Making Space

Two parallel processes– making space within and making space around.

I’m working on creating space within. Building on the space between breaths. Stretching the space between stimulus and response, between experience and reaction. Trying to cultivate a kind of internal spaciousness that will honor the expansiveness of the heart and soul. Creating this kind of space requires a subtle kind of stretching and growing.

Creating space around. I’m working on creating this kind of space as well. Space for multiple opinions. Space for listening. Space for others to shine and thrive and share. Creating this kind of space requires a kind of measuredness. It requires a kind of joyful and intentional contraction. Not withdrawal. In fact, something quite different than withdrawal. Something more like mindful awareness. Something that stops the tongue from slipping into autopilot and the mind from monkeying around.

And so the work continues, making space with and making space around.

Tel Aviv, 2016

What is Scripture?

Israel, 2017

I didn’t realize it until a few moments ago, but for the last couple of years (maybe longer), I’ve been thinking about the question: “What is Scripture?” Now that I realize this has been a foundational question for me, I also realize the answer I’ve been living with for just as long. Here’s my answer: Scripture is any text that a person feels summoned to read and read again because that text inevitably speaks into your life and guides you.

When I look at my bookshelves, piles of old CDs and other accumulated texts, I see many that I love and cherish and that have shaped me. I see many that I’d love to read or listen to again, but likely won’t. I see a few that keep finding their way into my life. E.E. Cummings for example, Nietzsche, Thich Nhat Hahn, The Grateful Dead, the Psalms, They Might Be Giants, Kafka, the Torah. So long as my reading and listening to these texts leads to a mutual softening, opening, and revealing, these will  be, for me, Scriptures.

What I’m coming to realize is that Scripture is a dance between text and reader. Sometimes the text is undeniably compelling, sometimes the reader is exceptionally engaged, sometimes when Scripture comes to life, the two meet in a place of wisdom and discernment.

One-Pointedness

After the morning rain I took a short walk. Along the way I noticed the beads of water hanging on the tips and low points of the small branches of the trees that haven’t yet bloomed with the coming of spring. I understood that those beads of water represent the gathering of all the surrounding moisture into a single, concentrated area for a finite period of time. A gentle breeze, a passing car, a scavenging squirrel or bird, and the drops will naturally fall away. The natural gathering of focused attention for a finite period of time, the one-pointedness of raindrops on the trees.

The Clean Desk

Today I walked into my office to find a clean and spotless desk.

When I looked at the spotless desk, a feeling of calm descended upon me.

Who cares that the desk is clean because I moved the books and binders to the bookshelf?

A clean desk wins over a cluttered bookshelf any day of the week.

Desks are meant to be clean. Bookshelves are meant to be crammed with all the stuff of knowledge.

The most important lesson

The most important lesson I want to teach my students is the very same lesson I am trying to teach myself: let go of the past, let go of the future, be in the present.

Be in: notice, acknowledge, appreciate, understand, dwell, exist.

The present: what is happening now, what’s actually happening.

There are many obstacles when it comes to teaching this lesson. They are known. What’s unknown is what it would be like to fully immerse in a single perishable instant of this beautiful and miraculous existence. I hope that I can arrive at this place myself. And I hope that when I get there, I am not alone.

With Thanks to Jack Kornfield

Over the last two years I’ve listened to approximately 50-60 hours of Jack Kornfield’s podcast, Heart Wisdom Hour. Alongside The Grateful Dead, this podcast holds the place for the most oft heard soundtrack in my earbuds. It’s rare for me to find a voice that so compels me and speaks into my life. I’ve written about Jack Kornfield on this blog before, but I haven’t really analyzed why I keep coming back to his dharma talks. Here are a few thoughts.

  1. Jack is a wonderful story teller. It always feels good to be in the capable hands of a master story teller. Jack is one for sure.
  2. Jack reminds me of things that I have experienced, that I value, that I believe, and that I strive towards. It’s good to be reminded.
  3. Jack is a non-anxious presence. The mere thought of listening to one of his talks gives me a sense of spacious calm. This spacious calm can be hard to find at times so the fact that Jack helps bring me to that place is something I value.
  4. Jack illuminates. Some aspects of the human experience are either so obvious or so mysterious that they can be hard to see clearly. Jack is particularly good at investigating these areas and helping summon them to the fore so that they can be honored and appreciated.

These are a few of the reasons that I keep coming back to listen to Jack Kornfield’s, Heart Wisdom Hour. As a rabbi, as an educator, as a human being, Jack informs and inspires me to remember who and what I really am. I strongly recommend checking out pretty much any episode of his podcast. If you do, let me know what you think!

Life Lessons from The American Hebrew Academy

“Ahava” Sculpture, American Hebrew Academy

 

I recently spent a beautiful Shabbat with the students and faculty of The American Hebrew Academy in Greensboro, NC. It was a wonderful experience for me and I am so grateful to have had a chance to meet the people there and offer a few teachings along the way. I learned a lot during my 30 or so hours on campus. Some of that learning is captured here, in no particular order.

  1. If you want to know someone or something, pay attention and they will show you. I came to AHA with few preconceived notions and a good amount of curiosity. What would I discover while there? I discovered the power of paying attention and honoring what I experienced. I experienced a lot of joy and energy, a lot of smiling faces, a deep sense of familiarity, and much more. My attentiveness was rewarded and I feel like I know the AHA community simply by being curious and paying attention.
  2. We can’t help but tell our story. I led a Reform style minyan on Friday night. When we began singing Noam Katz’s song, “Roll into Dark,” many of the students in attendance started doing a choreographed series of hang gestures. Afterward I told them that I felt like they were telling me a story. And, in fact, they were. Somewhere in that spontaneous series of choreographed hang gestures, there was a story. More than likely, it was a sacred story.
  3. Be true to yourself. I didn’t know quite how to prepare for a weekend full of teaching in a community that is both 100% unique and that was foreign to me at the time. In addition to the great advise and support I got from my contacts at AHA, I also trusted my gut and prepared in a way that felt authentic to me. Knowing that I was walking into something of an unknown, I put my energy into the greatest known-unknown of all– myself. Knowing that people respond to authenticity, I was able to move forward from there.
  4. Environment matters. The physical facilities of AHA are extraordinary. Wherever the students are, there’s a kind of natural energy that emerges. But there are vast expanses of land that are often unoccupied. What that means is that the AHA community has a place where they can go to be quiet. If they need some silence and stillness, it exists for them. The wooded setting, the lake, the many walking paths and bridges, these all contribute to the special spirit of AHA.
  5. Listen. We’ve got two ears and one mouth for a reason. All of us need to do a better job of listening these days. It’s tough to model listening when people have come, on some level, to hear you do the talking. But even when you’re doing the talking, the importance of listening simply can’t be overstated. The greatest insights, the most poignant comments, the gems– these seldom come from us. If we’re lucky, we’re there to hear them. If we’re intentional, we can figure out the best way to get people speaking, sharing, and engaging.
  6. The Whole World is a Narrow Bridge. I must’ve heard the song, “Gesher Tzar M’od,” at least 6 times during my visit to AHA. It’s one of those songs that Jews from all around the world know. I won’t forget the wild Shabbat singing, especially of this song.

This post only scratches the surface of what I learned at The American Hebrew Academy. During my time there, and in the days following, I keep coming back to the fact that AHA is truly an unprecedented undertaking for the Jewish community. Jews from different countries and religious backgrounds share a common bond of Torah and Klal Yisrael. But that doesn’t meant that we fully understand one another or can co-exist in constructive and harmonious ways. The students and staff of The American Hebrew Academy live the value of Klal Yisrael every single day. My impression is that doing so brings with it a series of complex and sometimes unsolvable challenges. And it is these very challenges that create a sense of respect, cohesion, and community there.

A wonderful weekend and afternoon of learning

This Shabbat I had the honor of serving as a scholar-in-residence for the American Hebrew Academy and Temple Emanuel in Greensboro, NC. I was with the AHA community for Shabbat and had a few hours to engage with the religious school teachers at TE in Sunday afternoon. Both communities made a strong impression on me and I am grateful for the warm embrace and enthusiastic learning I experienced at both places…

 

Temple Emanuel community and the “text” we created about Tefilah

Let Me Know it Fully

 

 

Let me know it fully.

A colleague said this to me today.

During a webinar that he was facilitating.

Let me know it fully.

Not just any breath. But this breath.

Not just any feeling of my fingers on the keyboard. But this feeling of my fingers on the keyboard.

Not just any leftover chicken brought for lunch. But this leftover chicken brought for lunch.

Not just any voices chatting in the hall. But these voices chatting in the hall.

Let me know it fully.

Not just any memory of Caleb resting his head on my stomach. But this memory.

Not just any sound of my kids singing “Circle of Life” while driving down Peachtree. But this sound.

Not just any cool November Monday morning. But this one.

Not just any little piece of unexpected good news. But this little piece.

Not just any surreal moment of receiving bad news. But this surreal moment.

Not just any feeling of bowing to the rhythm of the universe. But this feeling of bowing.

Let me know it fully.

Not just any deep knowing of what the psalmist meant when he wrote, “my cup overflows.” But this deep knowing.

 

Guns and Grills

Tonight I had a vendor out to the house to do some measuring for some new kitchen appliances. It turns out that ovens don’t last forever. When he called to say that he was a few minutes away he sounded like a really nice guy. I explained that our house is a bit of a disaster due to our just getting our plumbing fixed. I get it, he said.

The door bell rang and I invited him in. I quickly noticed two paragraphs of words tattooed on the outside of both his arms. Figuring it was Scripture, the rabbi in me wanted to know what it was that moved this gentleman. Turns out it was the 2nd Amendment. And on top of that, on the inside of his left arm there was another tattoo, this one of an intimidating looking automatic weapon.

You must be pretty committed to the 2nd Amendment, I said. As he measured the opening where my new microwave will go. Sure am, he said. Nonchalantly. And what kind of gun is that, I asked. An M-16, the kind I carried in the military. Thank you for your service, I said. And a belated Happy Veterans Day, I said (wondering if that’s the right greeting). And knowing that I meant it.

Hey, someone’s cooking something delicious in your neighborhood, he said. I could smell it the minute I got out of my truck. That’s probably me, I said. I’ve got my Kamado Joe fired up out back, but it’s just charcoal so far. That’s all it takes, he said. You do much outdoor cooking, I asked. I’m building out my outdoor cooking space as we speak, he said. Followed by a detailed description.

15 minutes later I walked him to the door. Hope you have some good music for the long ride home, I said. I just got a new truck so I’ll be blasting Sirius XM the whole way, he said. With a smile. See you when it’s time for the install.