Boulder in a Day

Today was a good -- nay! -- great day for me on so many accounts. It helps that I spent the entirety of my time in Boulder celebrating all things Jewish with some of my best friends, but there's also more to plop on top of that.

Earlier last week, I was notified that -- sof sof -- my little carmine red Yaris was finally put in my name, and my name alone. After getting home tonight and checking my mail, I found in my little metal box my certificate of get -- or divorce -- from the beth din out in Jersey that sealed everything. So, as of today, I'm completely and utterly on my own! Baruch HaShem.

So back to today -- the Boulder Jewish Festival. Food, ambiance, friends, music, and sunshine as far as my eyes could see. I got the best hugs, had some inspiring conversations, and am ready to take on the world. I'm constantly reminded of why Boulder feels like home to me, and it's about time I found a way to make that happen.

Here's a mere sampling of my day ... look how bright and beautiful it is!

Devon gets his Brian Williams on. 

Sweet! Buff Gear!

I put on tefillin today!

Mama Doni made an appearance, too.

Nom nom nom pickles. 

The motto of Aish Kodesh, my favorite congregation -- seriously, we don't bite. 

The Goodes and @MelSchol!

Soul Food with Aish Kodesh.

The after party -- completely with margaritas!

Find more photos on Facebook!

A Hazon Food Summit Recap

I had the pleasure of spending 8 a.m.-5 p.m. today up in Boulder at the first Hazon Rocky Mountain Food Summit, which was, in a word, stellar. I attended three panels -- Eco-Ethical Meat, Kashrut and You; Caffeinate Your Conscience; and The Jew and the Eatery: Jewish Restaurateurs of Denver and Boulder -- as well as a workshop on how to make infused vinegar (I'm so stoked to do this, by the way).

A graphic artist recorded what "Food Is ..."

Some things I picked up on are ... (and all the photos are here, FYI)

The only way the kosher meat/chicken market will succeed with ethical practices, the highest-quality meat, and proper schechting (ritual slaughter) is if we scale back. Tradition, tradition! The industrial revolution gave us the power of quantity and speed, but with that came the unethical treatment of animals and schechting that goes so fast that oftentimes it's not even really kosher. Success, ethics, and halakah will come when we return to the classic manner of society where you know the farmer who raises the animals, you know how the farmer raises the animals, you know your butcher, and you know that your butcher knows what he's doing. Here in Colorado, there are a few chicken/goat co-ops where you can buy a chicken or part of an animal, see it schechted, and take it from farm to table. Back to basics, folks.

I also learned quite a bit about what Fair Trade really means, how it works, and how it fails farmers. The thing about Fair Trade is that the contract is great for farmers when the market is average and/or below average. It guarantees that the farmer will have a livable wage, no matter what the economy does. But when the coffee market is good -- like now -- farmers don't see anymore cash in their pockets because of the Fair Trade contract. So it's good to buy Fair Trade, but it's not always the most cost-efficient for actual farmers. Also, discovered that it takes more than 80 beans to make a doubleshot of espresso, so think about that person picking those beans the next time you order your latte and how much work they put in (picking all those beans by hand, of course).

The four Jewish dudes.

And then there's the fact that there's an undercurrent of awesome, outstanding, passionate Jewish dudes running some of the most popular restaurants in Denver and Boulder. (Of course, none of them are kosher or vegetarian ...) Four Jewish fellas who run restaurants that focus on locally grown produce, ethically sourced meat, and conscious efforts to recycle, compost, and more. Also? One of the restaurant owners, Josh Wolkon, even created multiple separate menus for various allergies. Talk about smart. And I got to meet Etai Baron of Udi's Gluten Free, and I got to tell him how happy and thankful I am for his biz. I also managed to maybe convince the awesome restauranteurs to consider a kosher food truck for Boulder/Denver. If that is one of the amazing things to come out of the Hazon food conference, then I'd say it was successful.

I made a lot of really great connections, and I spent some time getting to know some folks from the Boulder community.

And, I'm very seriously considering moving to Boulder. The religious community there is more my speed, the people and lifestyle seem be more my speed, and, well, there's just something about Boulder that sings to me. More than Denver. So we'll see about that. My lease isn't up until October, but I'm planning.

Don't worry, I'll still work in Denver.

And then? Amelia and I walked around the Pearl Street Mall where there were the most amazing, tall, colorful tulips. I couldn't help but take five million photos.

Until next time ...

Brightening Up in Boulder

For me, Boulder is where it's at. Spiritually, with comfort, with kindness.

I spent another Shabbat there, and I was once again reminded why it feels so comfortable in that community. When you're sitting around a third-meal table singing niggunim and all of the voices -- no matter how few -- seem to match up like a well-trained chorus, when you feel comfortable moving from learning in the sanctuary to the kitchen for a cup of coffee, when children take you to you in seconds giggling with you, when you feel at home ... that's Boulder for me. It was what I needed in this moment of my life where "change" seems to be the only constant.

The learning aspect of being in Boulder is something that I love. When I'm alone in Denver, I don't know what shabbat is supposed to be.

Item 1: The parshah on Shabbat was Shemini and it contained the midpoint of the Torah as measured in words when Moshe considers offerings. Those words that fall on either side of the midpoint are דרש דרש, darosh darash. The doubling of words in Hebrew often implies an intensity of the basic word, so in this case it suggests intensive inquiry, an intense searching. That's Judaism in a nutshell, folks.

Item 2: We discussed Nadav and Avihu and the prohibition of certain actions while intoxicated. The conclusion that we arrived at was that they weren't literally drunk, but perhaps drunk on HaShem. They were so up in the clouds that this world didn't make sense to them. They were, in a way, too high up for this world. It's how I feel sometimes, like I can't connect to this world. I don't, however, want to be the next Nadav or Avihu ... but there are some minds that aren't long for this world because they can't connect on the appropriate level to people, they can't figure out relationships. The lesson: figure out how to live in this world, figure out relationships, figure out how to bring ourselves down to this world. We live here, we don't live in shamayim.

I feel like I walked away from my Shabbat in Boulder with a more vivid view of my neshama. I feel like the flame is brighter, and that I'm moving forward. Small steps, Chavi. Small steps.

And of coure, in addition to just feel at home in Boulder, there's the fact that the Pearl Street Mall is a lot like Ben Yehuda ... especially after Shabbat. Don't believe me?

This was Friday before Shabbat. I roamed the mall ...

This guy was bananas. Muscles like crazy. 

Ben Yehuda has break dancing, Boulder has Improv Yoga. 

Limmud Colorado: Dueling Rabbis!

Rabbi Rose, Rabbi Soloway, Rabbi Tirzah Firestone, Rabbi Goldfeder

Well folks, I'm at my first Limmud conference, sitting in my first session (I was helping out this morning with a video blogging session for teens), which many are calling the "Dueling Rabbis." Officially, however, the session is called "Bound, Together." Here's the description:

For the third time at Limmud Colorado, Boulder's Orthodox, Conservative, and Reform rabbis will agree to disagree from a place of deep friendship and respect, as they reflect on the complex question of religious obligation. Rabbi Marc Rose will facilitate a conversation between Rabbi Josh Soloway and Rabbi Gavriel Goldfeder as we explore together the ties that bind us to our ancient wisdom tradition.

So here I am, live blogging some thoughts! Ready? Let's go!

The rabbis were hanging out at Avery Tap House together, and a guy at the bar, looking for a joke about rabbis walking into a bar and lo-and-behold, what showed up was the articles by the three rabbis. 

There has been a lively discussion based on an article that Rabbi Goldfeder (Orthodox) wrote, followed by a response from Rabbi Soloway (Conservative), followed by Rabbi Rose (Reform). The comments online were nasty, so the context for the session herein lies. There is a series of three questions that will be asked and hopefully answered.

• In what ways does the Jewish tradition obligate you to do stuff? And what is the stuff you feel obligated to do?

Rabbi Rose: Grew up in the Reform movement, and I need to start with saying that there's dissonance between my own practice and my own beliefs and those of the Reform movement. ... But I want to amplify what Marc said ... I am not representing the Reform movement. I grew up in an era, as many of us did, in which autonomy, personal autonomy, was a very deep and significant aspect of Jewish life. I grew up with a deep sense that I had an obligation to the Jewish people, but in the broadest sense. ... My entire religious journey as an adult has been trying to understand what is this very deep sense of obligation and compulsion that I now feel to observe mitzvot. ... 

When it comes to the question to whom or to what am I obligated ...  I am not a person who believes in Torah m'Sinai in the most literal sense. I believe that Torah was constructed by human beings over time. Once you affirm your belief in that, you have to ask yourself, Why am I obligated more to the mitzvahs in the Torah than to say in the Odyssey?

I have a belief that my life has a purpose. My religious journey is understanding what that purpose is. ... I have this deep sense of obligation not only to Jewish history and to the Jewish people, but to some deep point within me -- and what that point is we'll talk about later -- that needs to know what it is and to come to a point of self understanding. Because I believe that w/o a deep hunger to know what my life is about and to know why I am here, there is no way for my life to move in a direction. 

Rabbi Goldfeder: We're all here because, I believe, we're all interesting in learning and hearing perspectives that we wouldn't normally hear. I'm going to guess that my experience and perspective is different than most of the people in this room ... You can use me as a way to understand and filter what you're hearing in the news today. ... I don't think of myself as a standard Orthodox rabbi. 

(Grew up Reform, spent his Junior year of college abroad, telling story about Tzfat and worrying about losing his personality in the mix of becoming religious.)

At that point, I was no longer at the center of my universe. It became true to me that I was no longer the arbiter of what I was going to do in many situations. ... I don't wake up and say, Am I going to daven today? I don't envy those people. 

Rabbi Soloway: I think what I struggle with is the relationship as to what Torah is and what the rabbis think it should be. I feel like the Talmud is a very powerfully rich volume of work that inspires me spiritually and definitely gives me more of an understanding of what my obligation is, but I don't feel that the rabbis of the Talmud are direct descendants of Moses on Sinai. ... I don't believe in Torah m'Sinai. ... I think we are still working out what the details of that covenantal relationship are. 

I feel that part of my obligation is to have serious concern for the environment ... Keeping Shabbat and keeping lights on for 25 hours becomes increasingly problematic for me. What is my obligation in that? I think more than anything else when it comes to the concept of being a mensch, it is about awareness. 

• What about the obligation on other people in our lives? How do we engage in relationships with other Jews who do not feel obligated in the same way that we feel obligated? 

Rabbi G: I wrote an article for the Boulder Jewish News that left to a conflagration of sorts and what was interesting to me was that many people took it very personally. "You're judging me," is what I got. 

If a woman comes to me and says, "I want to be a rabbi," I say, Amazing. You want to be more involved? More connected to your Yiddishkeit? That's amazing. That's so wonderful. I don't judge anyone. ... I feel a genuine sense that this is amazing. A sense of pride and joy. 

Because when I speak of obligation, I am not referring to observance. I'm referring to growth and literacy. I believe that every one of us is obligated to be growing and becoming more literate. So when a person says I'm done, I'm finished, I know everything that I need to know, that offends me more than if a person says, I've decided to give up pork and I'm only eating lobster now. ...

If you haven't gotten literate about it, then it's like your opinion to me seems so diminished in my own eyes. We're not having a conversation about what's there, but about something you thought about 20 years ago and then forgot about. We're so informed about things in our life ... why not our Yiddishkeit? ...

I think what's preventing people from practicing literacy is rabbis like me. ... If you write a polemic in the Boulder Jewish News laying out points without access it doesn't work. I see myself, more than anyone else, being one of the -- in terms of Torah -- ten most literate Jews in Boulder. ...

Rabbi R: For me, Torah has an existential claim on me. What I mean by that is that I don't start with the assumption that okay, here's halachah and that's binding ... and therefore I'd be crazy not to follow the path. It's not that, it's more existential. I have this very deep need to understand who I am and what I am. 

How do you embody a life where your consciousness is not at the center of the picture, where your life is not what the world is spinning around? ... I can't get to the point of saying to someone, You have to keep kosher! But I do feel like it's my obligation to guide people down the path. Halacha is an expression of walking down a path.

Rabbi G: So, if a Jew walked up to you and said, I'm going to join an Ashram next week ...

Rabbi R: I would do everything in my power to say, Why join an Ashram? I would do everything in my power to keep them on a Jewish path. ... I'm going to do everything to say that there is a truth here, that you were born into [Judaism].

Rabbi S: I have had, like many people in this room, profound other spiritual traditions. Sometimes there's an attempt to make them Jewish, when I'm really happy to just have different experiences. ... Part of my obligation is to be in relationship with people of other spiritual paths and practices. ... Part of my obligation is to listen to people and hear their stories. ...

Heschel talks about radical amazement ... and he also talks about religious behaviorism. When we no longer feel amazed by our tradition, we have the capacity to close our hearts and stop listening to each other. 

Rabbi G: What is more idolatrist: halachah as idol or vehement ignorance of halachah?

Rabbi R: Must there be a choice? Both are things to be avoided. 

Rabbi G: I think that ego as arbiter is a bigger idol, although there is potential damages in each of them. 

And now? Q&A. I'll cut it off here ... interesting stuff, yes? Thoughts? 

Was I Born for Boulder?

Oh Colorado! You with your sloping valleys and winding mountain roads, your heavy snowfall and sunny days melting it all away. Your coffee shops and head shops, your dispensaries and book stores. How I love you, let me count the ways!

There's something about Colorado that has made me feel better, happier, healthier, wiser. It's like breathing has become easier and my skin doesn't feel so tight around my bones. Even in the thinnest of mountain air, while watching deer rest under pine tree branches, I feel like I'm not breathing borrowed air, stale air, boxed-up and packaged-in air.

At times, I'm almost more cognizant of my Jewish self than I was before. With that said, there's still this void, and I feel it most during Shabbos. When I first came to Colorado I took up with the rest of the crowd in my community and ended up at DAT Minyan, and I visited BMH-BJ a few times as well. At first it was comfortable, and then it wasn't. I can't explain it, but the longer I'm here the longer I long for the Orthodox community I knew back in Chicago or West Hartford. There's something about those communities and their mixed multitudes (the good kind) that made Judaism seem so much more varied, diverse, exploratory, confusing, beautiful, bright, growing.

So, at the invitation of Rabbi Goldfeder and his wife up in Boulder (if you recall, I wrote about his book recently, and if you haven't purchased it and you're married, then I insist that you procure it post-haste), I spent this past Shabbos with their family and the community. I had been invited up before but some work drama and family drama and life drama kept me from visiting, so I was elated to make the trip this time around.

I arrived within minutes of candle lighting thanks to a turn-around on the way, but I got there, zipped to my humble abode and got ready for Shabbos. I stuck around with the kids (three, beautiful, awesome, intelligent, hilarious, loving kids, by the way) and the rabbi's wife Ketriellah for the evening and got to know the family a bit, and then a big group arrived and the Shabbos table was full for the evening. The variety and diversity of people -- Israelis, former Israelis, locals and their families -- made for an interesting conversation and a great meal that was, by the way, GLUTEN FREE! Yes, everything (save the challah the rabbi made) was deliciously gluten-free. I was instantly sold on moving in. I wonder if they'll have me?

Saturday morning I woke up incredibly late and schlepped off to shul, which is sort of in half of a home that has been converted, and the sanctuary is just downright cozy. The moment I stepped out of the rabbi's house, I was greeted by a gray sky and snowy mountains in the not-so-distant distance. Can you imagine waking up every day and seeing the mountains right there?

At the shul, the mechitzah hangs curtain-style from the ceiling with beautiful silver ringlet chains, there are brightly colored carpets and artwork, comfy chairs, seforim everywhere, and even a nifty little container with all of the spices and incense used at the Temple. Very, very great atmosphere. And when I walked in, the group was waiting for a few more men for minyan for the Torah reading, so there was sort of a group-study going on, which actually, honestly, I thought was pretty amazing. Walking through the Torah and hearing feedback and comments from the group of men and women is sort of how I picture a group of Jews spending their Saturday morning.

Thinking. Talking. Asking. Exploring. All orbiting the weekly parshah.

We davened Mussaf, and then the room was cleared and everyone helped set up for kiddush, which, by the way, was pretty much all gluten-free friendly! (Did I mention I was in heaven?) We walked home to a warm meal, some reading time (and I got a neck massage from one of the Goldfeder daughters -- she's a pro at the ripe age of six, seriously), and then preparation for the third meal.

And in the midst of it all, it began snowing.

The third meal was filled with the sound of Hebrew (many Israelis were there) and children running amok in the basement. We talked about what it means to be a chosen people, among other things, and I felt like my Shabbos was complete. The sky darkened and all of the kids and guests gathered for havdallah, and then the rabbi busted out his guitar for some Shavua Tov-ing song-style.

I know I only spent about 25 hours in Boulder within the small Jewish community there, but I feel like the aura of the community, the people, the place ... there's something about it. I know so many people who would fit in so perfectly with Rabbi Goldfeder and the intelligent curiosity and belief that is ever-present there. It's something I haven't felt in a long time. And those of you who have searched near and far for a place where you fit Jewishly understand what that means, what that feeling feels like.

So I had an amazing time. I felt, for the first time in a long time, like my Shabbos meant something, like there was a tangible spark in my soul that I could walk away with and start the new week with.

Perhaps the funniest thing about it all is that the community I was in was an Aish community -- and those of you who have read me a long time know about my history with Aish. But there's something about this Aish rabbi and community that has something bigger to offer than is being expressed and understood in the greater Colorado community. (Check out the Boulder Aish Kodesh site here.)

If only I lived in Boulder, eh?

Also: If you want to see the beautiful hamsa that marks the gate for the shul, just Google Map and Street View 1805 Balsam Avenue, Boulder, Colorado!


EDIT/NOTE: So it turns out that Boulder Aish Kodesh is not tied to the large organization Aish HaTorah! Well that explains a lot.