Dizzy Dance (Vayetzei)

From Maniac World

As the season of (selfless?) giving approaches, I begin to silhouette - as I do every year- my wants against my needs. I am sure that I’m not the only 20-something who has been spending the last 2 1/2 years in a perpetual state of transition and uncertainty, ultimately inducing a sense of powerlessness at the cruel "real world" that was much more glamorous on MTV. I’d be lying if I didn’t seethe with more than a tinge of jealousy upon reading God’s lifetime guarantee to Jacob in this week's Parsha, Vayetzei. For 18 years or so, I was used to someone ushering me across a stage and getting a rolled up piece of paper, marking one transition after another, until I reached the finish line in my bright purple cap and gown, before finding myself teetering on the edge of the Sidewalk in Shel Silverstein's imagination. Wake-up call after wake-up call, I’m slowly learning what it means to be an adult, without any of the cushy certainty that Jacob was afforded in this portion.

Like many youngins, I used to entertain myself on especially slow recess days by spinning around in circles in the schoolyard until I fell down. Doing what I called "The Dizzy Dance." While the nausea billowed up inside me, I still spun around with that reckless childhood abandon that comes only with the sense of invincibility and the guaranteed carton of milk and nap after lunch. And now, years later, it’s admittedly a exciting to have this world teeming full of possibility and change, but I often feel like I’m in a perpetual state of dizzily dancing, without a place to land. Unlike Jacob, who, amidst a journey of uncertainty, finds great solace and the drive to move forward when he realizes his bright future, and the guarantee of comfort and land. Some days I wake up afraid of how possible my future is, almost debilitated by it. If someone were to hold up even a vague image of continuity and certainty, I think I would have a different type of resolve - like Jacob’s- to act self-assured and stable in my decisions and life choices.

This brings me to my current state of affairs - I recently had to transition between jobs, overcome by opportunities to do service projects, either in my current city of residence or while traveling throughout the US. Each of which - a "big girl" job and a 10-month road trip - were never a part of the “What do you want to be when you grow up?” discourse that graced oh-so-many grammar school bulletin boards. Among pictures of veterinarians helping sick puppies and doctors taking temperatures, children are never taught to aspire toward finding self-satisfaction in unpredictability. I made my decision to start a new job - one that’s unconventional, and solely focused on a controversial cause. I’ll never know if giving up the cross-country trip was ultimately the right decision, and I can’t very well lay my head on a rock and suddenly feel comfortable knowing my future the way Jacob does. Instead, I find myself making decisions with the line between want and need blurred, and the image of my future submerged in a fog of risks.

That said, I’m fairly certain I wouldn’t trade it for anything. The upheaval of making myself dizzy is pretty self-destructive, but I guess always wanted to be the sole source of my undoing and personal evaluation. And that type of resolve, my friends, is the better than any gift God can dream up for you.

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Go! ... And I'll C U When U Get There! (Lech Lecha)

Casseopia touched on this earlier this week, but in Lech Lecha, Abram is just told to go. (Genesis 12:1) He's given no specifics, just a big picture promise that it's going to work out in the end, despite the possibility for complications in between. A blogging buddy of mine, Jess of What? The Curtains? recently pointed out this is an attitude that applies when it comes to baseball, particularly for fans of the New York Yankees:

It's like the Yankees and Red Sox play out almost every season this choice of how you can view your life. The Yankees are all optimism and certainty that things will work out in the end. As my friend Aaron once said: 'The Yankees are God's team.' The Red Sox are all insecurity and uncertainty and neediness. In constant doubt they are worthy of winning.

The cliche about baseball is that it's a marathon, not a race. In April, the Sox swept and then took two of three from New York. In August, the Yankees swept and now just wrapped up their two-of-three at Fenway. Perfect symmetry to prove how baseball gives everyone a chance at redemption (like Giambi on Friday after his botches), a chance to balance wins with losses when there are enough opportunities to play.

Sometimes I think we believe life is supposed to unfold in a particular fashion of wins and losses. That it is supposed to be a sprint to be the win we want. But usually things unfold in a much more complicated fashion. At least, the things worth fighting for do.

Complicated, but worth it ... that's life. And it's an outlook I share. I got facetiously annoyed at Jess because she successfully married my attitude on living to the one professional sports team I actively despise.

And this is relevant more than ever for me right now. I graduated college more than two years ago, holding an internship at MLB.com that I only scored after being rejected and then run through the ringer a month later, before I ended up covering the Mets and the Yankees. (It made no sense to me either.) They extended me through the playoffs (plus), but then only needed me to freelance four articles the entire offseason (minus). So I put my passion for reading to good use and got a job at Barnes & Noble. And was working there for eight months. Living at home. Applying unsuccessfully to the few sports journalism openings I came across.

And *WHAM*

My former editor tells me there's a new job at the Baseball Hall. I apply and within six weeks, I'm living in the Boondocks, not a person I know within four hours. But it turns out there's a spoken word poetry scene. And an unofficial chapter of my fraternity. And I wing it until it makes sense.

A year and five months later, I'm organizing the local poetry scene, have met enough people to claim 73 Facebook friends at SUCO, moved in with two people I met up here, and only get back to New York every few months, because I'm well established enough that it's an inconvenience.

And two months after I had finally refocused, preparing myself to be here through August 2008, and a college friend tells me to keep an eye out because some stuff is going down at NBA.com. And a few weeks later, there's an official job opening. And a week after applying, a friend hit me up on GChat for the first time in a while, mentioning she was searching for a job. I mentioned the NBA application, and she lets on that a former coworker and friend is now working in HR there. My stuff gets forwarded through again, with a CLUTCH referral, and I get a phone call the next business day, setting up an interview for this coming Monday.

Honestly, I have no idea what's going on. And it's still an offer away from being really real. And it's a position that could evaporate at the end of the NBA season next year. But the situation screams "GO!" Get to the Dirty Jerz, do how I do at this interview, and let the situation play itself out. All I can do is trust that one day, it'll all make sense.

And just like Jew No. 1, I'm down with that. Word to Old Abe. Knew what was good 6,000 years ahead of the game. He did how he do. I can only keep trying.

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Continuing Creation (B'reishit)

You know what's awesome? Food. Tonight, make sure you enjoy your last meal for a day. You know what else is awesome? Jumping the gun. Sweet Tea was so hype for our relaunch that he beat B'reishit to The Watering Hole by two weeks. Here's his Yom Kippur-themed D'var:

Ahh, creation. Never do I feel as accomplished as when I’m able to stand before something I’ve built out of nothing into something … remarkable. Actually, I’ve had a lot of moments these past few weeks: My father and I have been finishing the inside of our barn, putting up ceiling and insulation and such. Each day we walk away from it, a little bit more gets done, and it adds fiber to my life.

So if that’s how I feel doing some simple insulation, I can’t imagine how a human being would feel after creating the earth. I’ve been told by Rabbis that G-d’s capacity to handle emotion is much greater than ours, so He’d probably be able to handle it better than I (although I challenge anybody to feel more strongly about Carolina basketball than I do).

But through all the hammering and cutting, one word stuck to me like Gorilla Glue: commitment. In some things in the everyday, one doesn’t need to be committed. Great, so you caught the football game on Sunday. You could miss it the next week, and it would still go on, and you would still care as much about it as you did before. But in order for other things to happen, like building a barn, you can’t half-ass it. Or you spend two hours looking at a bunch of wood.

As I read the portion online this week (is nothing sacred?!), there is a sensitive deliberateness in the creation of Adam that illustrates this facet of commitment. It is written ... ahem …, “Ad-noy El-him then formed the man, dust from the ground, and He blew into his nostrils the breath of life. And so man became a living soul.” What I like so much about this, is that Adam as an entity existed before he was alive. He was formed out of dust, but not alive until G-d literally breathed life into him. This wasn’t a simple act, but a two-parter: He had to build him and then bring him to life.

Whether you are or are not a Believer, this falls outside of that debate. The point being that in order to build the amazing things that you will in life, you can’t idly create them; you have to build on top of the foundation.

Now, there are many tomes written about the meaning of dust and air, but I want to connect to something else. For us as the new working order, we came from college - where often we would take classes that didn’t demand too much from us or hold positions that didn’t require much either. After graduation, most of us took entry-level jobs that didn’t challenge us much either. And that’s where most of us find ourselves right now - treading water, doing tasks most high school students could probably handle. What’s next?

Well, I was recently given this fantastic book by a friend, and it didn’t change my perception about this part of my life, but rather reinforced it. At first take, it appears to be a book about how some sob-story, middle-class kids couldn’t find their calling in college, and decided that instead of joining the real world, they would go on a road trip interviewing "success stories." The book pretty much becomes a collection of interviews, including the Founder of Dell, a shoe designer for Michael Jordan at Nike, the director of Boiler Room.

But regardless of the motives of the guys behind the Roadtrip adventure, it’s impossible not to be captivated by the stories of the people they interviewed. Many of them had no direct path, but they found something they enjoyed, and stayed committed to it, even on the brink of poverty, failure, and family pressure.

I think this story in the Torah is one of the most delicate and inspirational, especially during Yom Kippur. At what other time do we really sit back and muddle over our lives? Do we even do it during the holiday? It’s tough for sure. It takes enough just to wake up, get through the day, and then have enough energy for our friends after.

I do believe that most of us strive to build our own "Adams," our contribution to the notion of creation. But how many of us are really breathing like into our lives, and how many of us are just building hollow shells that have the appearance of livelihood, but no soul. It’s easy to check. Just ask a Magic 8-ball.

Pretty soon, some of us are going to wake up on a Saturday, and think, “Wow, I’m 40. Did I enjoy how I spent the past 20 years?” Well if you spent it having casual sex, then probably. For the rest of you poor married souls, pretty soon making tough choices like pursuing what we really want to do, and having the ability to follow it up with the commitment it will need to flourish will become even tougher.

Happy Holidays! If you are fasting, hope it’s easy. If not, Hooter’s has boneless chicken wings for $7.95.

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Great - And Not-so-Great - Decisions (Sh'lah L'kha)

I’m sitting in a Bank of America, waiting for a specialized banking assistant (how mighty are the names we give ourselves these days), when I get a text message from a friend:

I’m officially a homeowner. Bid accepted.

G-d damn, a homeowner? I still live at with my parents. A kid nearby wanders over, and grabs my pants leg. Hello, there. I used to be your age once.

It’s now two years since college graduation, and partaking in a Jewish tradition, I moved back to my parents’ house. Just for two months, I promise. I have three weddings this summer, plus the one this past spring; we’re getting married left and right. They say graduation is the big leap, but I disagree. We just move into temporary jobs or positions: graduate school, consultant work (whatever that means), English teaching positions in foreign countries. The big leaps are happening now: house purchasing or building, buying cars, making job decisions that affect career paths, and - oh, yes - the marriages. Those are big decisions, but those aren’t the biggest ones facing us right now.

This week’s Parsha is all about big decisions. The Israelites come to Canaan, scout it and report that it is inhabited by giants who live in fortified villages. The Israelites suffer a moment of weakness (Giants in fortresses. I mean if G-d told me I could beat MJ one-on-one, I’d give him a look) lose faith in themselves, and opt not to fight, despite the fact that God has told them they will win. All because of some big giants.

For people like us, we’re the Hebrews of that age: staring in the face of these big decisions. It’s funny then that we spend most of our time staring at either a computer or a TV screen. It’s 48 inches, and you can count the pores on Jessica Alba’s face in Sin City. Totally worth it.

A good part of our lives is eaten up in the commute, precious hours devoured in the office, and we arrive home too exhausted to do anything other than slum it on the couch. We’re too occupied with the day-to-day to pay attention to even the week-to-week. Except weddings, I have those planned out … and the bachelor parties.

It’s not that there aren’t big things on our radars. We do pick up the occasional magazine displaying ways to put our pension in good shape for when we retire. G-d, that seems far away. Some we take care of, some we don’t. Some changes we make in our daily lives make us feel like we are wielding great control over it. Not only are these tomatoes organic, but grown locally. But the biggest decisions are the ones that we don’t even get a chance to really consider. Like, are we spending enough time with our friends? Do we get to get away enough?

Recently, I went on a trip to Italy with my brother (younger) and sister (older). I went despite worries about my ability to afford it (nope) and the time it would take (can’t afford that either), because my mother insisted that we three wouldn’t ever be able to do this again. And while we got along with varying degrees of success (Colin, I swear if you drag us to another museum, I will pour this wonderful bottle of Chianti on your white pants), I’m glad I went, because, my mom (gasp! Is he really saying it?) was right - who knows if I’ll be ever again be able to take off 10 days straight at the same time as my brother and sister. Those moments are ones we sacrifice like little lambs, in the hopes of putting ourselves in a better position 20 years down the road.

I think we know our big decisions. I think we know when we’re not making the extra effort to remain connected to our own self. It’s like a big giant staring us in the face. We know what will make us happy, but we fear the consequences, despite how good it feels to spend the weekend with a good friend, or to take off an evening to catch up with a good book. And unlike the giants that Israelites will eventually beat 40 years down the road (G-d’s punishment to the Israelites for not believing in him), our giants will continue to come back, again and again, and it will be our job to slay them then as we hopefully will do now.

This food tastes like “B'haalot'kha”

“Have you ever went over a friends house to eat
And the food just ain't no good?
I mean the macaroni's soggy, the peas are mushed,
And the chicken tastes like wood.”

--Sugarhill Gang, Rapper’s Delight

We’ve all been there. In a situation when we’re trying to do the right thing, but no matter how hard we try, obstacles arise like soggy macaroni or Robert Horry hip-checking your team's best player into the ground.

In the song above, Imp the Dimp was faced with gross food, but he didn’t want to say something rude and hurt his friend’s feelings. So instead, he fakes that he’s sick. But it doesn’t work and Imp gets called out, putting his friendship in jeopardy.

Amare Stoudemire rushes from the bench to help his friend get up from the ground - a completely natural reaction - and he gets a one game suspension, costing the Suns the series.

Apparently, doing the right thing is not always so easy.

How many times have I heard this over the years?

How do you think Moses felt?

Talk to a bush!

Turn water into wine!

Free your people!

Part the sea!

Climb a mountain!

All while having people believe he is not super crazy.

In the previews for Evan Almighty, Steve Carell is asked to build an ark by God himself, or Morgan Freeman. Everyone thinks he’s nuts. So listening to a talking bush? Not the easiest thing to do, as is choosing whether to leave college early to play sports professionally in order to help one's poor family make ends meet, or staying in school to get an education?

Another cliché straight from my father’s mouth reminds us that two wrongs do not make a right.

In this week’s reading from the Torah, B'haalot'kha (gezundheit!), things get even more complicated. Surprised? No, it’s a Jewish document.

Early in the Parsha, Moses is explaining the laws and decrees for the Pesach (today’s Passover holiday) offering. (Num. 9:1-14) One of the conditions of making the sacrifice is that anyone who had been in contact with a corpse could not make the sacrifice. (Lev. 7:20-21)

Seems pretty cut and dry, until a few of the Hebrews approach Moses to let him know this isn’t fair, or right. The fellers in question came in contact with a corpse only through doing a good deed or mitzvah. (Num. 9:6-7)

They were essentially doing the right thing, but later having it only come back to hurt them.

This is a situation that happens all the time. As a former fraternity president I have first-hand experience. For example, after announcing a new attendance policy, it did not take more than a second for my brothers to come up to me and let me know why this should not apply to them. Sometimes there were good arguments, and sometimes having to go to your girlfriend’s to “help her study” during meeting time just didn’t cut it.

The decision on who deserved a reprieve after being wronged by the new rules had to be made. Not an easy thing to do, especially having to balance so many people’s concerns.

Back to Moses.

Moses is hit with this moral dilemma, and what does he do? Well he was a prophet, so just like Commissioner Gordon, Moses whips out his prophet phone, dials 613 and gets God on the line. Going something like this:

“Yo, God!”

SUP BOI?

“This Moses.”

I KNOW, MAN, I AM THE ALL-KNOWING.

“Right. So I got these Heebs here. They feel that since they were doing a good deed when they came in contact with the dead, that they should still be able to rock the Pesach offering. Thoughts?”

IT’S ALL GOOD MY MAN. LET THEM KNOW THEY CAN PREFORM A SECOND OFFERING AT A LATER DATE. NOW I GOT TO GO, BRITNEY SPEARS IS ABOUT TO SHAVE HER HEAD AGAIN 3,000 YEARS AWAY, AND I CAN’T TAKE THE GLARE.

-Click-

For Moses, it was that easy. I wish I had a phone with a line straight to the all-knowing to sort things out. But since I don’t, I have the Torah to both confuse me and offer me insight.

In this instance, the wronged are righted by having a separate ceremony. Moses did a good job by looking into the rule book to see if there were any loopholes.

However, sometimes doing the right thing does lead to a future wrong instead of another right, like speeding to get your pregnant wife to the hospital as she is going into labor, but still getting a ticket. The cop doesn’t care why you’re speeding, he's just doing his job.

The nice thing is that we have a kind and just God to figure these things out.

Ultimately, you have to live with your consequences, even if you are doing what you think is right.

In "Rapper’s Delight," Imp the Dimp, trying to do the right thing, chose to fake sick rather than just say that the food was bad.

In a similar fashion, after a fair amount of wandering (remember, the name of the book means “In the Desert”), the Hebrews begin to complain that the “manna tastes like wood” and there is no meat to eat when there was plenty in Egypt. Then, Miriam complains to Aaron that Moses, as the highest prophet around, has been neglecting some of his other duties, specifically his marital ones, in working to remain pure all the time. A seemingly fair complaint - he is the man with the great wooden staff; shouldn’t his wife get to enjoy that?

Well, complaints and slander did not sit well with The Commissioner. The Heebs are flooded with meat and those that eat it are punished, while Miriam gets leprosy and has to leave camp, embarrassed, for seven days. Aaron gets off the hook by immediately apologizing, while Moses tries to make amends all around. Again, not an easy thing to do - have you ever tried mediating an argument between your mom and your sister?

So the end of the weekly reading leaves us with hives, gluttony, wrath, and one very important lesson:

If you ever go over to your friend’s house to eat and the food just ain’t no good, you should probably just eat it. Be thankful for the food that is on your plate. Thank your friend for his hospitality. And stop at Wendy’s on the way home.