True Ancestor

Middle Daughter Gets Bit

Middle Daughter, possessed of a globe-trotting volunteer spirit, has become infected with something else: malaria.

Sometime during a couple of fun, eventful weeks teaching English in a small school in Tanzania; a brief "safari" (really just animal sight-seeing); and a Passover Seder in Dar es Salaam with most of the other Jews in the country), she must have been bitten by an infected mosquito. Despite having religiously taken her anti-malaria medication, she got the illness nonetheless.

People live with it and recover from it all the time. However, she won't be home until mid-May, at which time she faces gum surgery. Will they perform gum surgery on you if you have malaria?!

Having a kid that's sick on the other side of the world is a horribly helpless feeling. What can you do, short of helicopter parenting (of course, helicopters can't fly that far).

In other news, closer to home, Gabe continues to round into fine form as a left-handed pitcher. The neurosis surrounding the development of young baseball players has become so shrill, I e-mailed the coach of the Freshman baseball team at the high school Gabe will likely attend.

I asked him: Does a kid really have to play travel baseball and skip camp if he wants to play in high school? Does he really need lessons in this, that and the other? What does the parent of a 12-year-old who loves baseball need to do -- and not do?

To his credit, the coach said, 'Let him play and have fun. Don't worry about it.'

The coach was also Middle Daughter's gym teacher; he said to send his regards to her.

And I send her whatever healing vibes I can, in these anxious few weeks before she finally comes home.

--T.A.

"Stop napping. This is important."

Charles Martin explains the Heart Sutra, perhaps the seminal text of Mahayana Buddhism.

I'm not saying you'll come away enlightened. But I'm not saying you won't, either.

It's interesting that in Buddhism, knowledge is seasoned by wisdom, whereas in Kabbalistic thought it's basically the reverse: chochmah (wisdom) is the flash of insight -- "the beginning of all form, yet still formless" -- whereas binah (understanding) is insight leavened by the disciplined intellect.

The early Kabbalists saw the intellect as the highest faculty, the one most imbued with Divine energy. Its primary task was the domestication of the imagination, the seat of the yetzer hara, or evil inclination, in the healing service of the Divine. The Kabbalists knew that the intellect is nothing without the imagination, but they felt the imaginative faculty, when left in charge, misapplies knowledge to horrible ends (see "Garden of Eden, Expulsion From").

The Heart Sutra's climactic thought, in Charlie's translation:

There is no wisdom, and no attainment. There is nothing to be attained.

To which I say (even as I prepare to deepen my study):

Amen.

--T.A.

What I'd do -- today -- if I won the lottery

As the youngest of my four sisters and I sat outside the parental cottage overlooking the Gulf of Mexico a couple of sunsets ago, we waxed philosophical, this sister and I, about what we'd do if we won the lottery (Florida sunsets, and a glass or two of wine, will do that to you).

My sister, far the kinder soul, said if she won $10 million, she'd give a million bucks to each sibling (that's $5 million right there, for those of you playing at home).

Turns out my sister and the One True Wife indulge in exactly the same regular reverie: they plan, in almost meticulous detail, what they'd do if they hit it big. The only catch: they almost never buy tickets.

So I daydreamed as we sat on the airport runway in Ft. Myers, waiting for a break in the snarling Spring weather so we could return to Chicago. Here's what I decided:

• I'd give 20 per cent of my winnings to nature-oriented causes: the Association for the Protection of the Adirondacks, the Nature Conservancy, groups like that.
• I'd endow an artist's colony with five per cent.
• I'd pick one Jewish cause, and give it 10 per cent.
• I'd look for a few groups like this, and give them a total of five per cent.
• I'd give 10 per cent to the Little Affordable Housing Non-Profit that Could.
• I'd use another 25 per cent to create a trust fund for siblings, nieces and nephews and their descendants.
• I'd give 5 per cent each to my kids, but I'm not sure I'd tell them. At least not right away.
• I'd invest the other 10 per cent and live like it wasn't there.
• Yeah, right.

What would you do...?

--T.A.

Season of our Liberation --or End of Days?

When, within the space of a few days, in the thawing Midwest,a wild cougar appears and people are rattled in their beds by an earthquake, it can be safely be said that we're living in interesting times. Need more proof?

• When the Cubs and Sox have near-identical records -- and sit at or near the top of their respective divisions;
• When an African American man and a white woman are vying for the presidential nomination of a major party;
• When the announcement of dismal financial results is deemed by the markets to be good news because the results aren't as dismal as they could have been;
• When a baby with two faces is born,
• And a woman survives a gunshot between the eyes;
• When a man, living with a transplanted heart, kills himself in the same way as the heart donor did;
• When the Pope meets abuse victims face to face,
• A praying passenger is removed from a commercial flight,
• And Jimmy Carter meets with leaders of Hamas;
• When a blind woman makes a hole in one
• And a deaf player scores in the NBA,

well, then, my friends, these are interesting times, indeed.

Chag Sameach/Happy Passover and a season of liberation to one and all --

--T.A.

Another Angry Preacher, Another Missed Point

In an e-mail and interview that are popping up like fungi on conservative blogs, Los Angeles philanthropist Daphna Ziman tells the disturbing story of being the target of an anti-Semitic diatribe from Reverend Eric Lee, an African American minister and head of the Los Angeles Branch of the Southern Christian Leadership Conference. Ironically, Rev. Lee delivered this rant from the dais at an April 4 event, looking directly at Ms. Ziman, just after she had received the Tom Bradley Award for her charitable work in the African American community from Kappa Alpha Si, an African American fraternity.

What's interesting to me is that the conservative blogs are using this incident to say, "See? We told you: Obama is a hater!" This, apparently, because Lee is an Obama supporter. But if you read Lee's remarks and listen to Ms. Ziman's interview with Roger Simon (CEO of Pajamas Media), you get a different picture (never mind that the event had nothing to do with Obama, nor was he there).

Lee is purported to have said some terrible things. It sounds as if what's behind those utterances is delight at the prospect of an African American who can win the White House and right all the wrongs done to the AA community. Those wrongs, according to Lee, include negative stereotypes of African Americans, perpetuated and made profitable by Jews in the entertainment industry.

Ms. Ziman does not directly blame Obama for Rev. Lee's diatribe, although she hints at finding Obama guilty by association. But in her interview with Simon, after telling the story of the incident -- and the apologies delivered immediately afterwards by some African Americans in attendance, she says this:

"I find that this is opening the gates to something that isn't healthy for this country. . . It's time for Reverend Lee to apologize to the entire Jewish community . . . This is racism at its highest. And I believe that Barack Obama can change that."

She goes on to say that Obama has to take responsibility for attending for two decades a church that espoused views similar to Rev. Lee's -- but in saying she believes Obama can change the tide of anger that is rising in some parts of the AA community, seems to me she's actually agreeing with Reverend Lee. According to Ziman, Lee began his speech "by thanking Jesus for Obama, who's going to be the leader of the world." 

Conservative bloggers seem to see this incident as proof of some kind of underground AA conspiracy to legitimize hatred and launch Obama like a missile at the heart of white America.

They're missing the point.

Obama's candidacy is a lightning rod, and the electricity is creating all kinds of sparks. To use another metaphor, the promise of an African American president is proving to be a valve for the pressurized anger of the African American community, and for the hopes of people of all backgrounds who think Obama represents some kind of national coming of age. Obama is viewed by some AA pastors as a righteous avenger and by others as a healer. Some condemn him for cozying up to haters; others see him as the only (or the most immediate) cure for what ails us.

It would be hard to live up to either image, let alone both. And that's assuming he wins both the Democratic nomination and the general election.

--T.A.

A cougar in our midst

This morning, we awoke to the alarming news that a cougar had been sited yesterday in a nearby suburb. Later in the day, it was cornered by police in an alley on Chicago's North Side, and when it started to attack, it was shot.

Cougars haven't been seen roaming Chicago in 150 years. I've seen possum skunk, coyote, fox and rabbit in our neighborhood (I initially typed "rabbi." Of course, most of them are domesticated). If I saw a cat this big -- five feet long, weighing about 150 pounds -- I'd want bars separating us. (Note: this isn't a photo of the cougar found here, just the closest thing I could find.)

No one is sure where the big cat came from. Cougars moved west in the 1800s, when development destroyed their habitat; perhaps they're moving back to the Rust Belt now that the West is overrun? Or was this someone's pet, kept illegally and let go when it became too big and too dangerous?

I remember (and my sister or my dad will remember more clearly) that an animal got loose from a traveling circus when we were growing up. Wasn't it an elephant? Or did my imagination enlarge it -- was it "just" a horse? Didn't it come lumbering down 50th street? Wasn't there a kind of Keystone Cops escapade where they tried to corral the poor thing?

Growing up in a city gives you this hothouse perspective on wildlife. You go to the zoo and see the caged animals, and you feel a mixture of awe and pity -- perhaps even a little condescension. You don't realize that you're actually the one in the hothouse. Come upon a truly wild animal, in its element -- which is to say, outdoors -- and you realize how frail and helpless the human animal is, with nothing but its wits and its inventions to protect it, it's bulbous cranium cranking out theories, inventions, intrigues. And weapons.

I remember standing by the glass of the Ape House at Lincoln Park Zoo one summer day about 25 years ago. The Alpha male silverback was in fine form that day, glowering at people and rushing against the thick glass, with a roar. He resented his lack of privacy and his confinement and he clearly hated us. But it's possible he also saw it as a game and was willing to play along. Anyone who stood in a particular spot would get their turn trying to stare this animal down. He'd fix you with his tiny eyes; this look of loathing would come over his face; he'd rush at the glass, teeth bared, roaring. The glass would thunder, and he'd saunter away. The next person would stand in the same spot, and it would happen again.

The unspoken rule amongst those of us who wound up playing this game was that you tried not to flinch when he rushed you. Impossible. He weighed about 500 pounds, and he was quick as lightning.

 

The worst part, though, was the look. The look that told you that you were prey. That you were about to be killed. That he was going to kill you. The look that has made us build cities and enclose ourselves in glass and steel and never look back.

--T.A.

Oh, now I get it: I don't get it.

I just don't get it.

Which means I get it.

Which means I don't get it.

What I don't get is how much bile and invective there is in the blogosphere.

But it's not like I never excoriate anyone, never lose my temper. I do that all the time (just did it again this week). I like to think about and study religion, but I really, really don't get it. I get it less than ever. Not only do I not seem to be able to learn Hebrew, but I don't seem to be able to absorb the lessons of Judaism or retain what I learned from Buddhism. I'm the same cranky, thin-skinned misanthrope I was before I studied any of this stuff.

I don't get how we've wound up with three such seriously flawed presidential candidates. One has little in the way of experience but posesses tremendous vision; one has tremendous experience but little or no vision; one is just someone who puts you in a bad mood, and you can't put your finger on why.

Each one of them represents some aspect of our national persona: the war hero, the cool, ambitious climber, the valiant outsider. These individuals have subjected themselves and their families to the most unending scrutiny, the most horrendous slander, the straight-up danger of running for the presidency, and you just know there's got to be something wrong with each of them.

But our consummate wrongness, our flawed decision-making is already reinstalled in the White House. Do we just have a system that rewards and enshrines thick-skinned mistake-makers?

But this isn't about them. As usual, it's about me.

As Passover nears, I see, more clearly than ever that the story of liberation doesn't make sense on a peoplehood level unless you can make sense of it on a personal level. Through the preparation for and observance of Passover, we're supposedly affirming belief through memory. Of course, you can't remember something you never experienced. Can you...? What, then, are you remembering? And what are you believing in? Are you remembering beyond the horizon of your own lifetime? Or are you engaging in existential self-examination and dogmatic myth-making?

The real question Passover poses is: What do you need to get liberated from?

Me: I guess it's my thin skin. My concern for whether people like me or not. My lack of certainty. Which gives me a temper. Which begins the cycle all over again. So where do I interrupt the circuit?

I think I begin with the trait of Equanimity. As a good friend reminded me today, it says in Cheshbon ha Nefesh (Accounting of the Soul) by Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Satanov: "Rise above events that are inconsequential - both bad and good - for they are not worth disturbing your equanimity."

Easy for him to say. That's just an old-fashioned way of saying "Don't worry, be happy."

Or maybe it's Humility. If you're worried and uncertain and easily offended, you're probably overestimating your own importance. You can learn this from your sacred texts, but I just started catching on when I saw an episode of South Park last week, in which Kyle spends the better part of an episode trying to show Token that he, Kyle, understands what it feels like to be African American and suffer discrimination. Token gets angrier the more sensitive Kyle tries to be.

At the end of the episode, Kyle has his epiphany, and tells Token: "I get it, Token! I finally get it: I don't get it."

Token smiles and says: "Now ya got it."

Shabbat Shalom.

--T.A.

It's official: I'm a student again

Having received approval from the One True Wife, consulted the oracles, and sat with it for awhile, I formally gave word to the University of Chicago Divinity School that I intend to enter their MA program this coming Fall.

This is a two-year program that will require me to ramp up my knowledge of Hebrew and one other language -- probably French -- and study and read more than I have in the two-plus decades since I was last in school full time. It will also help me figure out if I want to go any further into the study of Jewish text and history.

I can't wait.

When I went to a meeting for prospective students last week, I wound up sitting at lunch with two Baptists from Oklahoma who also are entering the MA program. These were big, corn-fed guys with calloused hands, wearing ties and leather jackets. The Divinity school served a vegan lunch. One of the Oklahomans stared at the food and said: "This ain't lunch. This is what we eat before lunch." They were extremely young and extremely polite. One of them was very excited to meet a Jew.

"Have you been Jewish from birth?," he asked.

I allowed as how I had.

"May I ask you a question?," he said.

Anything, I said.

"Does a Jewish person achieve salvation through works or through Grace?"

I said, "Well, to most Jewish people that question wouldn't even compute, I suspect. I also think I'll answer that question better in a couple of years than I can answer it now. But basically, we don't really believe in salvation, and our idea of Grace is a little different from yours, I suspect. We also have this little thing called Ancestry: if you're born Jewish, you're a Jew no matter what you do. If you convert -- well, that's a little complicated, because the Orthodox don't recognize non-Orthodox conversions. You won't be able to get 10 Jews together who agree on this stuff -- and I don't even think I agree with myself sometimes, so maybe we should leave it at that."

He nodded, but looked puzzled.

It should be a really interesting couple of years.

--T.A.

Why God sent the Jews to Buddhism

Cross-posted on Jews By Choice

On Saturday night, I went to B’nai Joshua/Beth Elohim (BJBE) in nearby Glenview to attend a concert/performance of Soul on Fire. It’s a musical and narrative piece written and fronted by Danny Maseng, an inspired teacher and musician, and a cast of several others, including BJBE’s cantor, Jennifer Frost.

Danny was for years a committed practitioner of Zen, as was I. And, like me, he felt he was opened anew to Judaism by the practice of Zen. Part of Soul on Fire maps that journey.

Danny told a remarkable part of this story during the concert:

“After one of my concerts,” he said, “this wild-eyed Chasid came up to me. He had the tzitzit and the payis and all the accoutrements of a pious Jew. And he said to me: ‘Do you know why you went to Zen?’

“I just stared at him. I didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what he was going to say. And he said again, ‘Do you know why you went to Zen, why so many Jews went over to the practice of Zen?’ And I said, ‘No, I would love to know why.’

“And he said the most extraordinary thing: ‘Because,’ he said, 'after the Holocaust, the hearts of the people and their teachers were filled with so much bitterness, weighed down by such feelings of betrayal, that Hashem, in His infinite mercy, sent teachers to Zen so that they could learn once again to love God, and be inspired again to teach Judaism with the love and the sweetness and the compassion that it merits.’”

--T.A.

"When God was still alive, was the Pope Arabic?"

What someone said to me in a dream, right before I woke up this morning.

Time to meditate.

Or medicate.

--T.A.