bad blogger, bad.

uh, first of all, no comments makes me sad. : ( (sad emoticon)

secondly, I thought it would be responsible blogging to report that the aforementioned romantic relationship was disbanded 2 weeks ago. So stop sending flowers and willow-branch wreaths. {I'm okay, don't worry-- getting yer tuchas into the Sukkah does wonders for the soul}

thirdly, not to tear down the walls of this little microcosm here at wanderingstu.com, but I am leaving HUC on a [temporary] leave. I am going back to Bat Ayin [temporarily] to learn Torah and explore the possibility of getting Rabbinic Ordination (smicha) there instead.

Read the last post for some explanatory information.

This week in stunews: Esta survived the hurricane with no damage, having held up a glass door for an hour. And Elijah Gazman just turned 7-- Mazal Tov!!

Have a great week!! No more hurricanes, okay??!

and the moment of truth approaches

Wow, friends, my first complete High Holiday Cycle-- what a ride! From Slichot before Rosh Hashanah, to a week of shaking the Lulav, and finally a wild Simchat Torah all day today and last night. It's really amazing how deep this stuff can be, and how joyous these Jews are when in the thick of it. (Forgive me for not writing much and forgive me for not explaining all those weird Hebrew words up there-- it's late, I gotta sleep, I been busy, I'm lazy, etc...)

What happens, wanderingstu.com fans, when you come back to the place where you once truly felt at home, and you realize that you are home-- not like home in Israel, never to return, but home in terms of lifestyle, community, spirit in the air-- home in the existential sense? What happens when you remember what quickened your soul the most in this world, and then wake up to the incompatability of this realization with your current situation??

That's the question of the month (of the year)-- and I'll leave it with you now, vague as it is, and hope for some valuable insights from all y'all (whoever is out there... are you out there??????)

Much love- hoping to see you all soon.

The Awesome Day of Awe- The Day- The Sabbath of Sabbaths

I can't give a full report of Yom Kippur in Bat Ayin, because I have to shower (stinky!) and put the final touches on my sermon for this Shabbat at HUC.

BUT, here's a few brief factoids on this Yom Kippur:

- We were praying in the Beit Midrash (where we learn and pray) from 6:30am until 7:00 this evening.

- Unlike most synagogues, where lots of older folks are there to say Yizkor, the whole room cleaned out- only 5 out of maybe 30 guys had lost parents. Heavy.

- In the feverish last moments before the final shofar blasts, I really broke open the shackles of my heart by seeing the faces of all my loved ones before me, and praying that all of them (all of you, that is) should have an amazing year filled with love, blessing, peace and happiness. I also did a lot of screaming for total healing for all of our afflictions, so may we all be healthy this year.

- We caught a ride back to Jerusalem with a guy who was doing like 80 mph through the West Bank while I sang Guns n' Roses and held onto my kippah for dear life.

- A friend of mine is always talking about how he wants to do a full prostration at Yom Kippur services, but is afraid that the congregation would fire him if he even tried. One time a few years ago, Esta and I saw the hazzan (cantor) do the full prostration before the ark at a service at the Woodlands Country Club in Tamarac. These two guys stood beside him and helped him up, kinda like a James Brown routine.

This year, both at Bat Ayin and for Rosh Hashanah in Jerusalem, we ALL did it-- towels, napkins, rugs on the floor, and down we go, all splayed out before the Lord, Praise His Name!! Good stuff. I took the opportunity to pop in some yoga and held child's pose for a while to give my aching body a rest after about 8 hours of prayer....
________
That's all for now. Some bookmarks. Please remind me, someone, to dicuss:
...Tramping
...Bat Ayin (with photos)
...Our new Jerusalem minyan
...that's all i can remember (other topics 0f interest)

I'm on vacation!! Hope you're having fun too.....

My Name is Nachman, and I Don't Stutter

Her name is Tamuz. There, I said it. She was born in the US, but is an Israeli. She sings. She is adorable. She did better than me on the S.A.T. When I revealed her existence (or at least her connection to me), Esta asked 2 questions. The first one was brilliant:

Is she Jewish?

Then Mom gave me some very sweet advice: Keep it Light. {insert cacophony of guffaws here}
Well, beloved friends, any of you who have spent any time here at wanderingstu HQ know that it ain't so easy for this stu to "Keep it Light." But I try....

For example- on Sunday we are going shopping at the mall and to see a bad American movie. How's that for light?? I'm hoping to find an Orange Julius.

But this is the point:
Walking Tamuz home tonite after the Opera (!!!), we were stopped three times by people in cars asking how to get to the Kotel (the Western Wall). Of course, we were on the opposite side of town, but folks enter Jerusalem, make the wrong turn, and end up down by us. No sweat. Small city, easy drive. The first two requests were little hatchbacks filled with secular Sefardi guys in their early 20s. The final request was from a bunch of religious guys.

After saying goodnite to Tamuz, I returned via the same route, along a wooded path overlooking an old old monastery, the Kenesset building and the Israel Museum (home of the Dead Sea Scrolls). When I hit the big intersection, I was summoned again to give directions. This time to the Liberty Bell Park. And this time, it was a bunch of secularish Sefardi kids, all wearing giant kippot, and two of them specifically with Na-Nach-Nachma-Nachman MeUman Kippot.

These Sefardi kids love to wear these Nachman kippot, and sing Breslover songs, and act like Chasids. It's crazy. Tamuz and I met a pack of them on a school trip in Nachlaot (my Holy Neighborhood). All the guys had the Nachman Kippah. And they love to speak with the heavy Ashkenazi accent-- "You are Breslev?"

But I miss the best part-- this car full of Sefardi pseudo-Breslover kids was driven by a Sefardi pseudo-Brelover MIDGET!!!!!!!!!! And that dude was the leader of the gang. Hot stuff, kids-- only in Jerusalem.

By the way, the whole Na-Nach thing started many years ago when Rabbi Israel Ber Odesser didn't fast properly on the Fast of Tamuz. Feast or famine, baby.

A Gmar Chatimah Tovah to all of you-- which means-- May you be inscribed in the Book of Life for Blessing, Happiness, Length of Days and Health.

I wish you all a profound and meaningful fast.

Smooth Criminals

A very special friend of mine wanted to go dancing last week. I admonished her, suggesting that a dance party was not appropriate to these Yamim Noraim- Days of Awe and Judgment. She went anyway, God bless her beautiful soul. That night, in that Jerusalem "coincidence" kind of way, I met a close pal of hers. He suggested that dancing during the Yamim is perfectly appropriate, if one is "dancing for redemption." What better, he asked?? And since he was cute and went to Yeshiva of Flatbush and comes with the Seal of Approval of the aforementioned very special friend of mine, I took it to heart. And told her so. And I think she was glad-- since it's Tati who judges, not wanderingstu, right? She got some dancing in that night, and she deserves a lot more, and I owe her a bit of dancing myself.

[Tati-- Abba, Avinu Malkeinu, HaKadosh Baruch Hu, Hashem, God, the Good Lord--- Tati is really the best name yet that I've found for Him. Although it does force and occasional male pronoun, which is not desired...]

Dance your souls to redemption, beautiful friends. But, contrary to the great R&B track (which I was singing two weeks ago in the streets of Tel Aviv)-- I do see something wrong with a little bump n' grind. I mean, drunkenly humping your neighbor (or a stranger) in un-awareness of the awesomeness of these Days probably doesn't exercise the soul and give drink to the thirsty spirit. Feels nice on the uglies and the ego, though.

But dance-- in a field, in your room, in the shul, in the street, Lawdy, Lawdy!

In honor of a girl named after a month named after a pagan deity, and in honor of the pain and joy and scariness and ultimate glory that is life, love, Jerusalem, the High Holidays and Tati Himself, Avraham Eliezer and I danced our tuchas off last night while listening to a little Michael Jackson. White hats optional.

God willing, our booty-shaking (and yours) will raise the holiness of all Am Yisrael, all the world, and maybe even rub off on poor MJ, who seems to have lost the funk in recent years, after all the beauty (albeit oft with macabre lyrics) he gave us.

Dance friends, dance-- and walk slowly and with open hearts, for the Gates of Judgment are open.

Have a great week. (And write some damn comments).

return, return to Me

Haven't been sleeping much-- too much to talk about, narrow streets to walk, odd people to encounter, soup to eat, nothings to murmur in someone's ear...

Rosh Hashanah/ Yom Kippur-- it ain't about sin, but rather missing the mark. Not fully being the person you are capable of being. None of us ever fill the bill totally-- there is always something that falls short, in our relationships, ways of dealing with our own health, connection to the environment, care for our fellow humans...

Tshuvah means "return," not "repentance." Return to our Maker, return to a state of inner calm and confidence, return to our loved ones, return to our truest selves. Return to holiness.



When Reb Zusia was on his deathbed he said:

In heaven they aren't going to ask me, "Why weren't you more like Abraham?" or "Why weren't you more like Moses?" Of course not. When I get to heaven they will ask me, "Why weren't you more like Zusia?" And for this, I will have no good answer.

Our prayers of Tshuvah are meaningless if we have not sought reconcilation from the people we have hurt. And so please, please, beloved readers... Accept this as my Tshuvah:

If I have hurt or offended you in any way-->
- by neglect
- by obnoxious acts or comments
- with malice
- without malice
- by not controlling my urges and impulses
- by not containing my dark moods
- by ignoring your voice
- by not communicating enough
- by talking too much
- by being judgmental, impatient, curt or scornful
- by being too serious
- by not being serious enough
If I have, in any way, given you less than the total love and respect that you all deserve,

Please forgive me, release me to make Tshuvah with God, and accept my sincerest apologies and wishes for a full reconcilation between us, in love and brotherhood.

And so, Shanah Tovah, a Happy New Year, Chag Sameach, and a Chatimah Tovah-- may you be inscribed for LIFE in the Book of Life.

Have a great Rosh Hashanah

not my baby, by the way

Goodbye brother, hello sister, welcome home to Yerushalayim

Ach, beloved friends (and assorted readers of wanderingstu.com), it's so great to return to the Holy 'Hood of Nachlaot, to walk her streets and really feel home again. Spent an awesome Shabbat with Craig (Dr. B_., that is), in Tzur Hadassah, where his in-laws live. It was a little surreal to be hanging out with the whole family, mom, dad, saba (grandpa), and two siblings, but without Keren "The Favorite" there. I kept looking at them and reminding myself-- "Hey, this is Keren's family!!"

Craig and I spend Thursday night in the desert-- unreal!! More to come on that soon, with photos, I hope.

I have to run and help Rabbi Raz pack up and move his house. And then we are on the short road to Rosh Hashanah. Check back here sometime before Monday night for my big Tshuvah--- I might owe YOU an apology.

So sad to say goodbye to Craig- I love him so much. On the other hand, so sweet to know that, after a long Shabbat, someone out there is excited to see you. May her bus move swiftly across this holy land....