On Blessings

I've been rereading parts of R. Lew's "Be Still and Get Going" on the basics of Jewish Mediation, partly because I need to get back into the habit myself, and partly because it was the only book in the house — until today — that I hadn't already read in the past three months.

He describes the wandering mind and getting back "into the moment," which he — as well as others — asserts is the point of meditation, its biggest benefit. The longer you practice, the easier mindfulness becomes, and the more it bleeds into your every day. Mindfulness is close to G-dliness, to borrow a phrase, because G-d is in the moment. "Ehyeh-Asher-Ehyeh," I was/am/will be who I was/am/will be, G-d tells Moses when he wants to know what name he should tell the Israelites — history, existence, and potential all wrapped in the only moment that counts: the now.

This struck me in terms of the Jewish tradition of blessing — a blessing for everything and everything with its blessing — that some find tedious, onerous or, worse, rote and mechanistic. Why do the rabbis insist we should say 100 blessings every day? So we should miss the soul of the universe going by as we utter nonesense? Exactly the opposite. We should be aware of our world, grateful for its bounty, mindful of its constant blessings.

If you haven't made the connection — and I didn't until last night — meditation helps us bless, and blessing is mindfulness of G-d's presence. So, a blessing on you that you should be more mindful and bless 100 times a day.

Dream, Brother

I wrote the rabbi last week with some of the questions I had — mostly for myself — on the last blog post. I have not yet heard back from him. Not surprising, as he's a busy man. I'll try back next week if there is still no answer. Hopefully, my email program will be back up and running by then.

Last night, though, I had a dream that I went to visit him. He was at a very crowded desk (though not nearly as much as his real one!), in a large basement for an industrial-type building that seemed otherwise to have been used last sometime in the 1950s. He looked up, glad to see me. I was glad to see him, too.

[Not part of the dream — we celebrated our first Shabbess in Seville last weekend. It was sweet, but a bit lonely and made us miss Beyt Tikkun a lot.]

We chatted for a while, and he asked me if I'd read the book he'd recommended. I don't recall what book it was or if it was real one. I told him that I had not. He commented on a recent email he'd sent out and asked my opinion. We chatted for a bit more, and then I asked him if he'd had a chance to read my email about the rabbinate. He said, "oh yeah, that. Let's go for a walk."

We walked outside, around what looked like condo complex. He was rather spry and walking briskly. He explained to me along the way that he didn't think it would be a good idea after all, my going to rabbinical school. "If you're looking to get political," he said, "it's not always good for people to know that you're coming from a spiritual perspective. It turns people off."

Then, dreamlike, we were joined by a few more folks, students, and we sat down for a Talmud lesson, which I also can't remember. End of dream.

It was good to see the rabbi, and talk, even if what he said was totally opposite of what he spends most of the time preaching!

This week, I want to find the congregation here in town. From what I understand, they're fairly traditional, but I'd like to get into the habit of daily minyan, and I can't do that alone. Once we're a bit more settled, I also want to start posting for a progressive English-language Kabballat Shabbat/minyan, to see if I get any takers out here.

Stepping Away

My favorite art period is impressionism because only when you step away does the painting come into focus. I feel like that's what's happening as I get farther and farther away from our lives in San Francisco. The preciousness of the friendships, bonds and community we had there gets clearer with every mile we drive away. Also, the shape of my life past and the signposts to what might be to come are becoming more evident.

Just as I write that last sentence, I have to check myself. On sleepless nights like these, when I get in the grip of a passion, the world crystallizes into a certainty that usually vanishes by morning. Even so, seeing my old friend Wendy today and talking ever briefly about the rabbinical school idea, I'm gripped once again. I think moments of transition call for thoughts of stability, a yin-yang. I expect that as we settle into life in Spain, where these competing forces are more equally balanced, my perspective will again shift.

Even so, the questions I need to explore seem pretty clear:

• Why do I want to do this?
• Is there something else I could do to fulfill this need?
• What will I do with it? (Is the answer to this different than that to the first?)
• Could I do these things in some other way?

Becoming?

Chag sameach, if a bit belatedly. This blog has gotten neglected a bit in my many goings-on relating to wine, food and Spain. We are on our way across the country right now, unemployed and homeless, so I find myself with more time on my hands.

I have also had an interesting turn of events as I was preparing to leave. In saying goodbye to Rabbi Lerner, he has started to encourage me to become a rabbi. The thought is not entirely his own, as it’s something I’ve half-seriously contemplated in the past. The rabbi, however, has put on the full-court pressure since our conversation, not letting a meeting go by without discussing it. As we broke the fast last week, he brought it up again. I hardly got any sleep that night, turning the idea around in my head very seriously for the first time.

After this many years, I have gotten to know myself and my passions. They run strong for a while before dissipating into nothing or becoming a real part of my psyche. So, I’m going to sit with this for a while and see where it goes. Christina likened it to the decision to get a tattoo — you let it percolate for about a year and then see how you feel about it. So, that will be the new energy for this blog: percolation.

It will be interesting to see what transpires in the course of the next year. From what I understand, Seville doesn’t have much of a (progressive) Jewish community, and Spain as a whole has very few Jews. I will be curious how our observances will play out and how that will affect my thoughts.

Stay tuned!