rabbijaffe

This past week has been rather interesting. Last week Baltimore was covered with 20 inches of snow. I used to live in Ithaca, New York, where 20 inches is just you’re average winter day, and they’ve gotten so efficient at dealing with overwhelming snowfall that they’re practically catching each snowflake before it hits the ground.

Not so in Baltimore.

When the snow hits hard they run around like chickens with their heads cut off. They wait for the last snowflake before they even consider doing anything about it, take no preventative measures, and do an excessively mediocre job with their clean up.

That being said, they did a surprisingly decent job this time around…

in some places…

My block was NOT one of them.

If you were to drive down Shelburne Road any day this week you would wonder why in the world we even bother paying our exorbitant taxes.  

Oh no, it’s not because of our stellar trash pick up, which has recently been reduced. I don’t think it costs too much to pick up a limited amount of trash once a week, sometimes in the late evening, and toss our trash cans all over the street.

It’s unlikely because of our incredible feeling of safety which comes from our police force, so barely existent in my neighborhood we’re forced to shell out private funds to create several private defense organizations, and where a bicycle in front of your home is considered pre-stolen.

Maybe we pay extremely high taxes to support our exalted mayor’s criminal activities. Mayor Sheila Dixon certainly deserves our hard earned money so she could continue her noble pursuit of stealing from the poor and giving to herself.

And then there’s the snow clean up of Shelburne Road. After all the smoke clears in all of Baltimore one could watch as a plow finally comes down our street, way too late to be effective, and instead of actually plowing the snow, kind of smushes it a little.

So we got the honor of feeling for a week what it must be like to drive a vehicle through a third world country.

Until finally something happened to change the luck of the residents of Shelburne Road. This Saturday God decided to give us relatively warm weather and a whole lot of rain. By the time the day was over you could barely tell it had even snowed.

And there you have it.

God was able to do in one day what Baltimore City couldn’t do in an entire week.

And we confirmed what we knew all along: God is more powerful than Baltimore City.

Maybe we should pay our taxes to Him.

I do not hide my feelings.I’m not the biggest fan of the current administration.

I don’t trust this government, and I am rather disappointed with all I’ve seen so far.

But now’s the first time I feel like it punched me in the stomach.

I’m a big fan of the website politifact.org. I check it daily and I’m extraordinarily impressed with how they just seem to present the facts without showing a leaning toward any particular political opinion.

Clearly by the strict numbers the Obama administration is doing rather well, at least as far as their ability to keep to their word. Almost all of Obama’s ranked promises are either ranked ‘kept’ or ‘in the works.’

That being said, the president who promised a new generation of honesty and openness has certainly broken his fair share of promises.

Nine broken promises!!

But it’s not the number that bothers me. It’s one of the recently ranked broken promises that really makes me sick.

Broken Promise #9:

“Will double funding for the main federal support for afterschool programs, the 21st Century Learning Centers program, to serve one million more children.”

How could you? How could let the world know that our children are not your first priority?

I’m a teacher. I’m watching from the inside the craziness of our kids as they’re getting older.

I’m not impressed. In fact, I’m terrified. Something’s wrong and has been so for quite a long time now.

If our kids continue on their current path to nowhere, then I can say with pure sincerity: All your other efforts, Mr. President, are useless.

For whom do we need a clean environment? What will become of the beautiful children of the soldiers who return home from Iraq? Who will be the ultimate beneficiaries of any health care reform?

Our illiterate, immoral, violent youth who fall by the wayside as we make pretty speeches in Copenhagen.

Our children should come first, not as an afterthought.

If you’re living in northeast USA right now your arms are probably as sore as mine are. Hours of shovelling more snow than you’ve ever seen before will do that.You’re also probably sipping hot chocolate and eating hot soup by the gallon.

And while you’re avoiding the roads and staying indoors indefinitely you’ve been contemplating a thing or two. I know I have.

Snow is a really fascinating thing.

You can’t really get rid of it. Your only choice is to simply move it from one place to another place. 

Which leads to a constant personal debate as you attack the snow in front of your home. Where do you want none, and where you not mind having twice as much as there was a moment ago.

And that’s just your home!

The whole matter becomes terribly complicated when you remember that your clean walkway can easily become another person’s impossible to clean walkway.

I saw it all in the past hour.

People who cleaned out their car while simultaneously burying someone else’s just a little deeper. People who received much joy and pleasure walking on the snow covered grass, while knocking a whole bunch on to someone else’s freshly cleaned path.

Why? Because they are the center of the universe. Their personal convenience and enjoyment comes first. Other people’s things are other people’s problems.

Luckily enough for me, I only saw a little of that.

You know what I saw a lot of?

People helping elderly folk shovel the front of their homes.

People who noticed others who were away for the weekend and would be returning to driveways they couldn’t even park in. So they cleaned it up for them.

People helping others push cars over slippery snow piles.

What a fine opportunity the snow presents to help us all figure out which type of person we’re going to be!

Now let’s just hope for a snow day… or two!

Maybe somewhere out there in the computer world someone has an answer to a question that’s been burning inside of me lately.

Why in the world is the holiday of Chanukah so popular?

I know why I love the holiday. What I don’t understand is why it seems to be the most popular Jewish holiday among reform, conservative, and assimilated Jews across the good ole USA.

There are two reasons for my confusion.

Hear me out:

1. Many people believe in the written Torah of the Jewish people. The Jewish Bible. The Old Testament. The Tanach. Whatever you want to call it, almost every Jew has a connection to the Jewish scriptures.

The problem: Chanukah isn’t mentioned anywhere in the Jewish scriptures.

The Chanukah story is featured prominently in the Apocrypha. But I’m going to go out on a limb here and assume there does not exist even one Jew who can honestly say this sentence, “I observe Chanukah because of what I studied from the Apocrypha.”

Most, however, could honestly say,

“Apocry-what!?”

There is one other location where we do learn all about the holiday of Chanukah.

The Oral Law. The Talmud. The oral tradition of the Jewish people which we were forced to write down after generation after generation of persecution brought fears that our traditions would be lost forever.

The problem: Reform, conservative, and I guess you can even say secular Jews hold at the core of their belief systems a firm rejection of the oral tradition. It’s one of the main things that separate them from the orthodox.

So why in the world would they be celebrating a holiday which is spoken of in a text they reject as valid!?

2. So it must be philosophical, right?

They agree with the message of Chanukah.

This then begs the obvious question: What is the message of Chanukah?

It is undeniable that one of the primary themes of Chanukah is the victory by any means necessary of tradition over assimilation. Standing up for what we believe in despite any tyranny that might interfere with our beliefs and practices.

The Greeks wanted to take away from us the Jewish religion. They wanted us to be Greeks.

Even many of the Jews wanted to toss away their Judaism and become Greeks. They were called Hellenists.

We stood up with all the strength we could muster against the oppressive forces of the Greeks and the Hellenists, against all the powers that were trying to take Judaism away from us.

And we won!!

That victory over both forced and voluntary assimilation became the holiday of Chanukah.

My question: If Chanukah is all about defeating the forces which cause Jews to assimilate, why are the Jews who most vehemently champion modern day assimilation celebrating this holiday at all, let alone with such frequency and alacrity!?

* * *  

I have two possible answers to my question, neither of which fully satisfy me.

If someone could propose a logical alternative, I would be grateful.

Answer #1: Ignorance. That’s ignorance of the history and meaning of Chanukah. They basically just do it because other people do it.

Answer #2: Presents and pretty candles. They do it because, gulp, it’s to them the Jewish Christmas. And just like Christmas has become so severely bastardized by Christians that the holiday has little or no religious significance anymore, so too Jews have taken Chanukah and (with all the irony in the world) secularized the fight against secularization.

I would like to give the benefit of the doubt and say both my answers are wrong.

I would like to, but…   

I have a confession.

I like pro-wrestling.

It’s not easy to say, but a fact nonetheless.

I believe all people (perhaps only all men) have at least one secret joy from their youth that they’re embarrassed to admit they still enjoy just as much now. For some it’s comic books. Maybe for others it’s baseball cards. And maybe for some it’s even Dungeons and Dragons.

For me it’s pro-wrestling.

I’ll even take things a step further.

I think there are two types of guys in this world:

1. Those who like pro-wrestling.

2. Those who refuse to admit that they like pro-wrestling.

Somewhere deep in the psyche of males is the absolute enjoyment of watching grown men senselessly pound on each other in as entertaining a way possible.

It’s been that way for all of world history, and will likely never change.

And sure, I know it’s phony. It doesn’t bother me in the slightest. Just because a sitcom or movie is fake does it mean I cannot enjoy it?

And no, it’s not at all intellectually stimulating. In a sense, that’s a huge part of its beauty! When I go to exercise in my basement after a hard day of work, I need something fast paced that doesn’t in any way take concentration. I’ve found the perfect package.

So yeah, I enjoy pro-wrestling. Make fun if you wish. But if you’re male, you’re just lying to yourself.

* * *

Anyhow, I say all this now because I feel a need to express my gratitude to a great entertainer who just passed away, adding to the insanely long list of 2009 celebrity deaths.

Umaga never failed to entertain me, and frankly was even a little scary. He more often than not outperformed all others in the ring with him, and for the countless matches in which he entertained myself and many others like me, I say:

Thank you.

No one deserves to leave this world at the ridiculously young age of 36.

It is truly a tragedy and you will be missed by many.

May you rest in peace. 

Every day of my life I am compelled to give tzedaka (charity) to countless people or organizations. I don’t know how it is in other communities in America, but here in Pikesville, Maryland every day someone comes to your door with a heart wrenching story, and whenever you open your mailbox every other envelope is a request for a donation to another incredible organization. And that would be all… if you didn’t have a phone!

I like to be charitable. My wife and I really do try and give whenever possible, and we train our children to be giving as well. But how do you choose to whom to give or not give? They all sound so wonderful.

Which is why I’m so happy that I finally stumbled upon a charity I’m perfectly OK with skipping. Finally a charity opportunity I pass up guilt free!

(This is an ad reprinted in its entirety from the Baltimore Jewish Times… and no, it’s not a joke.)

Give a gift-Save a Donkey

During this holiday season, give the gift of comfort, safety and the hope of life for an animal. Safe Haven for Donkeys in the Holy Land, Israel’s only sanctuary for donkeys, offers a donkey adoption program for animals who have been rescued. Interested parties may view a picture gallery of donkeys, along with a brief description of their life at safehaven4donkeys.com. Adoptions cost $48 on a yearly basis or $4 a month. For each adoption, members receive an adoption certificate, a photograph and a biography of his/her donkey, along with SHADH’s quarterly newsletter. Safe Haven was created in 2000 out of a recognition of the need to protect and preserve donkeys in Irsael and the Palestinian Territories. Led by a staff of volunteers, the sanctuary provides a home to over 110 rescued donkeys in the region. The organization also runs a mobile animal medical clinic to look after donkeys who live on nearby farms. Donations to Safe Haven for Donkeys in the Holy Land are tax deductible through an alliance with CAFAmerica. For more information, call 516-234-0840 or e-mail dina.white@gmail.com.

* * *

As I slowly wipe a tear away from my eye, I’m reminded of a story from my youth.

I was up way too late watching Comedy Central. There was an hysterical mock infomercial for a fruit drier yogurt/jerky maker. I laughed. After all, what could be funnier than mocking an infomercial?

That is, of course, until I realized that it wasn’t fake. It was past their normal show hours and it was a real infomercial.

Yeah, it’s a little embarrassing. I can live with that.

As I read this ad thinking this is the funniest thing this paper has ever published, I came to the epiphany that there’s someone out there taking this organization very seriously.

I don’t think he’d like my blog very much.

Happy charity giving! 

From the earliest moments of Jewish history, God has chosen a select few times to miraculously reveal Himself.

First he helped the millions of Jews escape from slavery in Egypt, replete with incredible miracles, such as the ten plagues and the splitting of the sea.

He followed us in the desert, repeatedly suspending the natural laws so that we could have enough to eat and drink, and so we could defend ourselves against our numerous far better equipped enemies.

But it seems like He’s been missing for a while.

If he’s a part of our daily lives, it’s been in subtle ways. Our lives might be loaded with daily miracles, but they are not obvious. We have to have enough insight to notice them.

That is, of course, until last Thursday…

That’s right. God’s back. In full effect. Why He chose me, do not know.

Here’s my story:

It’s 8:45 on Thursday night.

My wife decided to bake a cake for our Friday night dinner. It was supposed to take a half hour to bake, but she wasn’t feeling very well and wanted to go to sleep very early.

She came downstairs and asked me if I could take the cake out of the oven at 9:15.

I agreed…

But I’m a guy.

We make mistakes.

In fact, that’s the expectation.

So here I am, sitting at my computer. And I look at the time.

Ten o’clock.

“Ten o’clock!!!” I shout as I run up the stairs.

As I (in slow motion, of course) am running I have a mental picture of black smoke billowing out of my oven. I picture my wife standing over me with a hatchet repeatedly screaming, “9:15! What didn’t you understand? Do I have to do everything myself!?!”

And as I approached the oven with my life flashing before my eyes, I noticed that things didn’t seem all that bad. I cautiously removed the cake. It seemed maybe a little crispy, but not so blatant as to be completely obvious.

So I decided to do what any good husband would do.

I covered it and kept my mouth shut.

I figured I would just wait and see what would happen.

So, when did I speak up?

On Friday night when my wife uttered these words:

“I think this is the best cake I ever made!”

Me: “It’s funny that you should say that…” 

Why did I merit such an incredible miracle, such a suspension of the everyday laws of nature?

I guess I will never know.

The power of a teacher is uncanny.

Sometimes we have the ability to help build someone’s character, and we get to watch as an immature child slowly develops into a responsible adult.

It’s very challenging, but loaded with amazing rewards along the way.

But sometimes something goes wrong.

Rarely does a teacher bring a student down so low they can barely breath. And I would hope with all my might that this would never happen intentionally.

But sometimes…

Well, listen to my story from last week:

In my class we were discussing an obscure portion of Jewish law: First born animals.

All first born male kosher animals need to be given to the kohain (priest), as a kind of tax so he could support himself while carrying out his spiritual duties for the nation.

Antiquated? Yes. Interesting for discussion? Sometimes.

Am I in any way a scholar on the subject? Not quite.

Which is probably why I got slightly backed in the corner when discussing the next subject:

First born male donkeys.

The Torah states explicitly that in place of giving a donkey, we give a sheep…

And if the owner is so selfish as to not give of his possessions…

We break the donkey’s neck!

(pause) 

One student objected.

But not in the way one might expect.

Her objection wasn’t that a donkey dies. Rather, she felt it should be the selfish owner, not the innocent donkey, who dies.

I’ve always felt my students have more compassion for animals than humans. I knew right off the bat that this was going to be a rough discussion, but rolled up my sleeves and got right into it nonetheless.

My basic premise that I tried to get across was that although Judaism demands that animals are treated with a certain level of kindness and compassion, your animal is more of a possession than anything else.

The American “I love my dog more than any human I know” culture severely confuses my students, and blinds them to certain realities.

Anyhow, the discussion didn’t seem to stop, and nothing I said seemed to penetrate…

And then it happened.

I made an analogy of a person who had a farm. My goal was to present a cow in a farm whose purpose was to eventually become a steak, as different than Rover, whose purpose was to bring your slippers and lick your face.

How I was I supposed to know this young girl grew up on a farm? It’s a Jewish private school! I’m surprised any of these kids even knew farms really existed.

Anyhow…

She presented the cows at her farm as being kind of like members of the family.

She even had a very specific one who would poke its head in their window in the morning and they would give it some food.

The continuation kind of eeked on like this:

Me: Oh… So was this a dairy farm?

Her: (bewildered look) No.

Me: Ah… So the animals were for food? (That ‘gotcha’ look on my face.)

Her: Of course not.

Me: (stupidly) Wait, I don’t understand. You just had animals? There was nothing done with them?

Her: Yeah. They were like our family.

Me: (still stupidly) Did you ever notice some animals strangely “disappearing”?

Her: Well, yes. Sort of. My daddy told me that sometimes they were sent away. Like to another farm.

Finally, growing a brain, I decided to say “Oh.” And just change the subject.

About five minutes later I hear a loud “Oh my God!” from the corner of the room, and I look up to see my student with a bright red face, looking like she’s struggling to hold back tears, and having some trouble breathing. 

My wonderful student finally reflected back to the many conversations she had with her father growing up, and came to realizations she never had before.

I supposed that’s healthy in some sense.

But why did it have to happen during MY class?

The post I wanted to write would have been me talking very excitedly about how I feel like the last person in America to not own a cellphone…

I love the notion that I’m never talking to someone face-to-face, when all of a sudden I interrupt because my pocket rang.

I love the notion that I’m never that annoying person who almost drives into someone because they’re too busy blah-blahing to realize there are other humans around.

I love never being that bozo whose phone rings during the meeting with the boss, or at the movies, or at the funeral.

That’s not me!

I love the freedom that accompanies inaccessibility.

I actually do have occasional moments in my life where I really am alone. And it’s all because I don’t own a cellphone.

But unfortunately, that’s not today’s post…

Today at everything short of gunpoint my wonderful spouse has forced me to embrace modernity, and the evil little time and attention sucker will accompany me once again.

I’m nauseous just thinking about it.

Oh, people will shout at me and say, “How can you not have a cellphone!? It’s so dangerous!”

This argument makes me giggle with scorn.

Check out the statistics. 25% of car accidents are caused by cellphone usage!

Dangerous indeed!

I suppose after I skid off the road and flip over three times because I was texting while driving, I will be able to lift up my bloody hand to use my cellphone to call for help.

Hmm.

So please world, try not to call me too much.

If you do, and I don’t answer, please don’t try again.

Maybe I’m praying right now. Or talking to someone else in person. Or I’m driving and don’t need to hear my phone ringing repeatedly. Or (yup, I’m saying it) I JUST DON’T WANT TO TALK TO YOU RIGHT NOW.

It is my God given right to be left alone sometimes. It is not your God given right to speak to me when you want to, and to bug me incessantly until I pick up.

I gained a cellphone today.

I feel like I lost so much more.

Those of us involved daily in education know things don’t happen like they always do in the movies.

Picture it:

The kids are all misbehaving.

Then the teacher does something. Says the right word. Smiles the right way. Beats up the right hooligan.

And from this point onward everyone hangs on their every word, treating them like the parent they always wished they had.

Sounds great.

But it’s just the movies.

Real moments of inspiration are rare. And they don’t come without hard work.

And they also seldom come when you expect them.

I recently met a parent who told me one of his son’s most precious and inspirational moments this year occurred during my class.

I beamed with pride.

I started flashing to all the brilliant things I had said, delving deep into the magic of my own profundity to try and discover what I had done that had touched this child so.

And daddy told me…

During class I had the students do a small art project. Their son was in the center of the room, so when I put down the supplies, I put them on his desk.

Their son, who was new to the school and had yet to meet many of the other students, was all of a sudden surrounded by the entire class.

He felt so wonderful and special being the instant center of attention.

And all I had to do was… nothing at all.

The greatest inspiration I provided came completely and totally by accident…

* * *

At first this idea bothered me.

I try so hard each and every day to have an impact on my students’ lives.

Why can’t it be that I touch their hearts when I’m trying to, rather than when I arbitrarily throw some construction paper on a student’s desk?

But after some time, this no longer bugged me.

I became very contented by this thought:

Here I am on the front lines every day of my life, trying my hardest to make the greatest impact possible on the children I interact with.

If I’m not there, no one is.

Inspiration is possible because I try and make it possible.

Sometimes I succeed when I want to.

Sometimes I fail no matter what I do.

Other times I succeed when I least expect it.

But if I wasn’t there, it would never happen.

I’m trying, and that’s what matters.