The Journey of Passover Can Help Us Land a Person on Mars!

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It all began when my daughter successfully graduated from Space Camp.

After a weekend at NASA’s Space Camp learning about outer space and how to get there, I started to ponder space exploration and boundaries. Seeing the photo above, I found myself reminded of the story of Passover and how it applies to today’s outer space discoveries.

During Passover, we refer to Egypt as “Mitzraim” in Hebrew. Mitzraim literally means, “narrow place.”

For Egypt, “narrow” has metaphorical and physical meaning. It can refer to the mindset regarding slavery in Egypt. In many cases, contemporary slavery can be the result of an encumbered mind – a narrow viewpoint that prevents us from seeing a broader or expanded perspective.

In contemporary life, the symbolism of the Exodus story resonates deeply. The process of escaping from slavery in “Egypt,” upheld by a narrow and encumbered mind, to wandering in the wilderness, and finally reaching freedom in the Promised Land (Eretz Yisrael/Israel), is still intensely relevant.

The physical meaning of Egypt’s “narrow place” is found in the heavily populated area surrounding the Nile.  Although Egypt is a very large country, the vast majority of its population lives along the banks of the Nile. This leaves the rest of the country in relative darkness.

One time, I took my daughter, Caroline, to Space Camp, which is part of NASA and the U.S. Space and Rocket Center in Hunstville, Alabama. While viewing the NASA space exhibits, I was struck by this photo of Egypt and Israel at night taken from outer space. The lights in Egypt are all along the Nile, literally giving Egypt a narrow physical appearance. The rest of the country is completely dark (see photo).
realmap
As we successfully graduated from Space Camp and thought of our astronauts who have flown to outer space and landed on the moon, I was struck by the power of the unencumbered mind. Space travel is only possible when people leave the gravitational pull of earth and reach for the unknown possibilities in the stars. Astronauts fly into the darkness, not knowing the impact their light and journey will have. Similarly, the Israelites set out into the dark desert with a hope of freedom and light.

As we say at each Seder: “Next year in Jerusalem!” We continually hope and strive towards breaking past the darkness that may surround us.

Similarly, we have followed President Kennedy’s exhortation for our country to be the first to land a man on the moon, flying off into the great unknown. Now, we strive to be the first country to land a person on Mars.

In the next two decades, thanks to leaving behind a narrow and constrained mind and attitude, we will land a person on Mars! Our nation of dreamers is ready to further explore outer space, unencumbered by the obstacles that may arise.

Soon, our minds and dreams wide, we may be able to say, “Next year in Mars!”

 

Caroline Space Camp

Further reading:

Read about Jessica Meir, an Israeli-American Astronaut who participated in the historic first all-female space walk and who celebrated Hanukkah in space.

Here is an article about Jewish astronauts throughout the history of space exploration.

This article about how two Russian cosmonauts commemorated International Holocaust Remembrance Day in space.

You Can’t Quench Your Thirst If You Are Too Thirsty

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How self love is the most important love you can have.

Each Yom Kippur, I diligently and reflectively fast for 24 hours. Yom Kippur is a day set apart by the Torah for us to “practice self-denial” (Leviticus 23:27). This self-denial is typically expressed through fasting. I have traditionally broken the fast with a close family friend. He is an accomplished oenophile. He always serves the most extraordinary bottles of Italian wine, my favorite, for our break fast toast. Although I absolutely love Italian wine, our first glass of wine never really tastes that good. I have always wondered why. I recently learned the reason.

When I normally drink my favorite Italian red wine, it transports me. I love the flavors. I love the memories. Each sip truly tastes so good. However, at the break the fast, the first sip doesn’t react with my taste buds in the same way. I recently realized that I am too thirsty. Because my throat is so parched from the 24-hour fast, I really can’t taste the wine. I am literally too thirsty to drink. When I am normally sated and not fasting, I can truly taste each tannin of the wine. It magically transforms my taste buds to transport my wining experience.

I learned this distinction this year when I discovered the importance of self love. If you are so deprived of love, you can never truly receive the blessing of someone else’s life. You experience such a deprivation of love. If you have love for yourself, then you can more readily receive the blessing of someone else’s love. You are not so parched and thirsty.

Self love truly enables your proverbial wine cup to “runneth over” and to truly enjoy the blessings of friendship and love.

La Chaim! To life and self love!

Gam Zeh Ya’avor “This Too Shall Pass”

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Heartfelt thanks to Rabbi Daniel Gropper for sharing this poignant Rosh Hashanah sermon about difficulties we all face from time-to-time.

On the coffee table in my study is a cardboard box containing baseball cards of every Jewish Major Leaguer who played the game between 1871 and 2003. These cards are often the fascination of many a Bar Mitzvah boy and their fathers. All jokes aside, it is not an empty box. There are many more cards there than just Shawn Green, Hank Greenberg and Moe Berg.  One such card is of Bob Tufts. Bob was a Massachusetts native who, during the 1980s pitched in 27 major league games. According to the records from the American Jewish Historical Society, he is one of only six major league ball players who converted to Judaism. At the ceremony marking his conversion, Bob was asked if he would like to choose a Jewish name. His response: “Yes…. Sandy Koufax.”

Whether or not he knew it, even through his humorous response, Tufts was actually doing a very Jewish thing. According to our tradition, the act of naming someone – even oneself – is an effort to say something hopeful about the future of the one being named. When a baby, for example, is named after a loved one – it is done, not only to honor the memory of the person who passed, but also to express a heartfelt hope that the values that made that person special will somehow live on in this new life.

In a larger sense, we too, at this time of year, do our own kind of naming. During the Holy Days, it is traditional as we meet and talk with one another, to give names of hope to the year ahead: “Shanah Tovah – “A good year” — “Shana Metukah” – “A Sweet Year” “Shanah Shel Bri’ut” – “A Healthy Year.” These names, these thoughtful greetings to the season are our way of praying that these qualities: goodness, sweetness and good health will somehow find their way into this new year.

And yet… what if we know… what if we already know as we enter this year that, for us, the coming months really won’t be defined by goodness… or sweetness.. or by good health? What if I already know – that, either in my own life or in the life of someone I love – the coming year is going to be really hard? How am I to enter this new year? What blessing is there for me?

Some of us enter this year battling cancer and other diseases that turn our world asunder. Some are navigating a new life as a single parent, as divorce has upset the equilibrium of our lives. Others are waiting for the puzzle pieces of their family to realign after the death of a parent, a spouse, a sibling, a child.

Perhaps the following story might help, or at least lend some perspective….

One day the wise King Solomon decided to humble Benaiah ben Yehoyada, his most trusted minister. He said to him, “Benaiah, there is a certain ring that I want you to bring to me. I wish to wear it for Sukkot which gives you six months to find it.”

“If it exists anywhere on earth, your majesty,” replied Benaiah, “I will find it and bring it to you, but what makes the ring so special?”

“It has magic powers,” answered the king. “It can make a happy man sad and a sad man happy.” Solomon knew that no such ring existed in the world, but he wished to give his minister a little taste of humility.

Spring passed and then summer and still Benaiah had no idea where he could find the ring. On the night before Sukkot, he decided to take a walk in one of the poorest quarters of Jerusalem. He passed by a merchant who had begun to set out the day’s wares on a shabby carpet. There were rings and earrings and bracelets. “Have you by any chance heard of a magic ring that makes a happy man sad and a sad man happy?”

The merchant had heard of no such ring. But then, as if by magic, the merchant’s father appeared. With an old gnarled finger he beckoned to Benaiah. As he watched, the grandfather took a plain gold ring from the carpet and engraved something on it. When Benaiah read the words on the ring, his face broke out in a wide smile.

That night the entire city welcomed in the holiday of Sukkot with great festivity. “Well, my friend,” said Solomon, “have you found what I sent you after?” All the ministers laughed and Solomon himself smiled.

To everyone’s surprise, Benaiah held up a small gold ring and declared, “Here it is, your majesty!” As soon as Solomon read the inscription, the smile vanished from his face. The jeweler had written three Hebrew letters on the gold band: _gimel, zayin, yud_, which began the words “_Gam zeh ya’avor_” — “This too shall pass.”

Rainbows Only Come after Rain

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Recently, facing uncertainty and feeling sad, a friend told me “rainbows come only after rain”. This really struck me. I was feeling sad, but encouraged I would someday see a rainbow. Although I wasn’t certain when the rainbow would appear, my sadness lessened knowing it ultimately would. I looked to the Torah for the meaning of the rainbow.

In Genesis 9, the story of Noah’s Ark unfolds. Basically, God instructs Noah to build an Ark in order to save his family and a pair of all animal species, because God was going to flood the earth and destroy all remaining inhabitants who were not aboard the ark. God wanted a reset and Noah to begin life anew. After the flood, God presented a Rainbow to Noah, signifying his promise to never to destroy all life on earth again.

“When I send clouds over the earth, and a rainbow appear in the sky, I will remember my promise to you and to all other living creatures. Never again will I let floodwaters destroy all life. When I see the rainbow in the sky, I will always remember the promise that I have made to every living creature. The rainbow will be the sign of that solemn promise” (Gen.9:14-17). Please remember that we all have the blessing of God’s rainbow covenant to recover from any storm.

“Somewhere over the rainbow way up high blue birds fly….”

Please enjoy this video of “Somewhere over the Rainbow” as sung by Israel Kamakawiwo’ole.

What My Mom Taught Me About Life After She Died

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After my mom died (November 2015), she taught me so much about life, including both how to mourn and how to rejoice. It is my hope that by sharing my journey of grief and renewal over the past year that it may bring comfort to you when you lose a loved one.

Among the most significant lessons I learned was the value of living the rhythms of both the Jewish life cycle and the annual calendar cycle. Together, they provided me with a meaningful ritual framework in which to mourn, reflect, and celebrate again. Although the holidays seemed like they would contain a major void with the loss of my mother, observing them with family and friends actually helped me process my loss. I learned that a broken heart allows light in.

andy_momWhen my mom died I felt a tremendous sense of loss and I was overwhelmed with grief. I was so much at a loss that I completely immersed myself in the Jewish mourning traditions. The first step was to plan the funeral. This involved three activities: the funeral logistics, writing a eulogy, and assembling photos of my mom and of my family for a photo montage.

Each of these activities engaged a different facet of myself: the funeral logistics occupied my mind, reviewing and assembling photos occupied my heart, and writing my eulogy occupied my soul.

Our family was fortunate to have unity among the three brothers in planning and participating in my mom’s funeral. We actually had two services, one in Allentown, PA where she lived most of her life, and a second, more formal service and burial in the Berkshires in Massachusetts. The Berkshires is the heart of our family and the site of so many family gatherings. It stood out to me as the perfect location for my mom’s final resting place. She would have loved the view from the top of her hill.

After the funeral, we followed several of the Jewish traditions of Shiva. This is a seven-day mourning period during which family and friends visit your home, bring food and drink, and comfort you. During this first period of mourning I did not do any work, cooking, or exercise. Although I had no idea what to expect or say when the first people came to pay their respects, I quickly found the days of Shiva to be very helpful. Our rabbi would come each evening and lead us in prayer, including the recitation of the Mourner’s Kaddish, which I, as the mourner, said publicly in the presence of my family and friends. Since it is a longstanding tradition to say the Kaddish with a minyan (10 Jewish adults), my friends’ presence became an important gift to me and a way of honoring my mom. On the final morning of Shiva, I took a meditative walk around the block with family and friends to signify re-entry into “semi-normal life.” When the rabbi first mentioned this tradition, I didn’t think much of it, but it felt very moving to take these next steps in the mourning process in a focused and concrete way.

The next period of Jewish mourning is known as the Shloshim. This is the 23 days following Shiva; the first 7 days of Shiva plus the 23 days equals 30, which is what Shloshim means in Hebrew. During this period, I returned to work and slowly readapted to “normal” life. During the Shloshim period, I attended a minyan every afternoon to recite the Mourners Kaddish. I was fortunate to find a service near my office. Although I understand only bits and pieces of the Hebrew prayers, I found comfort and support in community. Saying the Kaddish also helped me feel connected to my mom. On Friday nights, we attended services at our temple, where my mom’s name was read aloud just before the Mourners Kaddish. This gesture helps others know who is in mourning and may need extra support. I found the Shabbat services poignant because they inevitably involved different lifecycle moments: a baby naming, a bar or bat mitzvah, an engagement, a birthday or anniversary, and a death. It was an important reminder of the fullness of life.

In our case, Thanksgiving fell directly within the Shloshim period. I really did not want to celebrate Thanksgiving. I did not want to cook and remember all of the wonderful times that we prepared and celebrated Thanksgiving with my mom in the Berkshires. It just didn’t seem right. Nevertheless, I followed the path. I put one foot in front of the other and tried to live into the seasons. My brothers and I decided we would have a festive Thanksgiving to honor the spirit of our mother. We cooked our usual feast, with one exception: my younger brother, Alex took our mother’s place as the pastry chef and made her famous apple and pecan pies. In the midst of our tears, we found comfort gathering as a family. We planted a tree in mom’s honor and replanted a few gnomes from her garden, which we had brought to their new home in the Berkshires.

As fate would have it, our Shloshim period ended the day before Hanukkah. As was the case with Thanksgiving, I had mixed feelings about the arrival of Hanukkah. However, this year, Hanukkah took on even more significance than usual because we launched Breaking Matzo: Hanukkah Edition just two days before my mom died. Knowing the end was near, I envisioned this project as a tribute to my mom. I was so moved to show her the new edition to the website while she was in the hospital. Mom was so happy and smiled as she listened to our theme song and watched the fun-filled videos of my kids making menorahs, dreidels, and latkes. As a result, our Hanukkah celebration took on extra meaning as we basked in the light of the menorah and felt my mom’s spirit with us.

I continued to stumble through the year. Each holiday brought with it a new first: the first New Year’s Eve not to call her to say “Happy New Year,” the first Valentine’s Day not to send her a card, and of course, the first Mother’s Day not to thank her for all she had done for us. Step by step, with the love and support of my family and friends, I learned to move forward.

After Passover, I had a wonderful trip to Israel where I felt my mom’s presence and discovered new connections with her. I felt a renewed sense of life’s possibilities, and a desire to engage in life more fully. In my own way, I felt like my mom was communicating with me. It brought me unexpected joy.

As I approached the end of my year of mourning, I realized that the final Jewish holiday I would celebrate during this period of remembrance was Succot. Succot is the festival of booths and a holiday dedicated to rejoicing. We are commanded to “dwell” in our succot for 7 days and to eat, drink, and be joyous with our family, friends, and community. In my mom’s case, her last visit to our house came just after Succot. I left our succah up an extra two weeks so that my mom could participate in some way in our family celebration. Interestingly, when I was going through boxes from her house, I found an article she had written about Succot in the 1980’s. In the article, she spoke of leaving up her succah for two weeks so that an elderly neighbor who was away during the holiday could enjoy seeing the next generation celebrate the festival. My mom truly loved Succot. We had so many wonderful memories together in our succah.

It seemed to me an amazing coincidence that Succot would begin and end my year of mourning. In thinking about the origins of this ancient holiday, I turn to two primary images of the succah: the first is the humble tents that the Israelites dwelled in after escaping from slavery in Egypt. At this stage of their development, the Children of Israel had nothing, except for their faith in God, who provided for them in the wilderness. The second image of the succah is one of abundance, as the Israelites settled in the land of Israel and created temporary booths to collect the annual fall harvest. As I celebrated Succot this year, I was reminded of my own two succahs: the sadness of my mom’s passing, and the blessings of her memory. As my daughter Lucy said in her eulogy for my mom, “I don’t remember everything that Nana taught me, but I will always remember how she made me feel.” Mom, you have always been there for me and made me feel full of love. Thank you.

There is nothing more difficult than saying goodbye to a loved one but having a year-long period to mourn, remember and celebrate a family member who has passed is a very meaningful experience that helps mitigate the loss, focus on their life, and how we want to live our lives.

Related Reading:
A Brief Guide to Jewish Mourning: Honoring Our Loved Ones & Life

What is Your Family Legacy?

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Mayer Yellin and his son Normie (Andy’s grandfather and great grandfather) in front of Mayer’s bar in Hartford, CT circa 1913.

I think that leaving a legacy creates meaning for each of us. Legacy can help create a sense of belonging and may mitigate any feelings of loneliness.

How can we find meaning in our lives? Can we look to our family traditions for guide and inspiration?

What legacy has your family left to you? What is your legacy that you will leave to your family?

My greatest physical family legacy is my Passover handwasher (pictured below) that has been in my family since the late 1800s. I wrote about how this ordinary object has been transformed into one of my most extra ordinary possessions. (From my breakingmatzo blog: One example of something ordinary to extraordinary in my life is my family’s antique brass hand washer. I received it as a gift from my grandmother, Helen Fish Goldfarb. Her father, my great grandfather Max Fish received it from his father (my children’s great great great grandfather Moshe Fish). It is from the late 1800’s in Dynow Poland and has been in my family for over 100 years.)


Does your family has an artifact or heirloom that has been handed down over the generations?

I wrote about the incredible life of Max Fish and how he saved over 42 relatives from the Holocaust. Some of my fondest Passover highlights as a child were celebrating Passover Seders in Pikesville, MD, with Eugene Fish’s family, one of Max Fish’s sons.

The Passover handwasher (pictured above) truly connects my children to over 150 years of our family heritage because it is a physical connection to our family background. This physical object can transport my children and their children through a portal to connect with our family history. https://breakingmatzo.com/philosophy/food-for-thought-seder-discussion-topics/

My mom (of blessed memory) gave me her lasting legacy of the love for Passover and celebrating the Jewish Home Holidays. My mom’s spirit is what has motivated me to create Breaking Matzo. Over the past two years, I have been so humbled by the beautiful comments that our community has shared about how you also share and celebrate the Jewish home holidays with your family and friends. All of your traditions and thoughts have been so inspirational.

When I thought about my physical connection to my great grandfather and my mom, I wondered about where I came from?

After some research, I discovered that both of my great grandmothers were born in the same year in the same town – both in 1882 in Vilna, Lithuania. My great grandparents all came to the United States around 1900. I also discovered that both sets of my great grandparents were married in the same year -1907, over 110 years ago.

When I thought about the legacies that I have received from my family, I realized that my maternal grandfather, Normie Yellin, also taught me lessons that I have tried to pass along to my children. My family legacy from Normie was not physical, but emotional. Normie imbued me with the feeling of unconditional love and support. He wrote me weekly letters when I was at boarding school. His letters always included $20 for pizza with my friends. In the midst of the stress of boarding school life, Normie’s weekly handwritten letters always boosted my spirits, filled my stomach with food, and heart with love. I will never forget his favorite expression that he always told me when I was a little down or frustrated. Normie would say “don’t let anyone rain on your parade!” Then he would repeat it with emphasis “DON’T LET ANYONE RAIN ON YOUR PARADE!” It has really become one of my life mantras. My children know the expression instinctively. We have repeated it so often. A favorite saying that my Mom always told me, “The early bird gets the early worm; the late bird gets the late worm; there is always a worm.”

My final family legacy that I want to share is the oldest family photograph that I have. This photograph shows Max Fish and his father Moshe Fish (my children’s great great great grandfather) and other relatives celebrating Passover in 1930 in Dinov, Poland. Sadly, a number of his relatives were murdered in the Holocaust. Fortunately, Max came to the United States and enabled me to be here today.

This is the oldest family photo that our family has.

I think that this is part of what makes Breaking Matzo so special. It is a chance for all of us to share and celebrate legacy and traditions from our parents and grandparents and then to pass the same (and sometimes new) traditions to our children and grandchildren.

I believe that tradition is repetitive action imbued with meaning. You never know when the first will occur. We all have the opportunity to leave a mark on our world and leave a lasting legacy for future generations.

I would love to hear your thoughts:

  • What is the oldest legacy physical object in your family?
  • What is the family lesson that you have learned from your relatives and will pass to your family?
  • What is your oldest family photo?

Appendix:

I would like to share my family history with photos.

The oldest relatives that I remember meeting as a child are my paternal great grandparents, Max & Jenny Fish and my maternal great grandparents, Norman & Sophie Yellin.

Max Fish was born in 1881 in Dynov, Poland. Jenny Karnick Fish was born in 1882 in Vilna, Lithuania. They both came to the United States around 1900. Here is a photo of Andy with Max & Jenny Fish in 1968.

Andy with his Mom

Andy with his mom and paternal great grandparents Jenny & Max Fish and his brother Laurence.

March 24th, 2017 is my paternal great grandparents Max and Jenny Fish’s 110th anniversary (they got married on March 24th, 1907). Below is a photo of a locket which Jenny’s closest friends gave her to commemorate their 50th wedding anniversary in 1957.

Charm bracelet

Charm bracelet given to Jenny Fish by her friends to commemorate Jenny & Max’s 50th wedding anniversary.

My maternal great grandfather Mayer Yellin was born in Russia in 1884. Mayer Yellin and Bessie Cohen Yellin got married on February 17th, 1907, 110 years ago.

Mayer Yellin c. 1910

Portrait of Mayer Yellin c. 1910

Bessie Yellin c. 1910

Portrait of Bessie Yellin c. 1910

Andy with brother Laurence & Grandparents

Andy and his brother, Laurence, with his maternal grandparents, Norman & Sophie Yellin.

Unfortunately I never met them. However, I was very close with my maternal grandparents, Norman (Mayer Yellin’s son) and Sophie Rosen Yellin. Above is a photo of Andy and Laurence (my brother) with our maternal Grandparents (Normie and Sophie Yellin) in 1968.

 

 

 

How Making Space for Nothing Can Make You Feel More Complete

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How can making space for nothing make you more complete?

Why are Passover and Purim relevant in today’s world?

  • How can you feel more complete by creating space for nothing?
  • Can you actually become more fulfilled by being more empty?
  • Are you satisfied with your current life? Do you long for more?

Passover and Purim could provide important insights into these questions.

Living in Exile is an important theme in the Torah. In Genesis, Adam and Eve are exiled from the Garden of Eden (Genesis 2:1-2). Abraham becomes exiled from the land of Canaan (Genesis 3:23-24). During Exodus, the Israelites are exiled during their slavery in Egypt. The Book of Esther is one of the final books of the Bible. The book of Esther explains the exile of the Jews while living in Persia in 369-357 BCE. The story of Purim is how Queen Esther saves the Jews from extermination by the evil Haman.

Why does the Torah remind us so often of Exile? What is exile? Exile is the state of living in one land while longing to live in another land. The Jews were often living in Exile and always sought to return to Jerusalem. “Jerusalem” can be interpreted to be their Promised Land, a state of being which can be an aspirational place.

One of the most famous Psalms which directly discusses the concept of exile is Psalm 137. (Jimmy Cliff and the Melodians famously sang Rivers of Babylon. Matisyahu also sang Jerusalem which is also based on the lyrics of Psalm 137). The Jews have been taken in captivity by the Babylonians and their leader Nebuchadnezer in 586 BCE. The Babylonians demand that the Jews sing about Jerusalem. In the Psalm the Jews initially agonized about how they can sing about Jerusalem when they are in Exile. Their captors taunting them to sing catalyzed them into a sense of consciousness about their circumstances. They then realize that if they “forget Jerusalem, their right hand may as well forget what it is supposed to do.” In other words, they should never forget Jerusalem. Even while in captivity in Exile, they must always remember and aspire to return to Jerusalem. This feeling is punctuated in the last verse which expresses the rage against their captors. The idea is that you must really actively agitate during your captivity in Exile to aspire to Jerusalem. You should not be complacent in your existence.

How can we apply this to our daily lives? I immediately look for a food metaphor. Cooking risotto on the stove top comes to my mind. If you look at the pot, the risotto may look deliciously appetizing when you lift the top. However, upon closer inspection it may actually be burnt on the bottom of the pot. Thus the better way to cook risotto, is to actively stir the risotto during the cooking process. Stir the bottom, mix all of the risotto actively.

Let’s return to the concept of exile. Exile can be seen as your current life. In some ways, we may be a captive to a state of mind vs. a state of being, to our worries and daily anxieties. This captivity can be understood as a state of mind vs. state of being. Jerusalem can be imagined as our promised land, our spiritual utopia that we aspire to sing about and bring into our daily life in exile. Thus our vision of Jerusalem creates agitation in our current life so that we don’t become complacent. Our agitation creates space and emptiness so that we can then incorporate some elements of our vision of Jerusalem into our daily life and become more complete and fulfilled. Of course, this journey never ends. It is a constant journey of self-discovery.

Ironically, agitation can create cracks in your life foundation and this can actually be a good thing. The reason is because cracks in the foundation allow for space and growth. It creates room for incorporating lessons from Jerusalem (an aspirational state of being) into your daily life.

As Michael Singer wrote in The Untethered Soul, “The spiritual journey is one of constant transformation. In order to grow, you must give up the struggle to remain the same, and learn to accept change at all times.” (page 81). Singer also writes “Spirituality begins when you decide that you’ll never stop trying. Spirituality is the commitment to go beyond, no matter what it takes. It’s an infinite journey based on going beyond yourself every minute of every day for the rest of your life” (page 124)

I would like to conclude this blog with a quote from Anne Marie Bennstrom, founder of the Ashram, from her book entitled Kai, “Creation is constantly adapting and refining itself. Everything that has a beginning also has an end, and every end is also a new beginning, and between these two polarities, life unfolds its destiny.” (page 12)

 

Melodians Album Cover

 

Appendix:

The picture at the top of this blog is a piece of art by Kishio Suga which captures many of the elements of Psalm 137 in my mind. The main structure has cracks which have created emptiness that allows Jerusalem to fill the space. Jerusalem, an aspirational state of being, is outside of your daily life structure. See the pieces outside of the main structure.

Books:

https://www.amazon.com/Untethered-Soul-Journey-Beyond-Yourself/dp/1572245379

https://www.amazon.com/Kai-Altogether-Improbable-Love-Story/dp/1582704805

Psalm 137

 

Lyrics of Rivers of Babylon by the Melodians

By the rivers of Babylon Where he sat down
And there he wept
When he remembered Zion

But the wicked carried us away in captivity
Required from us a song
How can we sing King Alpha song in a strange land? ‘Cause the wicked carried us away in captivity Required from us a song
How can we sing King Alpha song in a strange land?

Sing it out loud
Sing a song of freedom, sister Sing a song of freedom, brother

We gotta sing and shout it
We gotta jump and shout it Shout the song of freedom now

So let the words of our mouth
And the meditation of our heart
Be acceptable in Thy sight, oh Far I So let the words of our mouth
And the meditation of our heart
Be acceptable in Thy sight, oh Far I

Sing it again!
We’ve got to sing it together We’ve got to shout it together

By the rivers of Babylon
Where we sat downAnd there we wept

When we remembered Zion
Oh, the wicked carried us away in captivity
Required from us a song
How can we sing King Alpha’s song in a strange land?

‘Cause the wicked carried us away in captivity Required from us a song
How can we sing King Alpha’s song in a strange land?

Sing it, sing it, sing it We’ve got to sing it, brother We’ve got to sing it, sister

Lyrics of Jerusalem by Matisyahu

In the ancient days, we will return with no delay
Picking up the bounty and the spoils on our way
We’ve been traveling from state to state
And them don’t understand what they say
Three thousand years with no place to be
They want me to give up my milk and honey
Don’t you see, it’s not about the land or the sea
Not the country but the dwelling of his majesty

Jerusalem, if I forget you
Fire not gonna come from me tongue
Jerusalem, if I forget you
Let my right hand forget what it’s supposed to do

Jerusalem, if I forget you
Fire not gonna come from me tongue
Jerusalem, if I forget you
Let my right hand forget what it’s supposed to do

Said, ah, rebuild the temple and the crown of glory
Years gone by, about sixty
We were burned in the oven in this century
And the gas tried to choke, but it couldn’t choke me

Will not lie down, I will not fall asleep
So they come overseas, yeah they’re trying to be free
Erase the demons out of our memory
Change your name and your identity

Afraid of the past and our dark history
Why is everybody always chasing we?
Cut off the roots from your family tree
Don’t you know that’s not the way to be

Jerusalem, if I forget you
Fire not gonna come from me tongue
Jerusalem, if I forget you
Let my right hand forget what it’s supposed to do

Jerusalem, if I forget you
Fire not gonna come from me tongue
Jerusalem, if I forget you
Let my right hand forget what it’s supposed to do

Said they caught up in their ways, and the world’s gone craze
Them don’t know it’s just a phase, case of the Simon says
If I forget the truth, my words won’t penetrate
Babylon burning in the place, can’t see through the haze
Chop down all of them dirty ways
That’s the price that you pay for selling lies to the youth
No way, not ok, there’s no way, not ok

Ain’t no one gonna break my stride
Ain’t no one gonna pull me down
Oh no, I got to keep on moving

Ain’t no one gonna break my stride
Ain’t no one gonna pull me down
Oh no, I got to keep on moving, say

Jerusalem, if I forget you
Fire not gonna come from me tongue
Jerusalem, if I forget you
Let my right hand forget what it’s supposed to do

Jerusalem, if I forget you
Fire not gonna come from me tongue
Jerusalem, if I forget you
Let my right hand forget what it’s supposed to do

Jerusalem, if I forget you
Jerusalem, if I forget you
Jerusalem, if I forget you
Jerusalem, if I forget you

Ordinary to Extraordinary Lives: Gena Turgel

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Holocaust survivor Gena Turgel passed away June 7, 2018 at the age of 95. Known as the “Bride of Belsen,” because she married one of the British soldiers responsible for liberating the Bergen-Belsen concentration camp, Turgel survived four concentration camps.

Born in 1923, Turgel was the youngest of nine children and was 16 when the Nazis invaded Poland. She was moved to the Krakow ghetto  with her mother and siblings where one of her brothers was shot by the SS and another fled never to be heard from again. She and her remaining family were sent to Plaszow labor camp where one of her sisters was shot as she tried smuggling food into the camp.  She and her remaining family were later forced to march to Aushwitz in the winter of 1944. In 1945, leaving her last sister behind, she and her mother spent four weeks on a “death march” to Buchenwald. They were later transported to Bergen-Belsen. It was there that she cared for Anne Frank who was dying from typhus.

On April 15, 1945, the British army liberated Bergen-Belsen. It was then that Turgel met Norman Turgel. The two married six months later. Turgel’s wedding dress was made from parachute silk. The two settled in the U.K. and had three children. She spent her life sharing her stories with thousands of students across the country and published her memoir, “I Light a Candel,” in 1987.

For more information on this extraordinary woman, click here.

Let’s Truly Express “Thank You” to All of Our Wonderful Moms

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pictured above: Andy and his mom (of blessed memory) when Andy was 5 years old

How can we properly say “thank you” to our moms?

With Mother’s Day approaching, I wanted share a message to help mark the moment.

It is so important to say “thank you” to our moms and express appreciation while we celebrate Mother’s Day.

There are so many ways to celebrate and say thank you. As I pass my second Mother’s Day without my mom, I am so grateful to have found blessings in her memories.

I wanted to share my reflections on our last Mother’s Day with our mom. Given that we all lived in different places, we were not always able to celebrate Mother’s Day in person together. We always sent flowers and cards and spoke on the phone. Given how serious our mom’s illness was, I asked both of my brothers and children to visit my mom in Boston at the hospital. It was truly bittersweet to all be together. We were so happy to celebrate our mom (and grandmother) but we knew it would be our last time together. Unbeknownst to the rest of us, the granddaughters prepared a special gift for our mom. They wrote a song for her.

For background, we traveled together with our mom for family vacations every other winter vacation. My mom was a prolific writer. She wrote thousand of articles, 11 books and one autobiographical play. Her most famous plays however were the plays she wrote for the four granddaughters on each family vacation. My mom and the granddaughters rehearsed each afternoon (a welcome respite for the parents) and performed the play on the last night. We all laughed and applauded. They were truly magical performances.

Andy’s mom with his daughters Lucy (left) and Caroline (middle) at Caroline’s Bat Mitzvah which was on Mother’s Day 2009

On our last Mother’s Day together, our daughters assumed our mom’s writing mantel and they wrote and sang a personalized song for our mom. It was such a beautiful and touching moment. My mom’s writing example and family celebration was fully reaIized by her granddaughters. When I prepared my mom’s funeral montage, I was fortunate to find video of my mom introducing one of these special family vacation plays. It is truly a moment that will live with us forever.

I have found a lot of joy in reliving moments that we shared with my mom and captured by taking photos.

I would encourage you to take photos during Mother’s Day to “create footsteps in the sand.”  It can be a real joy to look back at these special memories.

A favorite artist of mine once told me, “If you want to see different things, travel. If you want to see change, stay in the same place.” Taking photos of special family occasions helps tell the story of the event for a future memory. Taking a photo each year at the same occasion helps create a tapestry of life that illustrates how we have all evolved and changed.

Thank you so much to my mom (of blessed memory) and all of the wonderful moms in the world.

Andy’s mom with her grandsons Harrison and Myles on Mother’s Day 2013

Andy’s mom with her granddaughters Gabrielle and Olivia