Pride, Prejudice, and Carpe Diem!

Last night I became possibly the last person on earth to watch the movie Dead Poet’s Society, and unlike my unduly cynical movie buddy, thought it was just great. The timing also could not have been more perfect, as I have just begun teaching Jane Austen’s classic tale of restrained, civilized affection- Pride and Prejudice.



DP Society starts off with one of those famous movie moments- gathered around some sepia pictures of long dead alumnae of an elite boys high school, a group of students are encouraged to make the little time they have on earth mean something. "Carpe Diem" their teacher whispers, make every moment matter. And throughout the move, Mr. Keatings (Robin Williams) enjoins his students to shirk conventionality, eschew conformity, and “suck the marrow out of life” without a fear of consequences. It’s a powerful message - tempered, to be sure, by a sobering tragedy - but all in all, a convincing testament to the beauty and power of throwing away inhibition and really “living.”


Yet its remarkable how, from a different vantage point, that powerful message can morph into something flimsy and imprudent. Elizabeth Bennet, the heroine of Pride and Prejudice is, of course, a vital, exciting character. Everyone she encounters is struck by her independence of spirit, whether they approve of it or not, and modern readers often point to Lizzie (or really Jane Austen) as a kind of proto-feminist, living the life she wants to live despite societal pressures pointing her elsewhere. These readings are often misdirected however, as Pride and Prejudice really isn’t about saying “to hell with convention, I’m going to be myself!” If anything, P&P is probably one of the most compelling arguments in favor of subdued domestic conformity I’ve encountered. Nowhere does Elizabeth even entertain the possibility that happiness can be found anywhere but in a prudent and satisfying marriage. The only character that would have been at home in the Dead Poets Society is Lydia Bennet, Lizzie’s youngest sister who throws a way any shot she would have at happiness by running away with a dashing but awful fellow named Mr. Wickham. This difference is not only a consequence of P& P emerging from a different time-period. The poets invoked and championed in Dead Poets Society are Romantic poets, living at the exact same time Jane Austen was penning her works. This was, in certain literary circles, an era of unbridled passion, of rejecting inhibition, of beating ones chest and screaming to an unknowable, transcendent God.

But Jane Austen begged to differ. She said, whoa there, calm down folks, passion is great, but unwise if it doesn’t have the appropriate social sanction. We have to live in this world, we have to make peace with its conventions, and frankly, maybe there is even wisdom behind its conventions. Maybe if everyone in society tells you to find a husband, support your family, have good manners etc…then they’re on to something. Pride and Prejudice thus points toward a model of doing those things without losing your soul. It’s a charming, rich and complex book, and in being so, makes the point that even a relatively conventional life can be a charming, rich and complex thing.

It’s an important point I think, because in DP Society when Robin Williams shouts out, “Make your lives EXTRAORDINARY” he sending a very confusing message. What on earth does that mean, really? Broken down to its component parts, what really is the difference between an ordinary and an extraordinary life? (Please answer- it’s a real question). I mean, you want to find something you do well, interact with people, make a little money, leave something for the kinder. What else is there, on a basic building block level? Yes, of course we can all point to people who made a significant dent in the world, but sometimes that’s an accident right? Right place, right time, or they had all the opportunities presented to them. In other words, while its clear that from the outside that an extraordinary life is quite distinguishable from an ordinary one, when you are in the process of living can you really tell the difference?

What Pride and Prejudice reminds us, I think, is that even the most mundane of country villages can have vibrant, multivalent experiences contained within. Elizabeth Bennet did NOTHING, she made fun of silly people around her, married a rich guy, and went off to live in his mansion. But she thought and she felt and she loved, so the book works, it feels exciting. Is it possible that the young men of the DP Society would be satisfied with that level of extraordinary living? I highly doubt it. And a part of me, the part of me that swoons over music and poetry, looks askance upon it as well. But conversely, the notion of “Carpe Diem,” of “seizing the day” as viable alternative to everyday living, is pretty vague. I wouldn’t give up on it entirely, but I think, as a concept, it needs a little more tweaking to really feel significant.

Read More......

On Settling

Every once in a while you read something that you know is going to haunt you, regardless of its quality, or even whether or not its right. I think this article in The Atlantic is that kind of piece. I emailed it to a friend who said she was sorry she read it before having dinner, it made her stomach hurt so much she couldn't eat. I'd be curious to hear what people think.

Read More......

Vampire Weekend in the Heights

Much buzzed about new band, Vampire Weekend, sing "I saw Joanna down in the subway, she took an apartment in Washington Heights" in their song APunk. Check it out on their
MySpace page.

Not important news, really, but I thought it was worth sharing.

Read More......

Putting an End to the Culture Wars, One Blog Post at a Time

Walk into any English department and you'll probably be able to distinguish two distinct groups. One quick way to determine them would be to shout out “Who is the greatest writer in the English language?” Whoever answers the question with a cool William Shakespeare, or even John Milton, is in the first group; whoever responds by disputing the racist, sexist, hegemonist biases of such question, is in the second group. It is the difference between upholding the sanctity of the Western canon, and seriously doubting it; the difference between being comfortable with pronunciations of “greatness” or preferring a more relative, culturally sensitive model. Both groups have shaped and conditioned the way I view literature and culture, to the point where choosing one has always felt impossible.

Well, to be more precise, what’s usually happened has looked more like a game of ping-pong. Sick and tired of one approach, I’ve sought refuge in the other, only to return back once again. In an apathetic high school context, I rallied to defend the “greats” of the Western canon, looking to classic books as a source of all kinds of values. I devoured trashy stuff as well, but I genuinely looked up to my teachers’ notions of the classics and had seemingly infinite patience for plugging away at endless Victorian novels that I now use to balance my bed-frame.

Remaining in traditional Orthodox environments for a bit too long however, this lofty notion of “the classics” began to sour, particularly as I saw Rabbis and YU professors championing a superficial engagement with a smattering of these texts as the height of “Torah U Madda.” In college I also began this infatuation with postmodernism, a one-woman crusade to abolish all mention of universalisms and absolutes within the halls of Stern College. Needless to say, my relativism crusade was not very successful and I decided I would leave Stern in favor of more secular environments where I could simply “be” my relativist, postmodern self. Then I, uh, actually entered those environments, and realized that the postmodernism that existed in my head had very little to do with the culture wars that surrounded me.

Coming from an environment where I felt beleaguered by other people’s notions of what was valuable, I left grad school feeling much more beleaguered by the notion that nothing was valuable at all. Where as in Stern all I wanted was to, like, get lost in the nuances of the world, in Columbia English classes I actually felt lost, in a bad way. I kind of got what contemporary literary studies were all about, but I didn’t get why they mattered. When professors would come into class complaining about the university’s constant humanities budget cuts I would secretly smile- serves you right for spending all this time talking about the performative, intertextual, Barthesian, Lacanian, qualities of who knows what, and not being a nice person to boot. My love for literature never wavered, if anything it grew stronger, but I found myself regressing to a kind of primitive, plain-talking, parochialism- this is a great book, I loved it, period. In a way, I was back to where I started out as a teenage reader, but it was different this time because I didn’t actually think I was right.

My adventures in higher-level literary criticism reinforced for me how many of our conceptions of greatness are culturally conditioned and narrow. Again and again, I realized that if we want to get a fuller picture of any given works we need to broaden our tools of cultural understanding to include all kinds of things-gender, class, economics etc…. But I also realized that I don’t always need to get a fuller picture. I like constructing hierarchies, I like looking for personal meaning, and I like believing in great literature. When I read things written by Harold Bloom or Allan Bloom I think “come on, are they actually being serious?” But I know very well that if I wrote a book I would sound a lot more like them than I would Edward Said or Judith Butler. It’s a strange kind of place to be in I guess. To want to write critical works full of principles and values and personal meaning without really wanting to read them. But I feel like the alternatives, on both ends of the “culture war,” are a lot stranger.

Read More......

The Great UG Heights Political Debate

It’s been ages, I don’t know if anyone even reads this anymore but I’m going to post regardless. A few things have been stirring in my mind relating to the brouhaha surrounding the presidential primaries, and the arduous task of moving my lazy self to register.

In general, I’ve always tried to avoid conversations about politics. I hate saying that because I feel like it is a very “gosh I just leave that kind of talk to the men,” kind of statement, but its true, and partially for wimpy reasons. I really don’t like arguing, and especially in an area where it never feels like anyone is ever going to change his or her opinions even an iota from where they are. Yet when arguing isn’t involved, it can be even worse. Last year I realized that the two communities I was a part of, the liberal Jewish academic circles of Columbia and the UWS, and my staunchly conservative Orthodox hometown of Monsey, NY, were quite possibly the most boring political places in the world. Everyone agreed, the only dissent in Morningside Heights was on the extent to which offensive right-wing groups should be protested against (the protest itself an absolute given,) the only disagreement in Monsey was about whether the Arabs are literally the children of Amalek, or a brand-new form of evil.

For an English teacher these conversations are anathema. They encourage staid and uncreative thinking; they let students who should be challenged off the hook by providing them with catchphrases and party lines upon which they can pin their alliances. I have had great conversations about books and movies with people of all political stripes, and I promise you would not be able to tell which party they side with based on their appreciation for Emily Dickinson. It just sometimes seems like political divisions as we know them were some kind of royal accident. Somewhere in history people decided, probably at that time for good reasons, to divide into groups. Since then people have trying to cram their own values and beliefs into these pre-defined structures with the result being ugly and boring. Whereas every few years, the literary establishment is overturned by a new lens through which it can approach its material, the American two-party system has basically remained intact since the 1800’s (obviously with shifts in ideologies and whatnot, but modern parties do find their correlates in these earlier parties, someone tell me if I’m wrong). Anytime you have to choose one of two sides there must be some kind of simplification at hand, right? Perhaps my objection is that life is way more complex than politics. By focusing on who to vote for, why our party is the best, and why our opponents are idiots, we close ourselves off to all sorts of nuanced ways to view the world.

However politics are not just politics, they also involve ideas, primarily the big ideas of Liberalism and Conservatism, and ideas do have currency for me, even in my artsy, ephemeral, apolitical universe. So what are the ideas? Or how about, what is one idea- since I really don’t know enough about the topic to do an overview.

The way I’ve seen it since being swept away by Ayn Rand in high school, and then subsequently harrowed by legions of liberal college professors, is that American party divisions boil down to a question of whether the government going to vigorously pursue what’s best for its people, or let them decide for themselves. The first I guess is about “goodness,” the second is “freedom.” Liberalism, has a tremendous ability to be corrupted, it can be arrogant, it can wreak terrible havoc like Communism, at times it seems like an impossible project. At the same time, it can be a beautiful one. Liberals seize hold of dreams of eradicating poverty and pain, of really improving the world. Conservatives may have the same dreams, but they are not going to aggressively pursue them. There’s something scary about the laissez-faire, in the long run things will be better if we just stay out of the way approach. Historically, it may in fact have been better, but to not go help a crying, screaming baby, even if you know that’s its best for it to just keep on crying, can do bad things to your spirit if you are not careful.

So that, I think, in all its English-major ignorance, is one interesting plane on which we could discuss politics. HONESTY about what each ideology brings to the table and what it doesn’t. At best, Conservatism can keep a kind of delusional but noble Liberalism from getting out of line. At best, Liberalism can remind Conservatives that things in the world still suck, and if we are not going to rally our governments to respond to them, we should certainly respond to them on individual levels as much as we can. Of course there are tons of other factors to take into the equation of understanding American party divisions, and at the end of the day you need to vote so partisanship is in a way where any political conversation is ultimately headed, but still. I still think there’s a way we can recognize the absurdity of the political debates that surround us, and push towards a model where people aren’t so touchy about encountering an idea that is actually different. When you vote you need to choose sides, but you never really have to choose sides.

Read More......

The Center Cannot Hold!

Once again, to my combined pleasure and discomfort (mostly pleasure), Monsey is in the news again, this time as the setting for Shalom Auslander’s new memoir, “Foreskin’s Lament.” Though foreskins have never really been my "thing," a recent statement by Auslander felt eerily familiar:

“The people who raised me will say I am not religious. They are mistaken. I am painfully, cripplingly, incurably, miserably religious”

None of the articles I’ve read that quote this line explain what he means by “religious,” I’m not sure I understand what he means by “religious.” But I think it relates to a larger problem I’ve been having lately with the whole religion/literature/what to do with my life odyssey and I’ll try to explain why.

I learned a couple of things when I was in English literature graduate school, but this above all: after the 1890’s, maybe before, religion and good literature stopped operating hand in hand. "Good literature" is of course, a category that’s up for debate, as is, once again “religion,” but I think we can come up with some ballpark categories. For one: Literature and its scholarship will fling you in all kinds of directions, providing new language and concepts to refine our sense of the world and our place in it. The possibilities are endless in this kind of centrifuge, as are the conclusions you will draw. Religion on the other hand, while certainly less simple than the Dawkinses and Hitchenses of the world would maintain, is ultimately a centripetal force- drawing its adherents in to some kind of unnamed center, ordering reality and subjugating it to one or maybe a handful of things. Though the results are invariably messier than intended, the force is generally, I think, about streamlining, reigning things in. Every discipline has affinities to this aspect of religion, but when God is completely, utterly, divorced from the picture, the results end up looking really different. I.e. you actually have difference! So even though the NY Times will seem chock-full of these Jewish interest pieces as it has been for the past week, it will also have as many or more articles about Iraq, the Red Sox, Google, the environment, the DOW, gourmet olives, birth control, and Latvia. It’s true that it often does seem like the Times does have a kind of messianic impulse toward articles with Jewish content, but for a good portion of its readers, I would imagine, the Judaism stuff does not suck them in and dominate their attention the way it does for people raised Orthodox. It’s interesting, like lots of stuff is interesting, and that’s really it.
So what to do if you are not one of those regular readers? Or more specifically, if you are not one of those readers but have a sinking feeling that they are right. That in this crazy mixed up world (yes I say that way too much) there is no one thing that can really justify the streamlining of our thoughts and actions. Or, as Yeats said it:

Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world.

Of course, Yeats goes on to talk about some beast slouching toward Bethlehem, indicating that even he is ok unifying all of reality into one bizarre religious figure, but his point still stands. The center cannot hold, and yet, it continues to grab, tackle and drag me in. So what to do?

A few possible solutions:
1) Revive some kind of organic Jewish commonwealth.
Almost everyone agrees that the Bible is a good piece of literature, even though it is religious, and that is because it is lots of other things as well. When God is a stable and unquestioned part of your environment, other things can pursued without awkward dissonance. Its not an issue of center versus periphery, it is the food we eat, the air that we breathe. This of course, may not be the most realistic of options, historic attempts at realizing it have bordered on the insane, but it can be actualized in a more diluted fashion in the form of a:

2) Move to Israel.
I don’t think that religion equals God, religion is all kinds of things, and for me, for the most part, it’s a language; a way of communicating meaning and values etc... Living in Israel certainly does not equal believing in God, but it does get you closer to that language, if only because of the biblical roots of its own. The whole good literature versus religious literature divide doesn’t really make sense in Israel, religion is in the food, the air, the kool-aid etc… Yehuda Amichai is very different than Rav Kook, but when you thing about him versus John Ashbury or William Carlos Williams start to multiply and multiply until they are not even worth talking about. Actually… is that true? Whatever, despite strong religious/secular frictions in Israel, I see more potential for a kind of healthy cultural continuity happening there than here.

3) But we are here, and they are there. Thus, luckily, there is always that third path: simply addressing the topic itself ad nauseum. This has been the path of Shalom Auslander, Noah Feldman, and other notables, and it can be pursued in one of either two frameworks: a) Talking about secular stuff to religious people, and b) talking about religious stuff to secular people.

I think I basically do the first one in most avenues of my life. This is satisfying because the movement OUT from a defined center can feel very similar to the movement IN to a defined center. The work of centralizing things is done for me by my students, so I don’t have to feel intellectually dishonest, and I can constantly bring things back to Judaism, which I would do anyway, but without the fear of being pigeonholed. But this path is also problematic because it limits your impact. To only talk to Orthodox Jews for the rest of my life? Yikes. Yet the other path, bringing Judaism to the Nations of the World, does not seem much more appetizing. I hope Shalom Auslander can write the great American novel one day- but for now, brachos bees and Yeshiva of Spring Valley seem to be the stuff of his artistic engagement. Half of his writing will always be translation, and until we revive that religious theocracy thing, we’re all bound to have to do the same.

4) I should mention that there’s always that final, somewhat terrifying solution: Stop whining and get a real job. This prospect makes me more uncomfortable than all the religious/secular dichotomies in the world combined, and will consequently not be discussed any further.

So the tension still stands, and I think that’s why someone would say he is “painfully, cripplingly, incurably, miserably religious.” It’s crippling because you keep coming back to it, it keeps you from fully throwing yourself into all the various frontiers that modernity has to offer. But its always nice to have something to come back to.
On that note, its good to be back!

Read More......

Summer Break

Sorry its been a while since we've updated. Travelling does strange things to my brain, the world feels too big to summarize in a blog post, and now that I'm back I have all these other things to catch up with. So I am officially taking a holiday from blogging for a little bit (though I am always happy to ramble on in person). Hope to be back on track soon.

Read More......

The Body Issue

In a previous post I wrote about how much a sunny day can do to whittle away angst and bad spirits. This, it occurs to me, is not always the case. In fact, there is a way in which warm weather can produce a whole new set of anxieties, and they usually have to do with bodies. That is, there is some point every year, as temperatures start to rise, when the masses of people around me in New York City stop being people and start being bodies- long, short, dark, light, thin, heavy, smooth, wrinkled bodies. Walking down the street becomes this giant flesh fest (the kind our tznius literature warned us about) and I can’t help but be absorbed by it. Joining a gym this year has added to the onslaught, and I am constantly in awe of the rich variety of bodies and faces that can be contained within one species (let alone one locker room).

At the same time, mixed up with this sense of awe is the inevitable feeling of inadequacy, as the surplus of exposed body surface makes me measure my own in comparison, and find myself falling short. Of course these concerns pale in contrast to the kinds of things that should be concerning me like pain and poverty and global stuff. But we live in our bodies, and whether we admit it or not, most of us are mildly obsessed by them. My gym is filled with hordes of highly educated, affluent people, sweating and exhausting themselves for hours a week entirely for the purpose of having nice abs. And I don't even care about them, I care about my people (highly educated, not so affluent...) the majority of whom also spend loads of time and energy choosing food and clothing and that will make them as thin as possible. I care because it upsets everything we’ve been taught to think matters in life- namely kindness, sensitivity, intelligence, social consciousness and the like. Weight has nothing to do with these things, and yet it matters, and I’m still at a loss for a way to synthesize that knowledge into the general way I think about people.

For example: Boy meets girl. Boy thinks girl is sweet, smart, interesting. Girl thinks the same. They make each other laugh like neither has laughed in ages, and they both get the sense that if something serious came up, they would be equally on the same page. But girl is rather heavy and this puts boy off. He ends up asking out inferior woman he is attracted to. Girl feels like crap. I could construe this scenario a million other ways (and someone, somewhere is upset that I have used “girl” instead of “woman”), but the point is a familiar one. Looks matter in the cruelest ways. You (all of you) will not end up with the best person for you. You will end up with the best person to whom you are attracted, and who is attracted to you in turn (along with all the other necessary demands).

Perhaps the most convenient way to think about this would be to get away from the archaic mind-body distinction. We are our bodies, hot people have hot personalities, likewise for plain people, looks condition the way you grow up and the way you think about yourself. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and reflects a million other amorpheous attributes (like vibe and attitude) that run much deeper. I’ve heard this line of thought plenty of times before, and much of it rings true. But how can we say, in this age of crash diets, cosmetic surgery, and TV makeovers, that your appearance is at all a stable part of your persona. And even if it is, it can still hurt.

I know because I see it all around me. See it with friends who cannot get a second date no matter how well the first one went. See it with genuinely great guys who would never consider dating me because I am a head taller than them (to be fair, I am not completely guiltless in this regard). See it with people who will always be noticed and paid attention to at parties, and people who simply will not. Hopefully everyone will find their special someone, and I wouldn’t say that successful relationships are even remotely dependent on objective attractiveness. But some are. Bodies are our greatest tools, but they can also trap us, limit our possibilities for love and connection. The gym bunnies at Equinox are probably a little too conscious of this, but they are more honest than we are at our Shavuot Torah learning retreats (which, by the way, was super fun!). The liberal Jewish philosophy I’ve been most exposed to regarding this matter has been-if you ignore it, it will go away. To a certain extent, this is true. If you are given literally no room to obsess about your body out loud, then you will feel ashamed to make certain choices based on that, maybe even feel compelled to give someone a shot who you’d rather not. But in order for this to actually work, we’d have to stay away from movies and television as well, not to mention sweltering New York City streets. Until then, we will continue to occupy this weird space where bodies matter more than they should and we talk about it less than we should. We will make the decision of who we want to spend the rest of our lives with, in part, because of a few inches here or there, or some other genetic coincidence that could have gone a million different ways; and we will go on thinking that what really matters is kindness and sensitivity etc… What other option is there?

Read More......

"Enough"

Dedicated to Z.E.

Every Spring I am struck by the realization that as real, as painful, as disturbing as the burdens that weigh down on our lives may be, a sunny day can do a great deal to make things seem different. People smile more, they let down their guards, and sitting outside doing absolutely nothing seems like a worthwhile goal in of itself. It feels like “enough,” if that makes sense. Like God gave us this world in order to enjoy it- period. I go indoors when I need to work on my papers. Only in air-conditioning and artificial light can I feel like my investigation of the liturgical use of puns in the poetry of George Herbert is a worthwhile endeavor.

I would like to write a paper that could compete with the sunny day. One that could make people reading it feel- this, this is enough- this is what it’s all about. Next best thing would be feeling that myself, with someone, with something, in a sustained way. I don’t think you can do both by the way. You can’t feel blissful satisfaction and also transmit it to others (except by example, I guess). Why? Because of politics, the difficulty of writing, getting your word out, needing to stay in the library, get a job, kiss-up to important people, repeat, explain, translate etc…Good teachers see it as craft, something that needs to be painstakingly prepared for- bad teachers see it as a higher calling that they need only transmit through their enthusiasm. The person who writes well about the sunny day will never be the same person who enjoys it fully. The person who writes beautifully and pointedly about love or religion will never, please tell me if you disagree here, be fully sustained by either. How can you really explain something to someone else unless you are on the outside, a little bit? Why should you need to explain it, if you have it, anyway?

All of this creates this strange cycle wherein the people who act as the mediators of "higher meaning" in the modern world, English professors, clergy, whoever, can only do a successful job if they are very much in touch with all the not so meaningful things necessary to get their word out there. They need to stand outside their message to a certain degree. The people who are actually content don’t care to write about it, why suffer through all the politics when the sun is shining outside and desk jobs pay so much better anyway. But those content people use a vocabulary they have learned from all the stressed out, annoying, academics; they attribute their deep satisfaction to adherence to religions perpetuated by things like advertising, fundraising, lobbying etc... So strange. This cycle is probably a lot more complicated then I am making it out to be. But good blogging by laypeople is probably the only way to put an end to it. That I’m pretty sure about…

Read More......

What on Earth?

"They Tried To Kill Us. They Failed. Let's Eat!"
by Yidcore



Good or god-awful?

Read More......

Guest Panel Discussion on Jewish Identity

Ok I'm tired of hearing my own voice on this blog, so we are going to try something new. Below is a guest post by Shmuel, a longtime friend of UH, and superstar law student, and in comments are some really great responses that probe the issue further. Please add to the conversation if you can!

Hi All,
An unsettling incident took place today, and I’d like to hear your reaction. I was in the student lounge, studying for finals with Sam, a fellow 2L in the law school. Sam has always told me about his Jewish identity. He is from a small Southern city, where his family has lived for about two hundred years. They still have a Sefer Torah that their great…grandparents hid from Union soldiers during the Civil War. The family now affiliates with the Reform movement. Sam is religiously literate and completely identifies as a Jew.

We began chatting about how we need to get married within the next year (i.e. by the end of law school) as once work began. there would be no time to date. Sam mentioned that New York Jews do not consider a Jew from the South an authentic Jew (an interesting point), nor for that matter, do Orthodox Jews consider him a Jew. I asked why not? Sam replied that his mother is not Jewish. I asked him how he knew that this affected his Jewish status. Sam explained that during his bar mitzvah trip to Israel, while at the Kotel, a chassid approached him. The chassid asked Sam if he wanted to put on tfillin. Sam agreed. He then asked Sam if he was Jewish. Sam told him that he was. The chassid next asked Sam if both parents were Jewish, When Sam answered no - his mother was not Jewish - the chassid immediately walked away.

Sam's story deeply disturbs me. Sam bears all of the burdens of being Jewish, (among them, identifying with a small persecuted minority – which is perhaps not a big deal in New York, but is certainly a formidable challenge in the Deep South. Sam has told me that while growing up, every few months he would need to explain to someone why he did not accept the Lord Jesus Christ as his Savior. ) . He participates in Jewish practice and culture (he went to his first Purim shpiel this year). Yet we do not consider him a Jew. Someone who has a Jewish mother however, we do consider a Jew, even were he to change his name to Smith and celebrate Christmas. The arbitrary criteria we employ to determine Jewishness seems deeply unfair, indeed almost unethical. I told Sam that the archetype of conversion in the Bible is Ruth, and that her conversion consisted of publicly identifying with the Jewish people - am'ech ami. It is true that the Orthodox halakha has additional criteria when considering the question of who is a Jew. Yet fundamentally, it seems that the public identification with the plight of the Jewish people is all that really matters.

At this point, two issues need to be addressed:
1. How does one respond to Sam? Do you tell him that it is true, he is a gentile? How do you explain / justify the halakha to him?
2. How do we justify the halakha to ourselves? One can answer that being Jewish is simply a formal legal status, that is devoid of any meaning. But if we consider being Jewish to be something more meaningful, why make it contingent upon descent from the mother? How do you exclude someone from the Jewish people (although he is more involved than most Jews) simply because the wrong parent wasn't Jewish?


Shmuel sent his question out in an email before allowing me to post it on the blog. Below is a sampling of the back and forth.
More Thoughts?

Read More......

Observer Article

Its not on the web, but the writer was kind enough to send it to me as a Word document.

More to the Heights Than Meets the Eye
By Batsheva Lipschitz

What comes to mind when you think of Washington Heights?


For most people the answer is Yeshiva University (YU). Yet, former Stern College for Women (SCW) alumna Sarah Rindner (SCW '06) thinks there's more to "the Heights" than that. After living there for the past six months, Rindner now associates the community with a much broader group of people.

In the spring of 2006, Rindner co-created a blog about what she calls the "young, interesting, artistic, religiously concerned people who live in the Washington Heights area who do not really affiliate with any of the institutions there." The title of her blog, Underground Heights (UH), originally named by UH co-founder Elyakim Deutsch (YC '05), is meant to be ironic and to create awareness about communities in the Heights, other than the YU community. "Their presence goes somewhat unnoticed," observed Rindner. "The idea behind 'Underground Heights,' would be to bring some of those 'underground' elements out to the surface, and see what kind of community could emerge."

Rindner is proud to say that some of the same goals that inspired the blog have manifested themselves with the creation of a progressive new minyan (prayer group), Migdal Or. What differentiates Migdal Or from most other Orthodox minyanim is that a woman leads part of the Friday night services. Rindner compares Migdal Or to Congregation Darchei Noam in New York City , and Shira Chadasha in Jerusalem, Israel.

In a posting titled "Balcony Blues," Rindner expressed her feelings about synagogue mechitzas (physical partitions between males and females) and the separate role that women play in synagogue in general. When she attended Kehillat Hadar, a mechitza-free minyan on the Upper West Side of Manhattan , the open-minded Rindner said that instead of viewing tefilla (prayer) as a spectator-sport, she felt a sense of belonging. Her comment sparked further conversation on the topic, with many women admitting they felt the same way. This was perhaps the first time people of the Heights community discussed this issue publicly.

"I've never seen another blog that is both geographically, [and] community centered as ours is," commented Rindner, "as well as concerned with inner thoughts and struggles to the extent that we are. Because of that, it's kind of hard to categorize what UH is all about. Is it about community? Religious truth? Finding meaning in life? Finding love? Having fun with friends? I think for many of us, those things do work together, and the question is whether they can work together successfully in a public forum."

For the most part, UH, with a total of about 13,000 hits, has been successful in many ways. The creator of the blog asserts that UH has affected her personal relationships. She recalls that she found her roommate of half a year on the blog site. She also enjoys when people approach her about things they've read on the blog. But, Rindner explained, "perhaps even more meaningful has been the depth it's added to relationships I already have. Some of the most interesting conversations sparked by the blog have taken place over e-mail and in person long afterwards."

The former Monsey resident states that she usually checks UH about twice daily and looks forward to reading new comments. However, there are occasionally comments posted that Rindner does not appreciate. Some of the undesirable posts are those written by people who log on under fictitious names to comment in response to Migdal Or. According to Rindner, they say obnoxious things that they wouldn't dare say in public.

Despite these rude remarks, Rachel Berger, one of three roommates to host the first Migdal Or minyan a few weeks ago, credits UH with building "a sense of community here in Washington Heights for an artsy, thoughtful bunch of post YU grads."
Rindner states that she and Deutsch started UH "because [they] thought it would be fun to start a community blog." UH describes itself on the web as "an ironically named blog about some relatively interesting people in and around Washington Heights , and, to be fair, well beyond that area."

Now a resident of the Upper West Side, Rindner falls into the "well beyond that area" category. She asserts that it's worthwhile to run the UH blog and also finds it a constructive way to keep in touch with friends. "It's really exciting to think what kind of ripple effect even a teeny dip into the public sphere can have," she observed.

Stern College Observer- April 2007

Read More......

Undies in the News

I heard there was a great article, all about Underground Heights, by Batsheva Lipschitz in the most recent Stern Observer. I haven't gotten a chance to see it yet, but if you're near a distribution site, I encourage yout to check it out, and if possible, pick me up a copy!

In other news...



Also, I think that Spring is here. Shabbat Shalom.

Read More......

The Lost

Just now, in my late-night procrastination rounds, I clicked on the NYT website only to be horrifed by news that everyone else has probably known about all day. How do you process something like that? 32 lives just over, with no forewarning, no illness, no reason, not even a bad reason . Strange to say all this only a day after Yom HaShoah, one would think we have the tools for processing these kinds of statistics, far more dismal ones in fact. But we don’t, sustained meditation on these losses is impossible. Even properly thinking about one lost person is impossible. There’s all this clutter, like on the Times homes page- advertisements, Sports, an article in “Praise of Plants.” 32 worlds have ended, but that’s not even close to enough to fill a newspaper. It makes me wonder what the point of all this commemoration is in the first place. I mean, I do it all the time, I am obsessed with the Holocaust, and even more consumed by recent experiences of loss. But the futility of it all upsets me sometime, as I forgot, get distracted, inevitably do a lousy job confronting absence.

How do we think about the dead? As they were when they were living? Well then they are ghosts, they aren’t dead, they are just memories of living people you will never be able to see again. What about their physical deterioration? That gets you closer I think, we’re able to think about pain, dying moments are a huge part of literature I imagine for that reason. It’s a bridge from life to death, a way to get closer to thinking about death. But actually cognizing it is really hard. Newspapers have their inadequate methods, but mine aren’t so much better. Ghosts and memories or descriptions of pain and suffering, that’s all I have. And even when I think about those things, I invariably end up more concerned with my immediate surroundings, with the ripple effects of absence. I guess that would a third way of thinking about death, the toll it takes on the living. But am I being silly for thinking that those three ways are still missing something- that we in our selfish, isolated bubbles of being alive can’t really care about anything outside of us. We’re programmed to go on, even if it’s really not fair that some people don’t get to.

Read More......

More Suggestions for Keeping Pesach Interesting

1) ASK QUESTIONS. The Haggadah has it right, but the story of Yetziat Mitzrayim will only get you so far. People, on the other hand, never cease to intrigue, especially older people, and random questions to relatives about their pasts (bungalow colonies, Satmar sleepaway camp, Poland, sheitels, dating, you name it) has given me some of the richest, most delicious info. Don’t pass on these opportunities to hear people’s stories, everyone loves sharing them and there will inevitably be a time when you’ll wish you knew more but you’ll no longer have the opportunity to ask. Ask.

2) DON’T FIGHT, EVER. This may not be applicable to some people reading, but I will confess that there was once a time when I thought conversations with anyone were most interesting when we located a point of disagreement. I am DIFFERENT from my family in this way, I DISAGREE with you in this respect— I, I, I. The truth is, everyone comes from different places, and points of disagreement are almost always, I would even say always, predicated upon vastly different sets of circumstances that led each party in those different directions. Choosing any single issue on which to disagree is arbitrary, understanding the world of thoughts and experiences that led that that person to think the way she does is fascinating. Also, I know what I think, what fun is it to vociferously assert it when I could be getting insight into someone else’s weird, complex world. And really changing someone else's outlook is hard, perhaps one of the hardest things one can do, better to just sit back and analyze the various ways people approach things.

3) Take advantage of the attention of people who care about you. There are very few situations in life where the people around you are truly, genuinely, concerned about your best interests. Family gatherings are one of them, and yet, they are usually too annoying for us (or at least me) to be able to appreciate that fact. But take advantage of what you can, ask your relatives for advice in whatever interpersonal affair has been concerning you as of late-boys, friends, colleagues, teachers whatever. Their advice may not be extraordinarily helpful, but I think it is always so fun to hear people’s take on you and your life, and they will feel so flattered for being consulted, and you never know what new aspect of the situation will be illuminated.

4) Play with kids. This is definitely not applicable to everyone, but certain people, inhabiting certain urban, collegiate, everyone is above age 20 worlds, sometimes forget how amazing the process of early cognition can be. When learning is not this tedious re-processing of the same overprocessed jargon but a really exciting journey of discovery and making connections, where there really is new stuff to know, and wildly appealing things to do. Also if you can convince them to give you the chills…perfection! I still think I like spending time with adults more, but kids are absolutely, positively indispensable, and I can’t wait to have like 15 of my own.

Ok, I think that was the preachiest thing I’ve ever written, but I really mean this advice, it’s come from the very depths of my (albeit limited) experience. Of course I imagine some people were just BORN knowing this stuff, and look forward to every family holiday with mature and even-tempered pleasure. And for them I will be happy to insert some angst and provocation next time around. But for now, I hope everyone really enjoys their holidays, and makes the most of a point in time that can never be returned to.

Read More......

Passover Reading

Below is a frantic e-mail I sent out to a bunch of people from my gmail drop-down box, and also excerpts of some their responses (I had to excise the person-specific and borderline inappropriate stuff, but that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate it all the same). If anyone is uncomfortable with the instant fame and celebrity being quoted on this blog will bring you, PLEASE let me know, I will initialize you immediately. On a side note, is it tacky to use personal e-mail threads as blog fodder? Things have just been so hectic lately, and the books selections are so good... Also, it will be fun if people add on/disagree in comments.

“Help! I just realized Pesach is coming and all I have to read is a book on post-liberal theology and a draft of my MA thesis. If people can recommend a book or two they've absolutely LOVED and not want to put down, not only because its "important to have read," then I would be greatly appreciative. I'm eagerly anticipating your selections, and I hope you all have a super-duper Passover.
Best,
Sarah”

Michal S.:

1. the story of jane: the legendary underground feminist abortion movement
2. currently reading a book called "real boys" by a dr. pollack which
I am really enjoying.

oh, and add
1. "reproducing Jews: a cultural account of fertility treatment in
Israel" to the list by susan martha kahn
2. Sacrificed for Honor: Italian Infant Abandonment and the Politics
of Reproductive Control
by David I. Kertzer

Both are also AWESOME reads.

Zvi Halpern:
White Noise, by Don Delillo. The Island of the Day Before, by Umberto
Eco. The Brothers Ashkenazi, by I.J. Singer.

Tamar Warburg:
These are kind of random, but -- I liked: The Kite Runner, The Things They Carried (you may have read this in school -- it's very compelling, human side of Vietnam), Blindness by Jose Saramago (disturbing; I'm still not totally sure what to think). I just read Exodus for the first time, and if you haven't read it then you absolutely must. I heard that A Fine Balance is incredible.


ALG:
The Glass Lake, by Maeve Binchy. Totally not "important to have read," but I really enjoyed it. I read all 750 pages over the course of one Shabbat, and definitely couldn't put it down. It won't do much for you if you don't like these kinds of family sagas, though. I've read and enjoyed Maeve Binchy's other books as well. See it and other books I've read recently here: http://abacaximamao.blogspot.com/2007/03/on-and-off-my-bookshelf.html

Also, I recently finished The Bastard on the Couch: 27 Men Try Really Hard to Explain Their Feelings About Love, Loss, Fatherhood, and Freedom , edited by Daniel Jones, which I enjoyed tremendously. It was a different perspective on gender and gender roles than I am usually exposed to through reading women's writing.

Ann Peters (my guru):
1 CLOUD ATLAS by David Mitchell
2 THE GREAT FIRE by Shirley Hazzard
3 Kawabata — Japanese novelist. Try THE SOUND OF THE MOUNTAIN to get a feel for him.
4 POSSESSION by A.S. Byatt
5 BERLIN STORIES by Christopher Isherwood
6 BOOK AND THE BROTHERHOOD by Iris Murdoch
7 SPRING SNOW by Mishima
8 MARTIN DRESSLER by Steven Milhauser
9 FATHER AND SON by Edmund Gosse
10 FLAUBERT’S PARROT by Julian Barnes
11 HOPE AGAINST HOPE by Nadeshda Mandelstam
12 INTELLECTUAL MEMOIRS by Mary McCarthy
13 THE PROFESSOR’S HOUSE by Willa Cather
14 SIX NOTES FOR THE NEXT MILLENIUM by Italo Calvino
15 NEVER LET ME GO by Kazuo Ishiguro
16 RUNNING IN THE FAMILY by Michael Ondatjee
17 THE MASTER BUTCHER’S SINGING CLUB by Louise Erdrich
18 LIAR’S CLUB by Mary Karr
19 AMERICAN PASTORAL by Philip Roth
20 CONCRETE by Thomas Bernhard
…
In our Fact and Fiction class, we’re reading Daniel Mendelsohn’s THE LOST over break. Join us!
…
Oh and read Nabakov’s autobiography for a taste of truly wonderful writing.

Bella Tendler:
You already know which book I want you to read!

[Ed. note: I believe she means The Name of the Rose by Umberto Eco]

Estie Wolfe:
Diary of a Country Priest. I cant remember the authors name. I told you
before, but I don’t know if you read it in the end.

[Georges Bernanos]

Harvey Rosenberg:
I'm assuming you've read Metamorphosis - but if you haven't, you
must! It's amazing! I also loved loved loved The Trail by kafka.
The Hunger Artist is a short story by kafka which i also recommend -
ask Berman.

hmm... Harry Potters are good - are you into that sort of thing?

and then there is Wuthering Heights or the Age of Innocence -
perhaps labeled "girly" by some - both compelling stories I thought.

Ethan Frome also.
so, do you have any recommendations for me?

Ari Gordon:
Cat's Cradle, Siddhartha, anything by Etgar Keret

Shelley Rindner (my other guru):
Veil of Roses by Laura Fitzgerald

Moshe Fruchter:
I recommend Mishehu Larutz Ito by David Grossman

Miriam C:
I loved The Glass Castle

Tziona Katz
"On Beauty" was good
Reading "Nickel and Dimed" now which is also really good
Someone just told me "Sunflower in the Fan" is good---haven’t read it though so I couldn’t tell you


Noah Greenfield:
Some books that come to mind:
The Yeshiva by Chaim Grade
Yoshe Kalb by I.B. Singer's brother (can't remember his name now)
The Family Mashber by Der Nister
The Body of Faith by Michael Wyschogrod
Carnal Israel by Daniel Boyarin
Prince of Tides by Pat Conroy

Talia Rosenberg:
I just read Empire Falls and it was great.

Michael Stein:
You probably read this already but it is one of my personal favorites - Siddhartha by Herman Hesse. It is a little short though - you will need a few more suggestions.

Liz Muschel:
19 Minutes Jodi Picoult

Moshe Halpern:
My favorite book is called "A Complicated Kindness" by Miriam Toews.
If you like it, then you should also read "Swing Low: A Life" by the same
person. You shouldn't read Swing Low first.

Shira Stanleigh:
I know I'm not objective, but I really liked my Fiance's book (Survival of
the Sickest).

[ http://www.amazon.com/Survival-Sickest-Medical-Maverick-Discovers/dp/0060889659/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1/104-0482302-9419130?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1174946498&sr=8-1]

Me:
I read “The Namesake” by Jhumpa Lahiri over Shabbos and loved it. It touched on a lot of issues that I think a lot about, like cultural difference and the ability to be with people who have extremely different backgrounds from you. It’s also beautifully written and easy and enjoyable to read.
I also recently read Robert Wuthnow’s “After Heaven: Spirituality in America since the 1950’s” and thought it was excellent. It’s a true eye-opener for anyone interested in religion, or Americans, and also extremely well written and fun to read.
And I’ve said stuff about this before but I am obsessed with “The Diving Bell and the Butterfly,” by Jean-Dominique Bauby. It’s a really short and painfully beautiful memoir, this definitely falls into the books you won’t be able to put down category.

Lital Levin:
Anil's Ghost, Michael Ondaatje;
Buddenbrooks, Thomas Mann;
The Remains of the Day, Ishiguro

Is what comes to mind right now. All of them make for an absolutely breathless reading. I couldn't put them down.

David Wise:
The Agony and the Ecstasy, Irving Stone (really enjoying this, literary biography of Michelangelo).
Biography of Louis Pasteur, Patrice Debre (interesting work from perspective of history of science).
Poems from the Diwan, Gabriel Levin (secular poetry of Yehuda Halevi- lots of fun, although more enjoyable in Hebrew).
House of God, Samuel Shem (satire of medical culture- I found it hilarious- you might find it incredibly disturbing).

Rachel Berger:
Oh wait! I remember three:

Random Family: Love, Drugs, Trouble and Coming of Age in the Bronx, by Adrian Nichole LeBlanc, will knock you down and never let you up again.

The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down, by Anne Fadiman is a spectacular look at Hmong refugees and the clashes between culture that seem impentrable. Also an interestign bit of history in their, for those of us that kind of glossed over American history.

Feminism and Psychoanalytic Theory by Nancy Choderow. Need I say more?

None of these are fiction, which is why I didn’t count them.
But they are good.

Shira Stanleigh:
The truth is, there is someone else worth reading, though this does fall
external to my duties as Sharon's shameless promotions manager: anything by
Krishnamurti, but an especially good place to start is "Life Ahead: on
learning and the search for meaning"

He is painfully meditative and challenges every strata of your
self-understanding...fun!!

Rachel W.:
I could suggest other things, but as it looks like you've already
gotten the gamut of liberal, Western (and Far-Eastern), contemporary
or post-modern, (pseudo*)-intellectual pickings, here is what I will
add to the lot (and I'm not kidding about these):

What the Angel Taught You: Seven Keys to Life Fulfillment, by R. Noah
Weinberg and Yaakov Salomon
Passionate Judaism: An Inspirational Guide for a Happy and Fulfilling
Life, by R. Moshe Meir Weiss

These are "light" reading, yet potentially life-changing texts,
depending on how they are perceived and received.

Also interesting, and not yet mentioned:

Blink, by Malcom Gladwell
The Eleventh Hour: A Curious Mystery, by Graeme Base
A Constant Reminder, by Isaac Charchat

Some extra-Traditional mussar:

How to Win Friends and Influence People, by Dale Carnegie
The Screwtape Letters, by C. S. Lewis

Some seasonal fiction:

Of Human Bondage, by Somerset Maugham
The Grapes of Wrath, by John Steinbeck

And some perennial favorites:

The Lonely Man of Faith, by R. Joseph B. Soloveichik
This Side of Paradise, by F. Scott Fitzgerald
An American Tragedy, by Theodore Dreiser
Rebecca, by Daphne du Maurier

Highly recommended to me, though I cannot speak from experience (yet):

John Adams, by David McCullough

P.S. If none of all these suggestions appeal, you can just fall back
on the Tanakh or the N.Y. Times Magazine- both always an excellent
read, although, of course, I am NOT equating the two, and feel
irreverant even mentioning them in the same breath.

*I'm sorry- I don't mean to be insulting or supercilious by using this
term; I just can't resist when I see a list of so many liberal,
Western (and Far-Eastern), contemporary or post-modern thinkers and
writers untempered by the Torah's voice...

Shmuel Kadosh:
I would suggest :

1. The Measure of our Days - Jerome Groopman : A very thoughtful reflection on the medical profession / illness
2. Girl Meets God - Lauren Winner: About a convert to Orthodoxy who returns to her Catholic past. A little disturbing, but well written
3. The Varieties of Religious Experiences - William James: A little bit disturbing, and a little old, but a very, very, thoughtful discussion.

If you are interested in reading some Jewish studies , i would highly recommend:
1. Torah min ha-shamayim bi'aspaklaria shel ha'dorot - A.J. Heschel, translated as "Heavenly Torah as Refracted Through the Generations (Gordon Tucker, trans. ) . It is not in fact, about Torah min hashamayim, but rather a systematic survey of the philosophy of r' akiva and r' yishmael - it is monumental in scope and well written. He shows that the rabbis were not as silly as we think, but had consistent, comprehensive theologies.
2. In Potiphar's House - James Kugel : Kugel takes some classic midrashim about Yosef , and shows how they evolved from traditions found in the N. Testament and Apocrypha. He also discusses the textual clues that led chazal to create a particular midrash. It is interesting b/c it shows the thought and creativity that the Rabbis put into the midrashic enterprise.

Elyakim Deutsch:
One idea is that maybe you should read this book: http://www.toptenbooks.net/ -- and then it will tell you which other books to read and you can work from there...
Other than that, I'll have to think about it... See my Facebook profile for some suggestions -- Nabokov, Chabon, Aimee Bender, George Saunders -- these are all cool writers. Also a breeze and very-well-written book capturing Middle American housewifeyness - both very fun and very sad somehow at the same time - is Mrs. Bridge by Evan S. Connell, which I liked so much more than I thought I would. I'm liking Murakami a lot, and I feel like you'd enjoy Grace Paley, whom I haven’t read enough of. Maybe you could read Jernigan by David Gates and tell me how it was -- I've been meaning to get to that. And I hear David Grossman is good Israeli stuff. And there's this "Moby Dick" book I keep hearing about to. Let me know if you get to the bottom of all that.
If you want to read a short story that will totally destroy you, read "People Like That are the Only People Here: Canonical Babbling in Peed Onk" by Lorrie Moore (found in the collection Birds of America) [based to some degree on true stuff in her life, which is very much the point].
Again, this is not my list - this is my rambling to procrastinate from doing work. If I was making a real list, it would be organized and grammatical and informative and wise. Oh, and I just remembered - the readings for the National Book Critics Circle Award nominees were basically all great - so for a new great book of any genre, check out the list of nominees here: http://www.bookcritics.org/?go=finalists -- theres also a link to their blog there, which goes thru detailed descriptions of each book as well.
…
Oh, one more thing: As far as your NYC/tourguiding interests go, I think "Waterfront: A Walk Around Manhattan" by Phillip Lopate would be perfect. (A description: "In this loose circumnavigation, first up the West Side from the Battery to Washington Heights and then up the East Side from South Street Seaport to Highbridge Park, [Lopate] takes the reader up close on an information-packed journey—dipping, as the particular location suggests, into memoir, history, current events, marine biology, city planning, literature, architecture, interviews, biography, films, ecology and more.")
…
P.S. Coming out in May, keep your eye out for Chabon's latest, which as I understand it will be a post-Holocaust alternate reality involving a Jewish noir detective story... in Alaska. More about that here: http://www.amazon.com/Yiddish-Policemens-Union-Novel/dp/0007149824/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1/102-5475487-7316153?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1175054538&sr=1-1

Sam Spinner:
Well, like I said, I find the Haggadah an appropriate enough choice for
Pesach.


Happy Reading and Chag Sameach

Read More......

Laughter versus Sincerity

Last night at Kavvanah , we looked at a sugya in Brachot 20a that talks about Kavod Habriot and Kiddush Hashem. The Gemarah asks why we don’t experience miracles now the way our ancestors did, and it answers that it was because of the self-sacrifices they made for God. What kind of sacrifices? Well R.Ada was once walking in the shuk and he saw a women sitting wearing a karbalta (some kind of gaudy or inappropriate garment) and thought she was Jewish so he tore it right off of her. Then it was revealed the women wasn’t Jewish so R’ Ada had to pay 400 zuz. 400 zuz-what a sacrifice in the name of Hashem!

Now such a passage can elicit two responses, well actually three. The first, the conservative approach, is to say, well yeah, she should not have been wearing a karbalta. Of course he needed to respond with force. The only unfortunate thing is that we wouldn’t have the strength of will to do that today. The second, the liberal approach, would respond with righteous indignation. What kind of Rabbi could strip a garment off of a woman in public? She is the one who has been martyred not him! How can we praise this misogynist for his act of Kiddush Hashem?! The third approach, lets call it the aesthetic approach, may not really care one way or another, but will notice something subtle that gradually grows obvious- this passage is meant to be funny! Nowhere else in the Gemarah does it mention that there is anything wrong with wearing a karbalta, there is a tone of sexual jocularity surrounding the whole episode, and it ends with a sing-song like couplet. The Talmud can be funny sometimes, and the question is, what does that do to its meaning? Are we meant to disregard that passage’s import because it doesn’t take itself entirely seriously. Certainly it is leading off of a serious discussion and is about to lead into one. But is there a way that you can be serious and funny at the same time?

Someone smart, I forgot who, once told me that laughter is the absence of sincerity. Meaning, you can have things that go back and forth between being funny and being serious, but the moment of laughter is one in which you lose your sense of moral order, of caring about the person you’re laughing at, and wrapping things up in a meaningful whole. This does not mean your values are lost for good-but you can’t have both humor and sincerity at the same time. Earlier this year I attended a comedy show run by a Jewish and Arab comedian called “Stand Up For Peace,” partly in order to test this “laughter is the absence of sincerity” hypothesis. Presumably, this show was about a beautiful, higher mission- peace- but it was also supposed to be extremely funny. I was intrigued. Yet I soon found that the only thing peaceful about their jokes was the context in which they were said- by two highly Americanized comedians, one Arab and one Jewish, on stage together. They’re comedians, they make fun of people, but instead of making fun of each other they made fun of President Bush and the bigots at airport security. In retrospect, it was an event that promoted peace, but the humor itself was not peaceful- most of the jokes were made at the expense of someone, it was just someone who both the Arab and Jew agreed was fair game. But I wonder if it could have been any other way.

It’s something I struggle with in my own writing. I think people can tell that I am overly serious about many things, but as Zack has astutely noticed, this does not preclude extreme silliness. Zack’s blog, by the way, is an excellent example of how you can be a nice sincere person and also very very funny, and not in the “Family Circus” kind of way. Personally, I’m not sure if it’s a kind of defense mechanism I developed earlier one, not taking yourself too seriously prevents a kind of vulnerability that can let you get hurt. But whatever it is, by now its become a part of me. I’ve been told that I laugh kind of nervously every time I try to issue criticism or tell someone they have upset me. Almost whenever I utter a stream of words that gets to a certain point of sincerity find myself diffusing it somehow. And I don’t think that’s necessarily a problem, it makes things fun to write, and it allows space for people to read or listen no matter what kind of day they are having. And I’m really not that funny so it can't be too great a threat. But I don’t see how constantly deflecting from my actual points can’t weaken them in some way, and then the question is whether I care enough to actually change

Certainly there is precedent in literature for balancing humor and seriousness. T.S. Eliot and James Joyce, two deep, profound authors concerned with big life issues like the nature of religion and reality, are also hysterically, laugh-out-loud funny at times. I don’t think Eliot has ever written a poem that does not include some kind of bitter, funny, jab at something or other, and he will even puncture some of his deepest, most sustained reflections on the meaning of life with a joke that will totally turn things around. But here’s the thing, with Eliot and I think Joyce as well, humor does function to dissolve meaning, because they do believe that words do not suffice to capture what is really there. A joke reminds us of the absurdity and futility of our pursuit of capturing meaning in language, and that realization is meaningful of itself.

Bur I don’t think the Gemarah is doing that when it is using humor, and I don’t think I am doing that either. I do believe that there are meaningful things that can be said, but I also really like to laugh, it relieves stress, and according to Women’s World magazine it also burns calories! If language is by nature somewhat therapeutic, it helps us organize reality and experience in order to make it more manageable, it makes sense that we would also want it to be as fun and pleasurable as possible. It means we are drawing on all the resources we have to make communication more satisfying and varied. What is there to lose? The truth is there is plenty to lose- a sense of responsibility, obedience, power- but whatever. More needs to be said about harmonizing humor and sincerity, even just in the Talmudic world, but I think I’ve said enough for now.

Read More......

T and Time

I was strangely moved by Reverend T’s last post. Time moves so fast. Adina L. likes to make home videos and she was just showing me one she made last year in Boston, and watching it felt a little sad. Not because I miss Boston all that much (although I kind of do) but watching myself at an age and a point in life that can never ever be reclaimed or returned to is just a little bit painful. There’s a loss, I think, however minor it is. It’s a loss that I never felt during adolescence. Watching baby videos didn’t sway me at all back then; I couldn’t WAIT for the future. Now I wish more than anything that time would slow down. For the first time in my life I can think about things that I seriously wish I had done differently, thankfully not much, but still, there is a closing of possibilities that happens and is just going to continue to happen. That sucks.

Conversely, some things are a lot easier than they were last year. Certain kinds of pains numb over time. But I guess there’s a loss there too. I think I’m somewhat smarter now than I was when I was in college, less easily intimidated. The other day I gave a model lesson to 30 eleventh graders and it didn’t feel ridiculous. I’ve learned stuff over the last couple of years, I know a lot more now than I did when I was in eleventh grade. So in that sense I suppose the passing of time has served me well. New ways of thinking about things have been opened to me that I once had no idea existed, and that will continue to happen, I think, and that’s something to look forward to. But my body will age no matter what. My one grey hair from two summers ago now has a clone. Although, on the bright side, there are 60-year olds in my Cardio-Sculpt class who are more fit than I am (I mean, everyone there is more fit than I am), so perhaps we are not hurtling toward decrepitude as quickly as I fear.

Something I have surprisingly not cared too much about is the fact that every other minute someone I know gets engaged or married. I mean, I care in the sense that I am often very happy for them, but so much of what they are experiencing is wrapped up in the particular person they are in love with, and if I don’t feel that way about anyone right now, then it just doesn’t feel like an opportunity I am missing. It feels, for example, about as distant as hearing about someone who got into medical school. Yes, it would be nice to have a prestigious life-path laid out for me, but I haven’t taken any pre-med classes, I don’t want to be a doctor, so any kind of envy is only in the most abstract kind of way. Also I recognize that these feelings change as you get older. One part that I am a little jealous of is getting to have your own apartment filled with nice, new stuff. But I think I can deal with that (and our new apt is starting to look very nice anyway-please come by!)

So I started off this post agonizing over the passing of time and ended up realizing that things aren’t so bad. Losing the self that is forever preserved in a home video can be a little painful, but realizing how much you’ve grown since then is exciting. And sensitivity and wisdom grow exponentially- we are only going to get better. But even if that is enough to tide me over for now, I wonder what I will think 50, 60 years from now. How do people manage the prospect of old age? How do you think about time when it’s really closing in on you? Does nostalgia help? Satisfaction with what you’ve accomplished? Nachas from the kinder? Belief in a world to come? Simply being tired of being here on this earth? Or is it “Inner Peace”? These are big questions- insights from grandparents would be welcome.

P.S. Shmuel and Toby think I should resign from the blog now that I have moved to the UWS. I think I would miss it very much, but if readers agree then, sniff sniff, I will have no choice but to comply. Let me know.

Read More......

A Return to Boston: One Year Later

Well it was last March when I made my first post, and it seems like a good time to check back in and review what has happened over the year. I still believe that SMS is better than NES, though I don't play either. Dan Savage's weekly Shut- I still read, though I'm not as impressed. Here's an idea -Once the novelty wears off you won’t be as impressed, But sometimes this means you have already incorporated the ideas into your consciousness. Aaron and Shira got married. They were the reason for my return to Harvard and Beacon. The light still beeps. Elyakim and Shani, Shlomo and Tamar also got married. Shayna is engaged. I've gone on a handful of worthless dates. Person A told Person B a secret. Person C, who is four people removed from person A heard the secret and told it to person B. Is Person B still obligated to keep the secret? I don't know but Mazel Tov to Person A, and Person D for that matter - and a shout out to Harvey's first principle. I don't read this blog anymore. I would love to hear your comments as to why you do (especially those people who never comment or post).

I'm more impressed by this Guy

then this guy.
Yet I work for the latter. I think I'm ok with that. Brother Etan is engaged. His future mother-in-law has found this blog by googling his name. Since my first post Sarah has moved to and left the heights. I've turned 25. Why do people have such strong opinions of whether my friends wants to have a Minyan in their apartment? You want to go then go. Rather pray at Mount Sinai - enjoy. Prefer to watch tv at home - I don’t care and why should anyone else? I wish them luck as they try to imbue their lives with spirituality.

Read More......

New Heights Minyan Info

Hello from the Underground...

Just wanted to let everyone know about a new Minyan taking place in Washington Heights. It'll be fun and warm so I hope that everyone and all of their friends can make it.

Here's the official Minyan Information:

Welcome to MigdalOr - the Lighthouse. We are a new minyan in Washington Heights that is a reflection of the growing progressive Orthodox spirit in our community.

Our mission is to create a warm, participatory environment dedicated to enhancing kavanah (devotion) and forward mindedness in tefillah (prayer), while working within the context of halakhah (Jewish law). Building upon this paradigm, our goal is to foster a spirit of social action within the larger context of Washington Heights. We challenge members to take an active role in their religious expression. This includes, but is not limited to, more participation by all members of the community.

We will be meeting Friday nights on a bimonthly basis. Services will include Minchah, Kabbalat Shabbat, and Maariv.

Our first meeting will take place on March 16th at 6:45 pm in 263 Bennett Ave. apt. 4F in the Fort Tryon Apartments Complex (the apartment of Rachel Berger, Rachel Scheier, and Shayna Gould). Prayer sheets will be available, and we will conclude with a small Kiddush.

Okay, that's the official info... I hope everyone is able to join us - I am really looking forward to this great excuse to see you all that weekend :)

If you want more info (or the same info) or have any questions, feel free to email us (Rachel Berger, Karen Shulman, and myself - Shani Simkovich) at MigdalOr.Minyan@gmail.com or visit us at our MySpace page.

Thanks, guys!

Read More......

New Exhibit

There’s really no need to go to the MET or the MOMA for the 900th time when you are in the mood for a museum, I'm continuously surprised by how many good, creative and almost unheard of cultural spaces the city has to offer. Latest discovery is El Museo del Barrio (on 5th Ave and 104th st.), this Latino cultural museum that is having an amazing new exhibit from now through June called “Los Desaparecidos,”or “The Disappeared.” Basically, in the last 40 years a number of totalitarian regimes in Argentina and other Latin-American countries went berserk and decided to kidnap, torture, shoot, push out of planes, and drown, literally thousands of their countries’ intellectuals and political dissenters (close to 30,000 in Argentina alone). The vast amount of people missing came to be known as the “disappeared,” and they left trembling and traumatized populations in their wake. It’s strange because having grown up in the shadow of the Holocaust, it’s hard for me to believe that so many educated, wealthy, free people could remain silent about a huge crime committed against them relatively recently. But thats begun to change, and thus a number of artists got together to collaborate on this traveling exhibit that vigorously tries to develop some kind of meaningful cultural idiom or language for remembrance. I think it’s really worth seeing, not only to feel educated or ethical, but because its so cool to see art in action-actively sensitizing people and helping them see and feel things they wouldn’t or couldn't have felt before.

The Argentinian case (known as the “The Dirty War” ) is especially eery because in some ways it functions as a disturbing postscript to the Holocaust. After World War II a number of high-ranking Nazi officials escaped to Argentina, some with the help of the U.S., because of their proven experience with fighting communism. A substantial number of Jewish refugees also landed in Argentina, and the Dirty War atrocities were often conducted with Nazi undertones, and directed against the country’s Jews alongside its political reformers. Scary to think that despite all the Holocaust commemoration that began to happen in the 1960’s (with the Eichman trial), concentration camps and torture facilities could be erected in Argentina in the 1970’s, and filled with a good number of Jews, without most of the world blinking an eye. Of course the cases are quite different as well, and looking at these things primarily through a Jewish lens is narrow and problematic, but the vividness and creativity of the exhibit serve as a terrific antidote to the kind of jadedness that repeated exposure to Holocaust memorials can engender. We needn't only construct hierarchies of suffering, different kinds of genocides require us to extend our sympathies in different directions, and there's no limit to it I think. So see the exhibit, and if you like, you can go across the street afterward to this beautiful part of Central Park that is also often overlooked.

Read More......

Inner Peace and Moving to the West Side

These should probably be two separate posts but what the heck, strained juxtapositions have never bothered me before, and I can’t decide which one to write first.

I really like the Heights, but last week an opportunity arose for me to move to a new apartment on the Upper West Side, and without putting much thought in to it, I decided to take it. Since then, I’ve had to explain to everyone I’ve spoken to why such an avowed Heights fan like myself would so spontaneously decide to double her rent and cut in half the amount of friends she has around her. My answer has changed depending on my mood, but the other night, when asked the question by one particular friend, I said that honestly living here has not given me the “deep satisfaction,” I have been craving, and I feel like a change will do me well. He looked at me strangely, and I immediately retracted my thoughts and said, “but of course, people are what really give you satisfaction and locations aren’t that important.” He kept on looking at me skeptically, so I asked “then where DOES that deep satisfaction come from?” and he paused and said, “It comes from yourself.” He was right of course, and the question of what inner reserves we have and when and how to draw on them has occupied much of my religious thinking this year, especially since I’ve gotten over my stupid, adolescent disdain for new-agey spirituality and come to appreciate many aspects of what it has to offer.

“Inner peace,” is the catchphrase I often use to refer to this ideal state of emotional equilbrium that does not, I hope, obscure life's complexities . Getting worried, getting upset, dwelling on past insults- these are emotions that I have learned have little to no real value in the world that I live in- and they are also things that I have learned I have the ability to control. I can think myself out of being hurt by someone, I can think myself out of getting annoyed at fellow Jews for their nonsensical theology, I can even think myself out of desperately wanting/needing certain things in my life- like romantic love, or clear goals for the future. I haven’t gotten to any of those points yet, but I CAN, I really do believe that, but what concerns me (concern-another emotion I can think myself out of) is that I won’t. I won’t let myself have “inner peace,” as my spontaneous move to the Upper West Side has demonstrated, because of a little known disease I was diagnosed with recently- its called FOMO- “Fear of Missing Out Syndrome.”

FOMO is something that mostly effects the young and immature, and tends to recede with age, and a certain degree of personal fulfillment. It’s characterized by an incessant fear that you need to be trying harder, regret you have not made the right choice, and cognizance of the numerous opportunities you will be missing out on by doing whatever it is you finally choose to do. It manifests itself in not being able to accept Shabbos meal invitations until the very last minute, ditching your good friends at crowded gatherings in favor of mingling, staying relatively unattached most of the time, and kind of miserable some of the time. FOMO has its upsides, and it can result in wild bouts of creativity, and energy to take risks. “Wanderlust” is a subset of Missing Out Syndrome, and so are some forms of social activism. Only people who hyperactively imagine alternative worlds and possibilities will actually go out and create them. It is also a great way to spur on academic and professional success- stresses and their accompanying endorphins (also symptoms of FOMO) can make us work harder just as they biologically help us escape oncoming prey. Missing Out Syndrome WORKS (at least some of the time), it puts you in situations you would like to be in. It also destroys your inner peace- and subjects you to grueling lows just as it teases you with thrilling highs. So which one is better?

In some ways the question is irrelevant. In many people’s lives stress will eventually give way to serenity- not serenity in the naïve, unsophisticated sense that is sometimes pushed upon us by religious institutions- but the mature kind of peace that comes after a real exploration of what feels wrong and painful and the realization that little can be done in the larger scheme of things. But I think that you can accelerate your path to that kind of serenity, and overshoot other life landmarks in the process. Like preemptively making peace with not being at the top of your profession and therefore not trying, or the accepting the futility of finding the perfect place to live or person to live with, and therefore also, not trying. Big highs are often related to some kind of delusion, so are deep lows. But inner peace, ah, I don’t know, sometimes it just seems kind of boring. Looking forward to having you all at my new place!

Read More......

Kinderlach

[Note: Apparently my former title includes a word that is an expletive in several countries, and has implications of sodomy. I really had no idea, but I think we will be safe with this one.]

I haven’t seen the recent movie “Children of Men,” but I have heard the premise: In a world where noone is able to have children, there is no hope, society disintegrates, and all hell breaks loose. On the one hand, this premise really resonates, so many of the things we build towards will only be fully realized in the future, and knowing that there is a future seems to matter to people, whether or not we plan on being reincarnated in it. On the other hand, it’s a difficult idea to wrap your head around, even if it feels intuitively true- why care about the future if you’re not living in it, seriously?

That’s actually not the point of my post, I always have trouble with this segue thing, lets try again: As I get a little bit older, the people I know get a little bit older too, and a couple of them, single woman to be exact, have in the past few years needed to reconcile themselves to the fact that they will probably never have children (with the draconian new adoption laws from China, they will probably never adopt either, but that’s another story.) Unlike in the movie “Children of Men,” hell has not broken loose, and these women have not sunk into the intense despair that our reproductively-obsessed Orthodox society would seem to doom them to. In trying to think about how they console themselves, I had to think about how or why having kids is so important to people to begin with, and I had surprisingly difficult time doing so.

Families rock, but you can be in a family for a very long time before creating your own. You can also do a lot of fun and interesting things without having kids, and those things can include intense, passionate love. People talk about “biological clocks ticking” and so on, but I actually don’t know what that means. Do people have instinctual drives to have sex or have kids-and in an age of birth-control, must we confuse the two? One very real reason I see around me and can relate to deeply is that people want children to give meaning and purpose to their lives. To give them something to live for, when professional ambitions, social networks, religious beliefs, even marriages, fall short. I think this very powerful, but it’s also a tad selfish-no? Not to mention short-sighted. Kids are their own people, and will eventually do their own thing. When thinking about these types of questions the first text I usually turn to is Kohelet (Ecclesiastes)-where the narrator, in his quest for the meaning of life, doesn’t even consider the possibility that is can be found in raising the next generation. He only really mentions children, or the “yeled hasheini asher ya’amod tachtav” (4:15) to demonstrate how useless we all are, our kids will replace us and forget all about us. So it’s really not so crazy, when you think about it, to reconcile yourself to a life without children. And it is crazy, unless you are in an unpopulated country or something, to make an a priori rule why it’s important to do so (although being taken care of when you are old may be a strong argument in favor).

The most reasonable approach I can imagine, sitting alone here in my bedroom on my laptop, is to do what feels right when it feels right. If you are at a stage in life when you feel like you should be producing and raising little bambinos then you should do so, and do it well, but if you miss that stage, or skip it, or avoid it entirely, then that can be ok too. Chaya Mushka Schneerson, the Lubavitcher Rebbe’s wife, never had children- and that makes us all her children. I didn’t mean that as a joke- I really think there are so many models for meaningful lives out there-and we so rarely, in our little bourgeois M.O. snow-globe (I may need a better word), attempt to think about them seriously. Maybe it’s too scary to think about life and family models that diverge too greatly from the paths we have laid out for ourselves- as if really thinking about it will make it happen. I think its silly, understanding how life can be rich and fulfilling without children can only make your appreciation and sense of realism about what children can bring you more sophisticated and more meaningful. It will make dealing with infertility, with kids who have mental disabilities, with children who leave home and never come back, all the more possible. And even if everything does work out as planned, it will turn ignorant pity into real sensitivity, which is always a good thing.

Read More......

Some Notes on Sadness and Satisfaction

Has anyone ever read the book The Diving Bell and the Butterfly by Jean-Dominique Bauby? It was a huge bestseller at some point, and I’d heard about it for a while, but I just read it Friday (its very short) and I still can’t think about anything else. Bauby, the talented editor-in-chief of a major French magazine, suffered a massive stroke in 1995 that left him entirely paralyzed with the exception of a little bit of movement in his left eye- something that is called “locked-in syndrome.” Fully conscious, for a while he was utterly trapped in his body, until someone devised a transcription system where he could blink out letters with his eye and thus compose this memoir. The result is this painful, painful, but achingly beautiful glimpse into this totally paralyzed man’s interior world, his jailcell as he calls it. I can’t overestimate how much I loved this book, but it’s hard for me to articulate why. A few possibilities come to mind and I think they apply to my general inclination towards these kinds of personal narratives of suffering. I mean I haven’t read anything like this before, but more and more, I am drawn to this kind of writing- Sylvia Plath , Anne Sexton, Holocaust writers like Paul Celan , Jean Amery and Primo Levi. But why do I like to read books that are so depressing? Obviously they are not making me depressed in the way that their authors feel, but then is there something wrong with me as a reader finding a kind of satisfaction in their anguish? It is an interesting question, I think, not what induces people to write traumatic narratives (I mean, that is an extremely interesting question, but it is not mine right now), but what compels not-traumatized people to read them.
So first, what do I like about Bauby?
1)The first thing people tend to say about good writing is that they relate. And I guess some of things Bauby talks about have correlatives to things I have experienced- loneliness and isolation, for example- imagining yourself in situations and relationships that can never exist again. Although once again, while I will imagine myself having an impossible relationship with someone who has died, Bauby is in a sense, the person who has died, and he thinks about the impossibility of ever touching or talking to his children again, even as they play right in front of him. The truth is, when it comes to these narratives of enormous physical and emotional suffering, any correlatives I draw to my own experience will be weak at best and self-centered and petty at worst.

2)Then there is the opposite extreme, the element of getting drawn out of yourself into this utterly foreign perspective. As sad as Bauby’s story is, he’s charting unexplored literary territory, and this insight into the unknown is exciting in a way.

3)It’s also really beautiful. The fact that someone in such a state of physical deterioration can narrate something so sublime makes you feel like there is something special, even transcendant, about human consciousness. Even the most downtrodden among us can have this brilliant, lucid, voice. It’s enough to give you faith in some kind of hashgacha, until you remember of course that it was that hashgacha that destroyed Bauby’s life in the first place (and let him die two days after the book was published).

4)But the sadness I think, still outweighs the exciting or redemptive qualities. And this gets me to my final point which is that painful things can be comforting in a way too. There is a line at the end of this poem by Anne Sextonthat we read at a meeting of “Poetry in the Heights” where she makes this observation about pain:

As for the pain and its multiplying teaspoon,
perhaps it is a medicine
that will cure the soul
of its greed for love
next Thursday.

A confrontation with a singular account of suffering can sometimes numb you to other desires that could possibly be a source of heartache. When I think about pain on the scale that Bauby experienced it, my various goals, and their fulfillment, just feel besides the point. There are much bigger things to worry about then the ins and outs of my teeny little social and academic worlds, and this can in some ways make me feel better, or at least calmer, although it undermines my ability to feel phenomenally happy as well. Although, there is an element to his story that makes me want to enjoy life while I can (I guess that would be #5)

Who knows, its probably a combination of all of these things, with different proportions at different times, or maybe the writing is just so good. But it’s interesting I think, why some people are so drawn to these stories of pain and suffering. It can’t just be because we are so saintly and magnanimous, although maybe that motivates people who don’t feel that same visceral pull. So what, if anything, do these sad stories do for us?

Read More......

Underground Heights: The Musical

Really its called "In the Heights," and I saw an ad for it in the subway today. Theres some music from it posted on MySpace, its hysterical- like a Latin/Rap infused Rent with excessive references to the 181st street subway elevator and the Domican Republic. It actually sounds kind of awful, but I dont care, I need to see it.

Listening to the songs, and understanding all of the references, made me realize how much of a cultural education Ive been given without even noticing it. Ok, maybe thats an overstatement, theres so much I don't know; but its nice to think that there has been value to living in the Heights besides for the pricetags and the Jewish ppl. That we are not necessarily only trading in the thriving culture of the UWS for a cheaper, heimish alternative. We have our own stuff, like Spanish, trees, loud music, exotic fruit, and the confidence that something flattering will be hollered to us (well some of us) at least once a day.More can be done to embrace the idiosyncracies of this fine town, and we should take advantage of it while we can.

Read More......

Slipping Through The Cracks

Hey everyone, its been a while. I was in Ireland for a part of winter break, which was very cool for lots of reasons, among them the fact that I may have underwent the most consecutive time away from Internet (not very long, I’ll admit) that I have in recent memory. In general, I think traveling is good for experimenting with your sense of self as it is transplanted to a new context. Its artificial of course, because wandering around Dublin for a week is definitely not the same thing as living there; but its a powerful project nevertheless- what can I cut myself off from and not mind, what do I miss so much that it makes the trip unbearable. The answers to those questions are rarely what I anticipate. When abroad, Judaism tends to occupy a far greater place in my psyche than I give it credit in New York, but conversely, certain social frustrations recede- for some reason in the face of the vast and complicated world the goal of finding one person to shack up with just seems less pressing. Everything feels less pressing actually, I think it’s because when I go away I am reminded that I am not the center of the world, even more so that I am basically irrelevant (although, to be fair, touring with someone as awesome as Ditty can definitely mitigate this concern).

Interesting that travel can lead to these two binary experiences: On one hand, this major affirmation of self- I, Sarah, can go anywhere, I can conquer Dublin, I can conquer the world! On the other hand, the more places I go, the more people I see who have no idea who I am, know nothing of the kind of world I come from, and could not care less. That latter feeling can even envelop me right here in the Heights, circulating through Mt. Sinai after davening, in those moments in between running into someone you’re friends with. My question I guess is what the best way to go about confronting that is. When I was in elementary school my greatest social fear was being disliked, made fun of etc… Now I do not worry about that so much, just because being mean at this age is just so stupid it’s not worth considering. What’s scarier to me at this point in my life is falling through the cracks, of my school, social network, community etc… It wouldn’t happen in my family, but I’m not with them all the time (maybe because I do need to feel somewhat anonymous at times), and I guess it wouldn’t happen if I started up my own family, but I’m nervous about going down that road for other reasons. It can and does happen in groups of friends, especially when so much value is placed on finding that one and only person so early on. You get a lot more noticed if you are on the radar for someone else, I think…

But all this talk sounds narcissistic. Life is not about being noticed. If I had a choice between going on an amazing all expenses paid world trip right now, or spending time with people who genuinely love me, I would probably go on the trip, even if it meant I would dissolve into every locale I visited. There is more to life than being paid attention to—there is spirituality, inner growth, all kinds of adventures, pleasures etc…And at the end of the day we are ultimately alone anyway. But there is this constant tugging in the direction of connectivity that so rarely gets quenched nowadays, especially as I engage in all this individualistic stuff, and I often wonder where I should be placing my emphasis. This is a pretty personal and vague topic but Id love to hear how other people navigate between these two poles- finding a way to be happy on your own, and trying to not be on your own. I think it’s hard to do both well, but then where should your energies go?

Read More......