In God's Hands, Of Course

About a month ago I was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, but I didn't start seriously questioning God until a week or so later, when the full reality kicked in. At that point, I removed my kippah and tzitziot (ritual hat and fringes, both traditionally worn only by guys) and stopped blessing my food before I ate it. I still said the prayer after using the bathroom--old habits die hard--and I continued observing Shabbat and keeping kosher, because I didn't want to shut off my way back. But the joy was gone.

Two weeks or so after that, I absorbed another blow when I learned that the medication that could quite literally save my life renders my bone marrow useless for saving other lives. MAny of my deepest held religious beliefs were shaken to the core. If I had dreamed of drinking alcohol (which I also cannot do on this medication), partying all night (bipolar people should not stay up late), or globe trotting, I could argue that God didn't want me to have those things because they were not in my longterm best interests. But all I wanted was to be God's hands in the world and save lives! Why would God make it impossible for me to do that?

I have walked around and around this issue, examining it from all viewpoints. I still do not have an answer, unless it is to teach me that life is not in my control. But the God I claim to serve (neither know nor love, for we cannot know God and we cannot love what we do not know) does not teach that vindictively. Neither do I think I sinned enough to deserve bipolar disorder as a punishment.

I am back to worshipping God now, simply because I missed religion too much. Yes, my religious behavior is entirely selfish, and I am not ashamed to admit that, because truly I think everyone's is. I have no answers, but I will close with a Hebrew phrase, "Gam zu l'tovah." This roughly translates to, "This, too, is for the best."

Or more colloquially, to quote Steven Curtis Chapman, "God is God, and I am not."

This Stands Out

I know that I have a fairly unusual relatoinship with my God. It is not a relationship without a long-standing Jewish tradition behind it; Judaism is all about bringing God into our everyday lives through the practice of mitzvot, and that is what I do. Still, I know that for most people, seeing God and talking to God and feeling God touching their faces remains a pipe dream.

Many friends of mine--not all, but many--know about my relationship with my God. People have questions; I don't mind answering them. Most people are respectful of my beliefs, even if they disagree with me, and I have had many interesting, soul-searching conversations.

Last night, however, I had a conversation that may forever stand out in my mind.

I was sitting on a bench in the school's Gardens of Israel with a sophomore friend whom I will call "Leeann". I have been trying to catch up with all my friends before I leave, and "Leeann" and I hadn't really talked since we got back to school. We were talking about my Jewish commitment (she doesn't believe in God and is fairly skeptical of my experiences), and she asked if I would ever consider moving to Israel. That is a complicated question for me; I told her the truth, that I hadn't really before this summer, but then God came and told me that I should go this Fall, should spend a year there after college, and that maybe that wouldn't be the end of it.

I went on to explain that I go where God tells me to, that God led me to my current school and hadn't yet told me where to go next, but that was OK because I didn't need to know yet. I continued, telling her that God tends to put me somewhere and step back, and no matter how much I cry out to God, my God stays...not hidden, just inactive. I told "Leeann" that to the best of my knowledge, my God stays inactive because She knows I do a darn good job on my own, that ultimately I must figure out my own life and take care of myself, and besides, She likes to be impressed by me.

Finally, "Leeann" looked at me in shock and said, "So you're just following God. What about you?"

I didn't really answer the question. I gave a couple of qualifications: anything I think God tells me is my human interpretation, so I don't think I'll ever "hear" God telling me to do something I don't want to do; if I really didn't want to do what God told me to do, then I wouldn't; etc. But in truth, there is more to it than that. My soul is part of God; I only feel complete when I leave this world to join with that greater God. Therefore, where God tells me to go is by definition what I want for myself.

Yes, "Leeann", yes. I am "just" following God, and in the process I am finding myself.

Funny

[Informational Sidenote: The shofar is a hollowed-out ram's horn, blown every morning in services from the beginning of the Hebrew month of Elul through Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, at the beginning of the Hebrew month of Tishrei. It works a bit like a cross between a brass instrument and a woodwind, but not really.Some people can blow it; I am not one of them.]



I had just finished leading our school community in morning Shacharit. Feeling pretty confident, I picked up the shofar and turned to face the congregation. "Is there anybody who wants to blow the shofar?" (Silence.) "Can anybody in here blow the shofar?" (More silence.) "All right," I said, "Wish me luck."



I pursed my lips, picked up the shofar, and blew. The shofar made a noise similar to that of a wheezing frog. I tried again, and made the same sound. I gave it two more tries as everyone stood solemnly, trying not to laugh.



Finally, the teacher supervising said, "I heard it."



I responded, "So did I. I move we go to class before I explode." And then everybody laughed.



I can do lots of different things in the synagogue. I can lead morning services for weekdays, Shabbat, and Holidays. I can lead Kabbalat Shabbat and Friday night evening services. I can lead the Torah service for weekdays and Shabbat. I know how to read Torah, and I can gabbai. But I cannot blow the shofar.

A Very Loaded Question

I have gotten very into reading philosophy to teach my mind what my soul already knows so that I can know that I know it, and I am currently reading a book by Neil Gillman entitled "The Way Into Encountering God in Judaism." The book is so profound that my reading is by necessity very sporadic: sometimes I'll read ten pages of stuff I can easily digest, and other times I'll hit something that I need to chew over for days. The Very Loaded Question is in the second category.

And here it is:

The following three statements are individually accepted almost all the time by almost all Jews.

1. God is righteous.
2. God is omnipotent.
3. The victim sof the Holocaust (or you can replace this with Cancer patients, which changes the entire tone of the question) were blameless.

The three statements simply cannot all exist together. Which one do you drop?

Comments Welcome!

Odds and Ends

Recently (and I heard this from my mother, so I don't have sources, but I can contact her and ask if anyone wants me too) the Jewish genotype was tested by scientists. The test results showed that all Jews, regardless of appearance--even Ashkenazi Jews, who are much more recently from Europe--are genetically far closer to being Middle Easterners than anything else. This backs up a distinction on which I have been insisting for months now: Jews aren't white!!! (Just to clarify, no I do not think there is anything wrong with being white, but Jews aren't.)

This blue-eyed blonde is genetically Middle Eastern:



And so are the hazel-eyed redhead and brown-eyed brunette shown here:


And so are the three brown-eyed brunettes and blue-eyed blonde shown here:

Isn't that fascinating? Watch me, henceforth, mark Middle Eastern on anything that asks ethnicity. (Not nationality, that for me is American, just ethnicity/race.)

On a more serious note...

God has recently shown me that I am absolutely meant to go on my upcoming class trip to Israel (as if I wouldn't!) and also that I am meant to study at Pardes, a post-college; pluralistic; text-based Yeshiva that sounds just awesome, for a year when the time comes. Not only that, if I am interpreting God's message correctly, that may not be the end of my time in Israel; perhaps I am meant to make aliyah and live there. This was not in my plans prior to this summer, but since I go where God sends me--Ready or not, Israel, here I come!

I close with a quote from my new favorite Israeli band, HaDag Nahash: "שלום, שלאם, פיס, אפשרי גם כאן!" ("Shalom, Salaam, Peace, it's also possible here [Israel]!)

My Brother's Bar Mitzvah

Yesterday was my younger brother's bar mitzvah. As a former pulpit rabbi's daughter, I have seen many Bnai Mitzvah in my life; as a Jewishly knowledgeable student at a high school with students of varying backgrounds, I have even participated in a few. My brother's was one of the nicest I have ever seen, and not just because he's my brother. Jewish life cycle events are always meaningful, but they are even more meaningful when the people involved are Jewishly committed before, after, and forever. Jewish living is like beautiful music: each single note is gorgeous, but together they make a symphony.

Here is a picture of my two brothers and me on the Friday afternoon before the Bar Mitzvah.

Anecdotes of Summer

Over the summer, I spent six weeks in Kansas with a group of Jewish teens from around the country. Through the American Jewish Society for Service, we had the opportunity to volunteer with Habitat for Humanity. In many ways it was an amazing experience; in many ways it was a very challenging experience. It is both something I'm glad I did and something I never want to do again (not the volunteeer work, just this kind of trip).

Three times on this trip I had major visions--three times in six weeks! I have not blogged about it before because I didn't quite know what to say or how to say it. How can I begin to describe the wonders I have seen and the depth of my connection to God?

There are a few stories that I would like to share here.

Our group was housed at a Conservative synagogue, Congregation Ohev Shalom, in Prairie Village. On most weekends, however, we traveled. One weekend--the fourth, I think--we were hosted by families within walking distance of the area's Orthodox synagogue (Beth Israel Abraham and Voliner) and traditional synagogue (Kehilath Israel).

It was Friday evening, and we were walking to BIAV for services. I was walking near the front of the group next to one of our directors, and we were talking about purple being her favorite color and her need to have purple in her life. Suddenly, I looked up at her and found myself saying, "I think if you could see God, for you He would be purple."

That night, I experienced two new colors in my visions: purple and gold. Previously, I had visioned in red, blue, white, black, yellow, orange, and green, but never purple or gold. Knowing this woman added colors to my visions.

On that trip, I had many more amazing experiences. I got to play with and bathe in the energy of the universe. I began to know God as Mother and as Fear. I once reached out my hand to God and found it resting on my chest. I learned how to live in both the physical and spiritual worlds at the same time.

...And then I neglected to pray for about two weeks, and I haven't been very close since. I'll get it back though; I know I will.

It's interesting to me to see where I have limited myself to stay within acceptable Jewish constraints. One Shabbat on my trip, I was talking with some of the other girls about my visions and the "supernatural" things I've seen and done. One of them asked me, "Do you believe in Wicca?"

Of course I said, "No."

She asked why not, pointing out that a lot of what I've experienced sounds like Wicca, and I answered, "Because Judaism doesn't allow me to."

Judaism absolutely forbids sorcery, declaring sorcerers Hayyev Mitah: liable for the death penalty from God. I have seen and fought demons; I believe it is possible to side with them. I believe we all have powers inside that some of us could use for evil. I believe it is possible to curse someone and change his or her life. But all of this is forbidden in Judaism, so I will not go down that path.

It's not that I don't think sorcery is real; I most certainly do. Just as I believe that Christianity, for instance, is a legitimate path to God, just not my path; so too sorcery is real, but absolutely not for me.

I am a Jew, first and foremost. Judaism is my path to God.