I don’t usually include Torah study or sermon type things in this blog, but thought I would give it a go today, mainly because I wrote this for a different purpose and wanted to reuse it. So, in a departure from my normal style and subjects, here is a bit of Torah commentary:

In the Torah portion, Chayei Sara, which Jews all around the world will read this weekend,  Abraham sends his servant to his homeland to find a wife for his son, Isaac (Gen: 24). The servant goes and as he comes into the city, says to God, “I will go to the well, and ask for water to drink. The woman who not only offers me water, but also water for my camels, she will be the wife for my master’s son.” Immediately thereafter, Rebekah comes down to the well, She is not only of Abraham’s family, but when the servant asks for water to drink, she offers for him and his camels.

The question I ask is this: why does Abraham’s servant use the offer of water for the camels as the sign? Surely he might have asked God to indicate the girl in another way, for example, by her clothing. Or, he might have asked God to give a sign in which she approached him, rather than he asking her for water. Why does he ask for a sign in which he must first ask the question?

The servant, whom the ancient rabbis tell us is Eleazar, a servant of Abraham mentioned elsewhere in the Torah, has set up a system that ensures that Isaac’s wife will be a woman who will serve help build the family. When he asks for water, she is concerned not just with his needs, but also with those of his animals. If she will do this for a stranger, how much the more so will she be concerned with the welfare of his master’s son’s household? She responds to the need which she perceives, not just what is asked of her.

In a later, Torah portion, when Isaac is getting ready to distribute blessings, Rebekah acts to deceive Isaac and to get the blessing for Jacob instead of Esau. She organizes the family for the good of the Jewish people. She acts, without needing God to tell her to act. She sees the necessary action, and she takes it. In this way, she is exactly what Isaac needs as a wife: not a someone who communes with God, but someone who sees what needs to be done, and does it.

For my exercise, I’m once again walking. My goal is an hour of walking, three times a week. I started today.

I went walking in the neighborhood, never more than a mile from the house, but for over 90% of the walk, I was walking on streets I’d never before walked (or driven, for that matter). It’s not like I don’t walk a fair amount, but I tend to walk to get someplace, and tend to have somewhat set routes. Today I was walking for the sake of exercise, and wandering wherever my feet took me. After a time, I deliberately sought out streets I hadn’t walked before, looking to see some new things. Which I did (I wish I’d had my camera with me today, I saw some odd houses).

It all made me wonder, how many walks can I take while walking new streets? Today, there were many other choices I could have made in the same general direction which would also have been new. And that was in only one direction, and arguably, one I know most well. So I’m thinking, I am, that I will set out to explore this neighborhood more thoroughly, and see what I see. Ideally with a camera, but even if not, just to know the neighborhood better, to get to know the little eccentricities of the side streets is well worth the time exploring.

Portland is a great town for walking and looking. I’ve just got to remember to do it.

Last week was a busy week rabbinically. I performed a wedding, spent an hour and a half consulting with an organization trying to decide what to become, visited a world religions class as the guest speaker about Judaism, spent most of Thursday hanging out with rabbis for the Oregon Board of Rabbis meeting in Eugene and taught an introduction to Judaism class about Mysticism. In between all of this, I wrote about 20,000 words of fiction, in which the protagonist is a rabbi doing rabbi-like things. It’s the mysticism class, however, that I want to focus on right now.

You would think that teaching a class on Mysticism would be fairly easy for me. After all, I self-define as a mystic. I have a fairly clear definition of mysticism (the belief in the essential oneness of everything). And, on a good day, I’m somewhat articulate. Yet, as I set out to plan the class, and also as I was teaching it, I found I was having  trouble explaining something I understand fairly well.

I discovered that teaching mysticism is difficult not because the basic ideas are difficult, but because the background those assumptions are built upon is fairly extensive. Mysticism is not, in general, a way into religion, but rather the “upper level course,” as it were. While it is a simpler theology than many other forms of religious theology, it does, to some degree, require familiarity with those theologies to make sense. It also requires familiarity with secular philosophy.

As I was teaching, I discovered I had to back up and teach Plato’s metaphor of the cave. I discovered I had to back up and teach some basic theory about the academic study of religion: the separation between elite understanding and folk understanding of religion. I discovered I needed to teach a bit of history, to put events into context.

To me, most surprisingly, I found that I was teaching in a less linear way than I prefer. Rather, I was circling around, teaching the same ideas over and over again, hoping that by using different words, different examples and different metaphors, people would begin to get what I was talking about. I’ve often described theology as a process of pointing in a direction, and as you use multiple different accounts to point at the same place but while standing in different places, you begin to sense where it is those theologies point. I’ve never felt it so clearly as during this class.

By the end, I think about 80% of the students had a fairly clear idea of what I was talking about. All in all, that’s not too bad. After all, at least one of the students was asleep by the end. For me, however, it was a humbling experience. I think of myself as a good teacher, especially of abstract subjects, like theology or philosophy (or religion, for that matter). I’m not used to having to struggle this hard to explain something I understand. Yet, in that struggle, I begin to appreciated the struggles of those who tried to teach this to me. I don’t know how many times I had Jewish Mysticism explained to me before I began to get it. I assumed it was a function of me not being able to understand what was being said, or perhaps of teachers who were not as clear as they should have been. I begin now to see that we all struggle to explain something that verges on being beyond explanation, and is truly clear only through direct experience.

* * *

By the way, for those who were wondering about the question from my previous post, I decided not to write on Shabbat. Because I was working towards a 50,000 word goal, it was too much about accomplishing, not enough about the spirituality of writing. And besides, I might have been a little obsessed with the writing thing, and a day off from obsession is a good thing.

As I’m working feverishly on my novel for National Novel Writing Month (18,000 words, thanks for asking), I’m approaching the first Saturday of the month. Which raises a question for me. Do I work on the novel on the sabbath?

On the one hand, I try not to use a computer on Shabbat, because it’s too work like. And in some ways, this writing really is work, in the sense of productive labor.

On the other hand, I’m having a lot of fun writing, and it’s a spiritual activity, especially given the spiritual themes of the novel. And, after all, I’ve got 50,000 words to get done before a deadline.

I really don’t know where I’m going to come out. There is work I’m willing to do on Shabbat (like lead services, for instance). But without boundaries, Shabbat ceases to have true meaning. Studying spiritual text is very traditional as a Shabbat activity. But writing it isn’t. I’m balancing, weighing the questions, trying to find a comfortable result.

I’m trying hard not to let the target of 50k words drive my decision. That’s not what Shabbat is about, and frankly, that drive is the most compelling reason to me NOT to write on Shabbat: the goal oriented nature of 50,000 words is very much not shabbastik (doesn’t feel like shabbat).

A more traditional Jew doesn’t wrestle with these questions. There are clear boundaries that one adheres to. For those of us who seek to live by finding our own path through the tradition, creating meaningful ways of celebrating and observing, the questions are tougher. Competing values come into play, and the decisions are up to us, not the rabbi we ask for a ruling.

For now, I remain undecided, but leaning towards writing. But tune in next week for the answer.

Ever since Sunday morning rolled around, I’ve been working on my new project: NaNoWriMo. Just a reminder of what that entails: 50,000 words of fiction during the month of November. Which comes out to 1667 words a day. No problem, right?

Except…I’m flying to the East Coast to see family on November 20th. I suspect my writing time during the last third of the month is going to drop off considerably. So, ideally, I’d love to be done by November 20th. Which brings the necessary daily word total to 2500. Still not too bad. I can knock that out in a couple of hours most days probably. Assuming I don’t have to do anything like think about plot.

I write pretty quickly and comfortably. In general, I don’t tend to suffer from writer’s block, per se. When I’m blocked, it’s usually because I don’t know what to write, not that I don’t know how to write it. If I get stuck, it’s going to be because I haven’t figured out where I’m going with the story…and sometimes I just need to take time and do something else while the story works itself out in my mind. Which is normally okay. But I’m on a deadline here.

We’ll see how this goes. If I don’t make the 50,000 words by the end of the month, so it goes. Frankly, I won’t be terribly surprised. It’s an ambitious goal. If I reach the end of the month and have written 50,000 words, and discovered they have no redeeming social importance, I really won’t be surprised. On the other hand, I’m pretty sure I’ll learn something from the process.

I’m thinking I might give out bits and pieces of what I’m writing about here over the course of the month. Basic theme: God confronts Rabbi. Hilarity ensues.

By the way, for anyone keeping track, as of the end of yesterday, I was at 7700 words.

The world marches to its own beat, which those of us living life just sort of have to try to keep up with. Yesterday I announced I was going to give NaNoWriMo a try since it looked like I wasn’t going to be employed during the month of November. The world, therfore, in its inimitable way, today put two job possibilities in my path (by the way,  I am completely not complaining…I’m just bemused).

These job possibilities are not brand new…I’d been chasing them for the last week. But neither did they come out of any of the previous four months of job search I’ve been doing. It’s not as though work I’d done earlier was finally paying off, but rather the blooming of two new possibilities.

I’m not going to describe either possibility in detail, both because they are very potential at this point, and because I don’t want to jinx them, but they are two positions that probably best use my business skills of any I’ve looked at. They are both small business generalist positions: some marketing, some administration, some finance and some community outreach. In both cases, I believe I am the only candidate (in fact, in at least one case, the position would be built around my skill set).

My point is, however, that yesterday, when I announced I was going to do NaNoWriMo, I wondered whether that announcement was the surest way to produce a job. After all, as the saying goes, humans plan, God laughs. And while God isn’t laughing yet, things are beginning to line up in a way that would be both lovely and make it difficult to complete NaNoWriMo.

I am sure you all will  be watching the progress of this as closely as I (okay, I might be somewhat more interested in the results than you), so I will keep you posted. After all, the fate of a novel hangs in the balance.

Up until now, I haven’t been taking on any longer term (like, say a month-long) projects, because I wanted to be ready to start a job at a moment’s notice. Therefore, I did not sign up for NaNoWriMo back in August, thinking that if I were at a new job by November, NaNoWriMo might not be a good thing to have on my plate. But now, I am announcing my participation.

Wait, what’s that? You want to know what NaNoWriMo is? Oh, just this little cult thing…

Well, not quite.

Actually, it is NAtional NOvel WRIting MOnth. Every November, people dedicate themselves to producing 50,000 words of text, often fiction. It’s something I’ve wanted to do for the last few years, but haven’t felt like I had the time to do so, what with CubeSpace and all. So this year, with no CubeSpace, and no steady employment to interfere, I’m in.

Do I have a plot for my great work of fiction. Umm….I have a premise, isn’t that enough? Okay, I’ll grant I need to flesh out my plan a little. I might even give tidbits of progress and hints about where it’s going here and on Twitter. And if you’re really nice I’ll shut up and keep quiet about it.

Let’s just say that the plan is for a challenging, funny, theological novel. Not necessarily my own theology, but theology. Oh, and it will probably be written in the 1st person (though I have one plot in mind that might be partly written in the first person subjunctive).

So, as I set out on this writing adventure, any words of advice? Any tools I should know about? Any jeers from the bleachers? Bring it on, ’cause I’m a NaNoWriMoer.

I’m a rabbi. Yet even I struggle with celebrating Shabbat and the holidays, setting them apart the way I wish to. I don’t tend to work on Shabbat, but lately it hasn’t felt as special as I’d like it to feel. And I’m realizing that a part of this is that I don’t use all the tools at my disposal to make it special.

Jewish tradition teaches that we should begin the sabbath by lighting candles, saying a blessing sanctifying the day over a cup of wine and eating a relaxed meal. Many people also go to synagogue to begin Shabbat with a service. The end of Shabbat is marked by another ceremony, maybe 5 minutes in length, called havdalah. These rituals serve as signposts in time, separating a day of sanctity and rest from the rest of the work week. Yet recently, I’ve been neglecting all of these rituals.

Shabbat happens whether I observe the rituals or not. I even observe Shabbat by not working whether I observe the rituals or not. However the time feels different when set apart by ritual. I am able to mark beginning and end, to know when the computer must be turned off, and when I can turn it back on. These markers are important to feeling the full impact of the day, not because it changes what I do on the day, but because it changes the intentionality with which I do it. The closest comparison I can make is the difference between killing time by playing a video game and playing a video game with the intention of giving oneself a break from work. When one is consciously taking a break, one is more refreshed afterwards. The rituals of Shabbat are sort of like that.

So with all these good reasons for using the rituals of Shabbat, why haven’t I been? Habit. When at CubeSpace we got out of the habit because when we got home at the end of the week we were too tired for anything other than complete collapse. After CubeSpace’s demise, I think it just didn’t occur to us to change our pattern. But now, it is time to change patterns. It is time to engage with the rituals once again. To make shabbat rather than just letting it happen.

Recently, I’ve noticed that time seems to be flying by at an outrageous rate. I wake up Monday, and all of a sudden it somehow gets to be Friday, and I haven’t gotten nearly as much done as I plannned. It’s the end of Summer, and now, suddenly I find Halloween just over a week away. Time is flying with exceptional speed. And I feel like I’m looking around, trying to figure out where I am and what I’m doing.

Part of the fleeting nature of time, at the moment, is the lack of ordered markers. There are days when the calendar is altogether empty (admittedly, there are also days when I run from meeting to meeting, but fewer of those). Somehow, when I’ve got more things on my calendar, I’m more productive.  The current light schedule is absolutely killing my productivity.

I’m looking to change this, to schedule more of my life. To schedule my time in the yard in the morning, to schedule specific work times, and to schedule play times. It is time for me to take control of time, rather than let it sift through my fingers like sand.

As anyone who has been unemployed can tell you, the toughest part of unemployment is the hit your confidence takes. After hearing “I don’t think we have a use for someone with your skill-set” enough times, you begin to feel like you just aren’t useful. At least, I do.

This isn’t an intellectual belief, but rather an emotional reaction. Intellectually, I know I am outrageously competent. I have both extensive life experience, academic credentials and work experience that are hard to match. I know this, but when I hear enough people telling me their organization can’t use me, it begins to erode that intellectual confidence.

But, it turns out, I am competent. I spent about an hour on the phone doing what I do best: problem solving. Someone wanted some advice on contracts for visiting rabbis. I happen to have signed several such contracts myself, as well as cleaned up messes in congregations when such contracts didn’t work out the way they wanted. I’ve also signed lots of contracts in the business world, and dealt with lots of contractors of various kinds. All of which means, I have a lot to offer someone who is less familiar with contracting for rabbinic services.

Admittedly, I didn’t get paid for this advice. On the other hand, I got my name out there. And more importantly, I reminded myself that I am competent and my work is valuable. Now I just need to convince someone with money to hire me of this.