Chabad and a Review of Turning Judaism Outward

It's late after Shabbat and I'm pretty tired, but if I don't write this now, my head will explode and my heart will melt. The intense need to write? I finished reading Turning Judaism Outward today, which is the biography about the seventh Chabad Rebbe Menachem Mendel Schneerson written by friend and colleague Rabbi Chaim Miller (I worked with him on his chumash project several years back).

I was well into the book when I went into synagogue today to discuss this week's parsha (Torah portion) with my women's learning group. Luckily, I'd landed the third aliyah, which was the bit about the people kvetching after Miriam dies because the water dries up, there's a brief mention of her death and burial, followed by Moshe and Aharon approaching HaShem with what to do. HaShem says to go, speak to the rock, and water will pour forth. Moshe doesn't bother asking what to say, but goes forth to the people, calls them a band of rebels, and smacks the rock with his staff. The result of this incident is that Moshe is destined to never enter Eretz Yisrael.

As we talked about the parsha, I realized the significance of being the unwilling leader. Moshe was devastated by the death of his sister Miriam and the peoples' lack of realization that the water was because of Miriam's merit. Frustrated and at his absolute wit's end, he broke. HaShem knew the narrative, HaShem knew that Moshe wouldn't enter the land and needed an "out" in this narrative. It was at this point, where Moshe became truly human that it was possible to build the "exit strategy."

It only made sense to me to tie in the "unwilling leader" to the Rebbe.

I knew it before, but reading Turning Judaism Outward just reinforced the fact that the Rebbe never sought out leadership. Until he set foot in the U.S. and it was evident that his father-in-law (the sixth rebbe) had plans for him, he evaded leadership at every turn. I read this book awaiting the magical explanation for how he ended up in the role of the Rebbe and how the "Rebbe is messiah" movement, but there was never a firm point that either of these aspects of Rabbi Schneerson's life manifested. They were organic.

There are several things I did learn for certain in this book that have provided me with a heightened respect and love for a rabbi I never knew.

• The Rebbe was a savant. He devoured literature and had a complete memory of the Torah, both Talmuds, and gobs of commentary. From childhood through the end of his life, he was able to give hour-long talks without even opening a book. The way that he processed information and relayed it make me wonder if the Rebbe had a touch of Asperger's, actually. As a savant who evaded public life and communal leadership, it would seem that he had these classic social trappings. I also found it frustrating that he was so well versed in the Yerushalmi (Jerusalem Talmud), because so many Chabadniks these days don't bother learning it or teaching it. The Rebbe clearly saw the value in knowing it, quoting it, and discussing it. 
• The Rebbe was an engineering and mathematical genius. The stories that Rabbi Miller relates about his skill with understanding mechanics, machines, military plans, and so much more really blew my mind. I had no idea that he spent years in university getting an engineering degree and applied his skills and talents throughout his life to both relate to experts and to make suggestions to world leaders. 
• Although he never stepped foot in Israel, the Rebbe had a deep love, appreciation, and passion for both Eretz Yisrael (the land of Israel) and Medinat Yisrael (the state of Israel). The amount of political and religious leaders he had deep and emotional ties with, not to mention the amount of times he wrote about the actions of Israeli leadership and the mistake they made show me that he was a man deeply in love with Israel. You also need to read the book to see a few of the moments when the Rebbe predicted something that happened and Israeli military leadership were kicking themselves. His foresight was mind-blowing. 
• The Rebbe very clearly had a vision for Chabad after he died, and that was to look locally, to your local rabbis for guidance and answers. He was creating leaders to lead. He didn't need to name a successor because he believed in the Jewish people to lead themselves. 
• He was a man who loved his wife in a deep and unwavering way that I cannot even begin to fathom. They met daily for a half-hour over tea. That was their moment to connect, reconnect, to be one. Although they never had children (and this is something I wish I knew more about, but it's still not covered in the book -- were there fertility issues? Her sister also had trouble conceiving, but I also know that this is a very, very, very private issue), they were deeply in love. 
• The Rebbe did amazing things for education in America. He truly believed in reaching out to Jews and non-Jews, because he believed that everyone is capable of so much. 
• The Rebbe was horribly frustrated with Chasidim viewing him as the mashiach (messiah). He never condoned it, in fact he spoke against it and the problems it would cause. He was very abrupt and to the point about this. I think it's chaval (not a great translation, but it kind of means "a pity") that he spent the last 10 years of his life battling the mashiachists who tried to peg him as the messiah when it was something he so did not want, condone, or endorse. 

My own personal conclusion after reading this book and experiencing my eyes well up with tears as I spoke to Mr. T about what I was reading have shown me that I so feel for the Rebbe and everything he fought for and fought against in his life. He was a passionate, educated, wise Jewish man who believed in the Jewish people -- religious or not. 

The truth is that had I been alive in the 1960s or 70s and come to Judaism during those eras, chances are good I would have ended up Chabad. Nowadays, with the prevalence of the vision in Chabad as the Rebbe as messiah, I simply can't wrap my head around that. It's not something I'd ever be able to stand by and endorse as part of a collective entity. 

That being said, I understand that not all Chabadniks believe the Rebbe was the messiah, but when there are congregations that give an aliyah to the Rebbe on Shabbat, I just ... it isn't something that's for me. I have, however, written for Chabad.org, worked on many projects with Chabad, and spoken on many panels with my very close Chabad friends. (Is this kind of like saying, "Some of my best friends are Chabad!!! ...?) 

But I view it as dishonoring the Rebbe as opposed to honoring him to perpetuate the mashiach angle. I'd rather stand from the outside and share with the world the beautiful mind and heart and soul of the Rebbe than stand within and perpetuate something he stood so firmly against. 

The Rebbe is a man unlike any the modern world has seen. I compared his unwilling leadership to Moshe, after all. I wish I had been able to meet him, to be a Jew during the period of his life when something so special was happening. When the potential for greatness in the Jewish community was so palpable. 

At this point, all I can do is hope to honor the Rebbe through my own observance, through my own outreach, through my own storytelling. I can only hope he would have been proud of this Jewish woman had he known her. 

Tick, Tock, Tick, Tock

This baby is so cute. I saw her in Dallas, 

and then saw her again in Denver! Oozing cute.

What the what! I haven't blogged in nearly two weeks. What is wrong with me? Where have I been? Where is my mind? Well, fancy you for asking!

The past few weeks have sort of floated by, and because of the nature of them floating, I didn't really notice the time flying so quickly. I'm now sitting in my apartment wondering how on earth I will empty it by Sunday morning when I head to Denver International Airport to head off to New York City where I'll spend Sunday night and then fly off to Eretz Yisrael on Monday evening.

My MacBook Pro was in the shop for two days last week, leaving me largely incommunicado. Then my Sprint service ended, so I was without any form of reaching people on the go. The wifi on my flight to Los Angeles for Shemini Atzeret/Simchat Torah on Sunday to visit my good friends the Lightstones was patchy, so I didn't get a thing done work-wise. By the time I got to Los Angeles, there was a Hoshana Rabbah meal to be had, followed by unpacking and helping out in the kitchen. I showered and before I knew it, it was chag. After two days at a Chabad Yeshiva davening for Shemini Atzeret/Simchat Torah and meeting so many amazing and inspiring people who wished me nothing but hatzlocha in my aliyah, the internet was down at my host's house. Without a cell phone with any semblance of technology, I ended up going web-less for a good 72 hours.

It was horrifying and liberating.

I spent most of today on the plane and when I got back clearing out my inbox, finally doing all of the work that had been put off because of computer problems and web issues. And now? Four emails in my inbox, and only two of those are actually pressing work issues that have to be handled tomorrow. Of course, that doesn't include one major, insane project that I really need to finish by Sunday so my head doesn't explode.

For some reason, it feels like I have to get tons of stuff done before making aliyah. Like I'm moving and then not doing my job anymore, but the truth is that I get to Israel, I sleep, I wake up, I work like normal. Life continues, work continues, everything stays the same -- I'm just in a different time zone (a better time zone, if you will). Oy.

In the past few weeks, I saw friends from Dallas, I saw a friend from back East who now lives in Denver, ate a ton of food, saw my friends from Crown Heights in Los Angeles, had an emotional moment realizing where I was staying in L.A. was right near Pink's (which, for those of you who have known me forever know that was the site of my first date with the great love of my life, Ian, who grew up thinking he was Jewish and then found out he wasn't). Two weeks, so many locations. So much food. So many emotions.

And now I have butterflies in my stomach. The kind of butterflies you get when you're going on a first date. You're excited, and worried, and scared, and eager, and it's a big mush that makes you feel like you have to vomit.

I anticipate a vlog coming up in the next day or so as I officially empty out my apartment on Friday morning when ARC comes by to pick up all of my remaining worldly belongings (which, honestly, is mostly kitchen stuff like plates and silverware and storage containers and cups). The only major thing left I need to sell is my bed. Someone, please buy my year-old bed, please!

Can you sense my anxiety? My excitement? My pure and utter elation and butterflies!? If you can't, you will ... oh you will.

Stay tuned for some highlights of my Los Angeles experience. That is, if I have the time to write about it.

#ChabadLife

Okay, I really really hope the person who created and has been updating this Tumblr continues to do so because, well, this is one of the few things I've come across that has had me laughing out loud. Really, really loud. Bravo!

Here's a screen cap of one of my favorites (except on the actual site, it's all animated gifs!).

A Published Newsie, Again

The first "news" article I ever wrote was way back in college when I worked as a copy editor and copy desk chief at The Daily Nebraskan -- the official newspaper of the University of Nebraska-Lincoln and proud owner of many Student Pulitzer Prizes, not to mention a later deadline than the actual local paper (making it an awesome place to work for breaking news).

You see, I wanted the Arts and Entertainment editor to write up a piece on a Slam Poetry competition in Omaha, but he just didn't have the manpower. "If you want it in the paper, write it yourself," he said. So I did, and I never wrote another. Too much pressure, a chance of being edited, inability to write my own headline.

But my good friend @Mottel pointed someone in my direction and thus comes the second, long-awaited installment in my "news" reporting career, this time for Lubavitch.com.

Read the article here!

And if you really want to read my first "news" story ever published, it's here. 

Note: I wrote a lot of satire pieces for the Daily Halfasskan, which was our April 1 joke issue. For some reason writing fake, hilarious stories carried a lot less pressure than "real" news. 

Updates, Future Dates, and Some Sad Stuff

I hope you all have been enjoying The Tzniut Project -- and from the comments I've been getting on and off the blog, I'd have to say that the preliminary answer to that is yes. On that note, I really want to do a Men's Series on the same topic, with a few added/altered questions. Any volunteers? I'd probably start it up in about two weeks, so we've got time. If you're interested, shoot me an email!

In other news, I've been out and about around the web, and I hope you'll do some reading off-site.

I wrote a piece for Lubavitch.com about my Memories of Joplin, because, well, as you'll read there, I grew up there and everything that's been happening has been insanely emotional and devastating for me. If you click here, you'll see the Google Map of the tornado's path, and if you search for my childhood address (1921 East 33rd Street), you'll see that where I grew up is in the path. So, if you haven't already, please consider donating to the relief fund. The OU has set up a Disaster Fund for Joplin.

I also have a piece up on JDate.com in honor of the soon-to-come One-Year Anniversary of being all married and stuff. The piece is from my perspective, but in case you're new around here and haven't heard the story of how we met, it might be amusing for you. Man, I can't believe it's been almost a year; it feels like just yesterday. We made it!

Stay tuned for some real and meaty posts about the reason I have been MIA aside from The Tzniut Project posts. I'll cheat and tell you where I've been: At an iCenter Fellows meeting in Oak Brook, IL. And as a further teaser, the hotel we're staying in is on Hamburger University Campus (yes, that's McDonald's) and everything here is laden with McDonald's propaganda. I feel dirty.

And sad. I just found a street-map of the skating rink I wrote about in the Lubavitch article. Keeley's. The name was Keeley's. Sigh ... 


Note: I will be in Israel from June 6-23 most likely. Will need some meals and things, and I'll be in Jerusalem for the trip. Wahoooo! Let me know if you'd like me to crash your Shabbos table.

Chabad on the Moon!?

While perusing Etsy.com, as I do sometimes when I'm bored, need to refresh my brain, and don't have a graphic novel laying around, I came across some funny comics up for sale. This one gave me a happy giggle. If you'd like to purchase one, just visit this Etsy Shop! (I also like the Rashi on a date one, tee hee.) After all, we have to be able to laugh at ourselves, right?

Madagascar!!!!

I managed to finish Michael Chabon's "Yiddish Policemen's Union" and it was truly one of the best books I've read -- ever. I've never read anything by Chabon before, though he's famous for a variety of his other books, including "Wonderboys." I'm considering dabbling in other Chabon books, but for now, I'm going to delay myself.

For those not familiar with Chabon, you're really missing out. I'm not going to divulge any details or spoilers about the book, but the idea of a homeland in Alaska for the Jews is completely crazily awesome and no doubt arises from the crazy idea of Hitler and his posse that moving the Jews to the Canary Islands or Madagascar (which plays a part in the book) would be a stellar idea. I truly had no idea that the book was going to end up where it did, but let me tell you, I was shocked and impressed. It is a very, very smartly written book. Plenty of Jewish history, facts, myths and legends in this fictional masterpiece.

But perhaps the best part of the book was the author's incredibly vivid way of expressing a simple thing. His "the teacup of her ear" is just one that caught me. What imagery, nu? Even better? "The black cake of the kid's hat is already dusted with a quarter inch of frosting. Zimbalist gives him the attention you give a tree in a pot" (pg 107). I mean, wow. WOW. Those are the kind of lines and imagery and word play that I *dream* of when sitting down for a poem. The black cake of his hat ... dusted with a quarter inch of frosting. Amid the snow, that image is beautiful.

I have to wonder how the Lubavitch feel about this book. It definitely paints the uber-religious community as laden with underground mob-like activities, not to mention a front of piety that is no more legitimate than a Lance Bass vouching as a straight man. The idea that the devoutly religious would do the things that this book suggests, merely for that which the book expresses, is shocking and probably pretty incensing for the movement.

Either way, this is an ultimately amazing book that is worth your time. At a little over 400 pages, it's probably one of the fastest reads I've experienced. My (non)black hat is off to you, Michael Chabon. Your smartly written book had me hooked, and I only hope the rest of your books are just as brilliant.