Grandparents Day

In preparing the few words that I would say to greet the grandparents this morning on Grandparents Day at the school, I thought about the words of the Talmud that “one’s grandchildren and great-grandchildren are considered like one’s own children.”  Who would dispute this?  It is evident that the love for one’s own children transfers naturally to the next generation, and in seeing the smiles, the happiness, and the excitement on the faces of the grandchildren today, it is clear that the love flows the other direction, as well.

Yet we all know that the relationship between grandparents and grandchildren in reality differs from the relationship between parents and children.  In most cases, the interactions are more occasional…and in that respect, more special.  The daily routines (changing diapers, doing homework, making your kids eat their vegetables, etc.) are so much at the core of the parent-child relationship and these are usually much less relevant to the grandparent-grandchild relationship (for which the grandparents are quite happy!)

When it comes to school, the same distinction applies.  Grandparents typically do not worry about what occurs on Tuesday, November 22 or on Monday, February 5…the details of particular days and particular interactions are of much less interest to grandparents because they are one step removed.  Grandparents reflect upon who their grandchild is–how does he/she behave? How well do they daven?  How excited are they to talk about politics, math or science?  How much do they enjoy learning Torah?  How happy are they with their peers?  Because they do not know what happens every single day, their questions and their interests are often ones with a broader and more long-term perspective.

Indeed, this perspective, which is a lot like seeing the forest through the trees, is often difficult for us as parents to internalize.  We are so involved in our children’s lives (generally, a very good thing) that it is sometimes hard for us to ignore the small bumps in the road and to recognize them for what they are: small–and usually inevitable–bumps, indeed.

So on this special day, I want to thank the grandparents–and their contagious enthusiasm for the school–for helping all of us remember the broader perspective.  This is a really wonderful place to learn and grow as a Jewish child, and even as each one of us as parents has to deal with small obstacles, we can also take the time to appreciate just how much our children have developed over time…just as their grandparents do all of the time!

Yom Ha-Zikaron

“If you have never experienced the darkness, you cannot appreciate the shafts of light”

The truth of this quote, from the mother of two sons who died as soldiers in the IDF five years apart, is almost too painful to acknowledge.  It is through the ultimate sacrifice of more than 22,000 Israeli soldiers and citizens that we get to enjoy the benefits of a Jewish homeland…and that we are able to appreciate more deeply the wonder and miracle that is the modern state of Israel.

Today is Yom Ha-Zikaron, Israel’s Memorial Day, and it is a day to feel that darkness more acutely than any other day.  The mother’s quote above, read aloud by Israeli Col. Eli Ben-Meir in today’s memorial ceremony, brings home the quintessential Israeli attitude towards sacrifice.  While as a nation, Israel has suffered more than any other developed country since the end of World War II, she has also demonstrated a resilience like no other.  It is a privilege and an honor to serve in the IDF and while every parent prays desperately for the safe return of their children, they are also, more often than not, proud (as well as heartbroken) when their children do not return because they were killed safeguarding the people, land and state of Israel.

Today’s ceremony also showed a short clip about Michael Levin, the young man from Philadelphia from a non-religious home who made aliyah on his own, joined the IDF, and lost his life in the fighting in Lebanon six years ago.  When his parents arrived for his funeral and were wondering whether they would even have a minyan since they knew so few people in Israel, they were stunned to find more than a thousand people at the cemetary, paying their respects to a soldier who died so far from home, so much alone.  Israelis understand how unusual this is, for a young man to leave his home in America to fight for an adopted homeland, to die for its protection.  In what other country in the world does this happen?

Yom ha-Zikaron is a time to recognize the sacrifices of those, whether born in Israel or not, have allowed us to enjoy Yom Ha-Atzmaut and the state of Israel.  Yehi zichram baruch.

Observations from Annapolis (Mock Trial State Semi-finals)

In an austere courtroom in Annapolis, Chen Agassi rose to present her opening statement to the presiding judge in the prosecution of Drew Hunter, soccer coach for the fictional Abraham Lincoln High School.

So began the trial of Ms. Hunter, who was accused of reckless endangerment and child abuse for running an overly long practice on a hot and humid day in August and causing damage to one of her players who had collapsed.

The rules and scoring of Mock Trial competitions are a bit arcane, but the basics of the competition involve a court case, in this instance the prosecution of a soccer coach, with one side taking the side of the prosecution and the other taking the side of the defense. Three lawyers represent each side and call three witnesses for each side and each one is judged by the scorers, with the total tally determining the winner.

As the trial proceeded, the nerves of our team members were evident, but so was their poise and grace under pressure. They were articulate, composed, at times dogged, at times deferential, always quick on their feet.

They were also facing a formidable foe, students from the Friends School in Baltimore. Clearly, the students from Friends were no less prepared, no less experienced, no less poised. In the midst of the trial, one sees polished professionals and completely forgets that these pros are teenagers. It is truly astounding.

With such highly skilled teams, it was impossible to tell which team was ahead by the end of the brilliant closing remarks by prosecutor Jonah Rosen. And for the family, friends and teachers of the students, the fifteen minute wait while scores are being tallied is excruciatingly long…and I can only imagine what the players must have felt.

The beautiful drama that unfolded before us in the courtroom didn’t really deserve a winner and a loser…but such are the rules of the competition which gives us such a drama.

In announcing the winners, the judge lauded the participants and wished that the kids could instruct actual lawyers on how to distill complex facts into clear and cogent arguments within a short amount of time. Incredible.

Two years ago, I watched as our kids graciously accepted a close defeat to an excellent opponent. Tonight, I watched as our kids just as graciously accepted a close and hard-fought win. Congratulations to our Mock Trial team and on to the finals tomorrow morning at 10 a.m.!!

A message for Pesach

A long time ago, I read a book for one of my American history courses that challenged the conventional wisdom that slavery was bad for the slaves in the pre-Civil War South.  Living conditions were often better than they were for free blacks, the claim went, abuse was rare, hours were reasonable, relations between the blacks and their masters were usually quite positive, and, the book concluded, the material well-being of blacks took a nose-dive following their emancipation.

“Did the author really understand slavery?” I remember thinking at the time.  Even if the facts were true (which was highly debatable), can you really equate freedom to material well-being?  Didn’t the authors miss the point about what it means to be a free person?

Throughout history, human beings have put up with tremendous hardships, degradation and risks to achieve freedom—a sense that we have some control over our lives, for better and, occasionally, for worse.  Freedom does not mean that we can do whatever we want, of course, and our fate is not entirely in our hands, but we can and do make choices and help to control the course of our lives as well as our reaction to events around us.

One of the most fundamental aspects of slavery is the lack of control over one’s time.  You are always on, either actually or potentially, and at no point are you free from a sense that you can be called upon to do someone else’s work.  The loss of freedom means that you can never fully be your own person and that you can never have your own time.   New parents reading this are probably nodding with recognition.  One day, they are in control of their lives, their space and their time…and the next day, they are completely beholden to the schedule and needs of another.  Fortunately, for parents this relationship constantly develops and matures and is often a joy…unlike that of an actual slave.

As with slaves, time plays a big role in Pesach—flour and water that ferments for 18 minutes remains kosher for Passover…but after the 18^th minute it becomes chametz.  A roll that today is kosher is no longer kosher by mid-day on Friday.  The seder must begin after sundown…but the Afikoman must be eaten before the middle of the night.  Pesach reminds us that there are external demands on our time, whether halakhic or familial.  Still, the emphasis on freedom also reminds us that, fundamentally, we are not controlled by the 18 minutes of the matzah or the timing of the seder or the scheduled start of morning minyan.  These restrictions help to create our environment, an environment that is certainly not “free” from all commitments, but in the end, they do not take away our fundamental freedom of self—that we are capable of being ourselves, controlling the use of our time, and, perhaps most importantly, establishing our own relationship with the G-d who took us out from Egypt, whether we are 5, 15, 45, or 95. 

Pesach is a perfect time for each one of us to take stock of our own freedom, our own sense of an independent self, and our own relationships, both with G-d and with others.  In considering the alternative, we can truly appreciate the deep meaning of this freedom.

With best wishes for a happy, meaningful and reflective Pesach.

 

Wrap up to the National Gallery of Art visits

I’d like to share what might seem like a relatively small item, but one that speaks extremely well of our kids and our teachers.  Below in italics) is an email from the woman in charge of the docents at the National Gallery of Art to Mrs. Koss.  We also received a completely unsolicited voice mail from one of the docents topday, in which she said the following:  “The fourth grade class came to the Gallery of Art today:they asked questions, they were polite, respectful, imaginative–thank you for bringing your students to the Gallery today.” 

I am so pleased that our students had the opportunity to expand their horizons by visiting the National Gallery this year.  (Thank you goes to Rena Fruchter, Director of the Deborah Lerner Gross Jewish Cultural Arts Center.)  I am almost equally pleased at the wonderful feedback we heard about our kids’ behavior, inquisitiveness, and thoughtfulness: a living testament to our core values of Derech Eretz, Acharayut and Chochmah.

Dear Mrs. Koss,

I just wanted to tell you how wonderful the 4^th graders were today at the Gallery on their Every Picture Tells a Story tour. They really were a credit to the school. All the docents were really impressed by how engaged and thoughtful the students were and what great questions they asked. The students seemed equally enthusiastic, which is always a good sign. The students bought some of their writing work back with them which I hope you have an opportunity to see.

I think, at this point, we have served every grade in the lower and middle school this year besides 3^rd grade, which is really fantastic. Thank you to Rena Fruchter to putting this all together. I hope we can continue this next year.

Purim message

Descriptions of a decadent, profligate party with the best of tapestries and vessels, with obscene amounts of food and wine, lasting nearly half a year. …what a strange way to start a book of Tanakh!

Like any good story, the opening to Megilat Esther prefigures the events to come.  From the lavish merriment at the beginning comes a tale of vengeance, murder and intrigue that ends with the tables turned upon the evil Haman and his nefarious plot.  The intended victims become conquerors, the conquerors victims and the theme of “ve-nahafoch hu”, of everything turning upside down, prevails throughout the holiday of Purim.

The tale of reversal goes much deeper than the salvation of a people doomed to die.  Beginning with the very first verses in the Megilah, we see a culture that seems to know no limitations, no restrictions.  If the king wanted a party such as never existed before, so be it.  Who would tell him otherwise?

However, the story demonstrates that such wanton partying comes with a cost.  Decisions are made under the influence of food and alcohol that are rash and foolish.  Vashti, the queen, is the one character who shows some sense of discipline in refusing to be paraded in front of the partiers and she pays for it with her life.  Worried about the possible ramifications for women throughout the kingdom, the king’s advisor convinces him to kill Vashti, a decision the king later regrets.

The stunning absence of limitations displayed in the opening chapter contrasts sharply with the discipline which Judaism imposes upon us.  The mitsvot require us to consider G-d before eating, to refrain from certain foods and drink, to rest on Shabbat and holidays.  Discipline becomes a hallmark of a life governed by the observance of G-d’s mitsvot.  Even within the Megilah, one sees that Esther’s preparation to approach to the king involves a regimen of fasting and prayer, quite a striking contrast to the unbridled revelry representative of the Persian court culture.

An undisciplined life leads to extreme selfishness, lack of caring and shocking waste.  Ahasverosh’s parties had food and wine flowing without stop and, says the Megilah, every man’s wishes were fulfilled.  How, in such a setting, can one think of the world outside of oneself, of caring for others and respecting one’s environment?

Today, more than two thousand years after the infamous Shushan parties, we recognize that our natural resources and our environment cannot stand such waste and profligacy.  The disciplined life, the life of mitsvot demands of us to think about our impact on our surroundings and to act responsibly.  Here at the Melvin J. Berman Hebrew Academy, we take these responsibilities very seriously, from our recycling to our investment in wind power to our record-setting solar panel installment on our roof.  This year’s theme for Mishloach Manot proudly reinforces our commitment to our environment and to responsible behavior.  It is one way that we can show that the forces of good truly prevailed over the forces of darkness in the story of Purim.

Wish best wishes for a happy, healthy and responsible Purim

Snow in Yerushalayim

I arrived in Israel on Thursday morning. Since that time, it has not stopped raining…except when it began to snow on Friday morning; big, wet, heavy snowflakes that made Jerusalem seem for a few moments like my hometown of Boston. What a strange, surreal scene.

As I was walking home this afternoon in the pouring rain…with no umbrella because it was Shabbos and only my trusty (and overworked) parka to keep me “dry”…and after three days of stepping in puddles and rivelets, desperately trying to dry off pants and shirts, wiping the rain off my glasses and my face…it was getting to be a challenge seeing the rain that we pray for in the shmoneh esreh as a blessing. But then I remembered the level of the Kineret that we saw last summer on our family vacation, the disappearing Dead Sea, and the ever increasing population that needs clean and safe drinking water, and it was enough to remind me that a few days of inconvenience was well worth it for the greater good of Israel, which, as the Torah reminds us frequently, relies entirely on the fickleness of the weather (or perhaps the more methodical planning of G-d) for sustenance, unlike many other countries (particularly Egypt) which have rivers and late bodies of water as sources of water.

Now, if I had forgotten to pack my waterproof Rockports, I might be singing a different tune…