yehudi (Jew!) A good place to start learning the nuances of blessings is this website.  Best to spend an hour to commit the list to memory so that you don’t have to fumble for a siddur each time you reach for your water bottle. Thanks to all of you, my dear readers and listeners, for blessing me with your friendship.

The Possible You

Wednesday, December 19th, 2012

by Sam Glaser

December is a time for new possibilities. Thanks to “holiday spirit” the world becomes a kinder, more colorful place.  I just returned from Manhattan where the midtown buildings were transformed into magnificently wrapped presents. Even the cops were friendly. December means that our fiscal year is ending and we ponder what we might do differently when January comes around.  Inclement weather demands that we spend less time outdoors, more time with inside activities that make us more internal, intellectual, introspective. The Torah portions of the season deal with dreamers; between Jacob, Joseph, the butcher, baker and Pharaoh we have eight dreams to cross-reference and inspire our own musings.  Finally, Chanukah calls on us to fill the darkest, shortest days of the year with light and we are challenged to unveil our own unique light unto the world.

Wintertime is usually high season in my tour schedule. As soon as the High Holidays are over, the synagogues and JCCs that I visit are back in cultural arts mode, peaking with the week of Chanukah when just about every institution has a celebration of some sort.  This is the period for me to live my possibilities, to fulfill this sweet life-task of creating programs of uplift and enthusiasm and deepening Jewish connections.  I’m often asked how I can get on airplanes every other weekend, leave my family yet again, pack my clothes, shlep my luggage, sleep in funky beds and subsist on bagels and cream cheese.  I often respond, “well, I have three kids in Jewish day school.”

SamPraySeattle

What’s really driving me? I’ve been averaging between 40-50 cities a year since 1997. Sixteen years later, that’s a lot of cities, a lot of flights and a lot of bagels.  The impetus for all these adventures starts with the songs.  I don’t ask for my songs. Most of them are midnight gifts that I awaken to and stumble across the house to record so that I don’t awaken my wife.  They accumulate and create an unspoken but palpable psychological pressure with an unmistakable mantra: “record me now!” Nascent songs beget the late hours of intensive concocting in my studio, which beget more albums, which beget more concert tours so that I can get them out to my beloved listeners.  My joy of singing, tickling the ivories and cajoling audiences into states of delirious Jewish happiness creates the environment for more songs and the cycle starts yet again.

Milestones tend to make us more reflective. 2012 marks the twentieth year since my first Jewish CD Hineni was released. (actually, it was on cassette…now that really dates me!) This month also marks my fiftieth birthday, on a day I’m lucky enough to share with my musical hero, Beethoven. This is truly a season of introspection for me. What are my possibilities?  How can I take this composing-performing cycle to the next level? What is the legacy I want to leave?  What can I do to combat the assimilation and indifference that I have personally witnessed over the course of my career? How can I be the best husband, son, father and friend?  How can I truly transform the universe using my unique gifts?

I had a revelation this month that I’d like to share. Sometimes when I’m interviewed by Jewish newspapers or DJs I’m asked how a Jewish music performance or workshop can effect lasting change. The fact is that I do my shtick and then hit the road, making no guarantees for the efficacy of my message.   I respond that I try to make the deepest impression possible in my concerts and workshops and then I leave a “review course” in the form of my CDs.  It is my hope that my chosen art form spins for years in cars and computers, regaling my listeners with what I like to think of as “audio Judaica.”  I also keep the channels of communication open via email and Facebook. Still, a little voice inside queries if there another way I can be part of the solution, to better uplift my audiences.

My brother, Rabbi Yom Tov Glaser has another method of inspiring transformation.  Like me, he performs and teaches for a living. But I now see that there is a tremendous difference in our approach, thanks to “The Possible You,” a powerful seminar that he has founded. He takes responsibility for every one of the attendees in his Jerusalem-based twenty-hour program.  He will work with anyone who is not getting it, and relentlessly pursue those who bail before “graduation.” With an intensely paced delivery of profound insights coupled with music, visual aids and group sharing, a crucial set of life tools are communicated to the full spectrum of learners in all modalities.  The results are nothing short of astounding and my brother’s reputation is growing exponentially.  He has cobbled The Possible You from the wisdom of Kabbalah, Mussar and Tanach. It’s tailor-made for the Jewish neshama.  Now with several thousand graduates, myself included, I see The Possible You changing the world.

I’m one of his first trainees.  It’s a bit strange to take orders from my little brother. But my sibling has become a giant and I am honored that I get to learn from him. My heart is swelling with nachas that I had a small hand in nudging him onto his path. We’re best friends.  I believe that it is natural that our trajectories on this planet are colliding, for the good of the Jewish People and the world. We’ve spent a lifetime pulling all-nighters deep in conversation regarding the transformation of the world and ourselves.  Over the years Yom Tov has sent me to various seminars to learn the language and witness the potential for this work. Finally this last week I got to see him in action firsthand.

I just spent an amazing week with my brother in the Boro Park shtetl of New York and then afterwards we met up in LA.  These were his first two Possible You seminars on US soil.  His first group was primarily Chassidic and the second was hip LA twenty-somethings.  I can’t properly describe the experience of witnessing the growth and clarity gained by such diverse audiences in such a short span of time.  Participants work in new realms of trust and commitment, connecting with truth, respect for one another, respect for themselves.

Over twenty hours, strangers become allies and loving friends, taking a stand for each other’s success in life. They open the door to estranged family members and experience real healing for wounds gathered over life’s journey. It sounds too good to be true, right?  I wouldn’t have believed it if I didn’t see it with my own eyes.

I’m excited to use my experience connecting with a diverse cross section of US Jewry to tweak The Possible You for North American audiences.  I’ll be offering the workshop one weekend a month starting in February 2013, primarily in LA, but also on the road in conjunction with the concerts and Shabbatons that I lead.  I’m not sure if this is the “next thing” that will fulfill my midlife urgings, but it seems like an organic extension of what I offer to the world and my unique relationship with my brother.  I hope not only to help in the lives of participants but to train others in the delivery of this unique process. Most importantly, I will be working in a new realm where I don’t just sing and split, where I can take the time to connect more deeply and take active responsibility for each participant’s progress.

I’m reminded of a favorite vort (Torah thought) on the fact that when God hears the cry of the Jewish People during our slavery, the word for cry is in the plural. Why? Because God hears our cry before we actually are in such pain that we are crying aloud. This is a great lesson for improving interpersonal relationships. Think of friends that might be crying on the inside. A real mentsch doesn’t wait for his or her friend’s problems to escalate! The vort finishes with an idea that blows my mind: Read the passage in Exodus, “I (God) will redeem you with an outstretched arm” very carefully. Perhaps the intention of this line is that God redeems all those who have their arm outstretched to others. I hope to use this next chapter of my life to keep my arm outstretched, to perceive the silent cries of my brothers and sisters, to be more than a fleeting source of entertainment.

On a practical note, I need some guinea pigs to take the ride with me on my first Possible You in LA. I welcome any of my dear readers to join us for a three-day action-packed weekend of bliss February 9/10/11. Yes, you have to sit for twenty hours. But it could be the best twenty hours of your life! Thanks to a generous benefactor who is a graduate, scholarships are available. Let me know if you are interested…details to follow on my website.

I invite my readers to make this holiday season a powerful time to realize possibilities. For yourself, for your community, for Israel, for the planet. Let us take stock in what is truly important. Let’s strive to live in that important/not urgent quadrant. Let us lay the groundwork for our legacy and ensure that we have no regrets along the way. What do you want your own eulogy to sound like? Where are your priorities? Who could use a phone call from you today? May all of our spirits soar like the sweet, holy flames on our menorah and may we merit redemption speedily in our days.

Ode to the 8-Track

Wednesday, May 11th, 2011
by Sam Glaser

 

8TrackGrowing 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.

 

About three times a year our family would load up into our nine passenger Olds Vista Cruiser, equipped with skylights, a 450cc V8 and a trusty tape deck.On our way to Lake Tahoe, Arizona or Colorado we would sing at the top of our lungs with our favorite thirty-two 8-track tapes. That’s all that would fit in the black vinyl carrying case and that’s about all the music we owned.  We had several Beatles albums, War, Tower of Power, Carole King, Roberta Flack, Joni Mitchell, Temptations,vista cruiserShostakovich 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.

 

I’d like to share an epiphany I had at an LA Philharmonic concert last week.  It was a perfect, sunny spring Sunday and I was knee deep in over thirty vocal arrangements for the half dozen CDs I am juggling for clients.  I was about to embark on 25 hours of background vocal sessions with some of the finest singing specialists that I know.  These sessions aren’t cheap to run and I wanted to make sure that every piece was ready to go with all the vocal parts, lyrics and recording templates prepared.  Midday I glanced at my calendar and remembered that the LA Phil was presenting a matinee of Beethoven’s 5th at 2pm.  One voice in my head said: “Sam, just buckle down and get these charts done.”  The victorious voice said: “you deserve a break today…” I hadn’t heard this immortal masterpiece in years and I couldn’t pass up the pleasure of hearing it performed by one of the greatest orchestras in the world in Disney Hall, one of the greatest concert halls ever constructed.

 

No, I didn’t have tickets.  And no, that doesn’t matter. There are always seats.  I have a maxim that is particularly relevant in an entertainment town like LA: you don’t get in the show if you don’t go.  In other words, “if you build it, he will come.”  I found an amazing seat for cheap just beforeDisney Hallthe 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.

 

Here’s the epiphany.  I grew up getting to know certain pieces of music very deeply.  The power of knowing every crevice of my records or the wow and flutter of every 8-track creates an unmistakable magic when I revisit that music.  Repetition and commitment deepens the experience…and isn’t depth what we want out of life? After the concert I wandered downtown LA uplifted, recharged and filled with a sense of possibilities.  Rather than go right back to work I crossed the street and visited the Museum of Contemporary Art.  What a collection!  I must be a fan since I knew the names of most artists without having to look at the descriptions. The most powerful (and valuable) pieces of art are those where the creator limited him or herself to a certain medium and theme.  Rothko’s rectangles of sultry color. Jackson Pollack’s monochrome splatters.  Jasper John’s maps and flags.

 

My children on the other hand have grown up with unrefined chaos in the form of millions of YouTube videos, online games and the App Store.  All geared for a five-minute attention span.  They don’t leave home without the iPod/iPad.  Unlimited songs for free forever. And thousands more appearing daily.  It’s impossible to keep up with what’s new and knowing what’s hot is increasingly irrelevant.  There will be something hotter in a few hours.  With the landscape changing so radically everyday, there is no opportunity to make a deep musical connection.  Other than my songs, which my kids are forced to listen to just by living here, their musical diet is as fickle as KISS FM.ipad2

 

The repercussions are significant.  Are our kids processing relationships in the same way?  Instant satisfaction online does not translate well in “meat-space.”  A great conversation takes hours to nurture before one reaches revelatory territory.   So too with friendships, professional experience and reputations. There is no quick fix for the test of time.  If we didn’t kick the kids out of the house, their play dates would consist of observing each other texting, playing video games or watching The 70’s Show.  My son tries to hide his distraction when his phone vibrates with a new text. Over 2500 a month.  I smile as he fumbles for where he left off in the discussion.

 

One of my favorite rabbis, Natan Lopes Cardozo from Jerusalem, comments on the essential difference between Beethoven and Bach.  Bach was a dutiful adherent to the “rules” of music in his days.  In spite of his discipline we hear vast creativity within the confines of this Baroque construct.  Beethoven, on the other hand, broke with these accepted rules and liberated music much the way the Beatles rescued rock and roll from the doo-wop of the 50’s.  Not to dis ole Ludwig V. but there is a certain power in Bach’s approach.  Cardozo quotes the philosopher Goethe stating, “In limitation does the master really prove himself and it is only the law which can provide us with freedom.”

 

Does this sound familiar?  As we march from Pesach to Shavuot, echoing the steps of our forefathers on their way from Egypt to Sinai, we relive the reality that true freedom is within the confines of Torah.  Learning a musical instrument takes tremendous discipline and hours of practice.  Learning to live as a Jew takes a lifetime of study to master the instrument of the soul. Like Bach, within the yoke of our Torah, we compress our creativity; we deepen our context and explode in our human potential.

 

ShavuotSinai 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.

 

Once a week we have the chance to recreate our commitment to our heavenly “spouse.” I have led nearly a thousand Shabbatons over the past twenty years. That seems to be my specialty, and anyone who has attended can testify that I take the celebration of Shabbat very seriously.   I, too, am driven to distraction, overwhelmed by data, news, economics and electronics. My friends, Shabbat is the very antidote to the iPod.  It’s the antidote to shallow connections with people, God, music, life.  Thanks to the restrictions of the day we are forced to deepen our focus on those things we can do, which are praying, eating, and spending quality time with one another.  That’s it.  Deep interactions, deep (and sometimes very long) prayers, great food accompanied by song, stories and laughter.  Shabbat serves as a bookend to a week of superficiality.   It gives context to the chaos, a refuge from the rat race.  Now I can’t imagine life without it.

 

Sixty years ago the 8-track tape made our favorite music portable.  A product of a simpler time, it allowed us to deepen our experience with the few dozen “desert island” albums we couldn’t live without.   It sowed the seeds for other such miraculous revolutions that allow us to keep our music close at hand.  Now I have a compass, chronograph, 12 feature films, a siddur, bible, hundreds of books, GPS, a word processor, camera, newspaper, web-browser, games and a jukebox in my pocket.  Yes, it’s a phone too.  Funny how with 1500 songs I still listen to the same 32 albums.  I have 4,300 Facebook friends but I still call my parents with big issues.  I love having choices. I don’t want to go back to my 8-track repertoire. But I’ll take my friendships deep, my food cooked with love and my God on God’s own terms.