Does an election still count as a coup?

Quite a few things have happened since November. First, the rabbi asked me to help lead Carlebach-style Kabbalat Shabbat services once a month. The old folks are still getting used to it, but they seem to like the peppiness. It takes about an hour and a half. We have wine tasting afterwards. So far it seems to be a hit (bringing in about 30 folks for a Friday night service, which is about 2-3 times the usual attendance).

I am still getting used to leading anything, much less prayer. I know enough to know I don't know all that much, but I figure that if people find it meaningful or enjoyable and it gets people in who otherwise wouldn't attend that it must be a good thing.

In related news, I was asked to join the Beth Elderly board and was almost unanimously elected (one old lady in the seat in front of me voted against, then immediately turned around and said "welcome aboard!")

I had my first board meeting on Monday. It took over two hours. Mrs. Yid called me afterwards to ask how it went. I wonder if "Jesus tapdancing Christ" was the most appropriate response.

There are now four of us young folks (30 and below), plus the rabbi who's in his late 30s. The rest of the board ranges from 50s to 80s. Needless to say, we are not all exactly on the same page. The young folks know the shul needs to find ways to attract new members. The outgoing President stirred up a big fuss when he proposed trying to make a new "Kehillah" consisting of several small shuls in town and moving under Temple Ol'Faithful's roof. While at the moment there seems to be very little enthusiasm about the idea from the Old Guard (one older board member, who I'll call Fishy, railed against each of the other small shuls, singling out B'nei Hippy in particular as "not even being a real synagogue!"), I think it's been invaluable in getting them all talking about how to keep the shul sustainable. The reality is whether we stay in our shteibl or find somewhere new, we need to be able to give people what they want and need, and folks like Fishy who think "everything is doing great" are kidding themselves if they think we're going to get anyone in the door with facilities that aren't ADA compliant and bathrooms that are older than me. At a bare minimum, we need to invest in our building, our infrastructure, and our programs. These are non-negotiable.

So, yeah, there's a little work to be done. I don't know how much I'll be able to help, but hopefully I can do some good. I'm not sure how I feel about becoming so entrenched within a community structure in such a short amount of time, but my hope is that we can help keep things going and maybe even bring some new blood and ideas into the shul.

For the cherry on top: Today I'm going to see an old friend from high school who asked me to officiate at his wedding. I've come quite a long way from the first time I opened up "Basic Judaism" 14 years ago.

P.S.

Masha the Meshugenner had a major melt-down in shul when the rabbiw as discussing shmita and the Jubilee and opened it up to comments from the crowd. She is fairly Republican and didn't like the idea of everyone losing their private property. Ezekiel, who is about as oblivious as Masha to opinions other than his own, said he thought it was a nice connection to the modern-day green movement and then shot her response down by saying that the synagogue was no place for political arguments. Masha got super pissed, stormed out cursing, and then milled back and forth in the back for another 20 minutes before calming down and doing a hora with the kids during L'Dor V'Dor.

The moral of the story? Maybe certain shul members should only be allowed to talk to the rabbi, not each other.

Putting in the Work

Since last we spoke, there have been quite a few developments in our relationship with Beth Elderly. First of all, this Young Guard Havdalah thing has been a modest but regular success, which is a big deal for us, given that we usually fail to stick with things, and particularly given that the demographics of Beth Elderly are strongly against a YGH having a sizable enough turnout to regularly perpetuate itself. Yes, numbers have trickled off following the inaugural Havdalah night, but the smaller group has allowed Mrs. Yid and I (ok, I'll be honest, it's mostly me) to get over a lot of our initial shyness. Hanging out with Abraham, Sarah and Batsheva the President's Daughter (TM) has helped a lot. It's also been nice because now we have some friendly faces (and the names to go with them) we can seek out at shul if there's a lull in social interaction.

Some good/fun news first:

• As mentioned before, YGH has been going well. Your humble correspondent even played host to the gang this last time around-- and did it solo, to boot, since Mrs. Yid's store is starting to make her work crazy hours again. Fun times were had by all (particularly when I added the shot of Bacadri 151 to the Havdalah wine after pouring it out so that the candle made a pretty flame).

• We have started going to Beth Elderly's Kabbalat Shabbat services and monthly potlucks again. Davening quality continues to vary; the rabbi keeps trying livelier Carlebach tunes, and while his heart is in the right place, his voice really isn't. Still, despite the Friar's better/critical nature, I have started to steel myself against griping about it every time and instead am doing my best to carry the room with what my wife says is a halfway decent voice.

• I went to a Lag B'Omer BBQ at the rabbi's house solo and didn't turn into a pillar of salt.

• I took a month-long Tanakh class (also solo) taught by the rabbi's wife and had a lot of fun and even learned a few new insights into the text (biggest take away for the book of Ruth: how pure are Naomi's intentions when she sends her daughters-in-law away? The rabbi's wife, for one, not so sure). Again, despite being a little nervous to do this alone, it worked out just fine, and now I have a few new names for my mental rolodex (sorry, that's dated, isn't it? I meant my mental contacts list).

And now for (a little) griping! Just because it wouldn't be TCfS without it.

• Figure out this singing thing, please!

This may be unfair since rabbis and cantors are two separate professions, but I really wish the rabbi would either go to a few Carlebach services/listen to some tunes online as a refresher, or ask someone in the congregation to help him out with this. Because, honestly, it's hard enough to get the kavannah going with the old dirgey stuff without having not very good Carlebach on top of it.

• Random people have nothing better to do but come talk to me, apparently.

There is one lady in her late 50s who I'll name Masha the Meshuggener who is always rambling about something. The first time we met her, it was that there was nowhere for her to shop that she liked. We offered various suggestions and she shot each of them down. "That one mistreats its workers. That one doesn't have a union. That one isn't organic. I'd die before I shopped there!" Luckily we had other people at our table to talk to, so we did. I wasn't as lucky at Lag B'Omer, however. Masha came up to my table and started complaining at me. Apparently her day canvassing the neighborhood for petition signatures was tiring. I reached deep into my soul and resisted the urge to either run away or make small talk. I just wasn't going to engage. I had a beer, I could just tune her out. I managed to keep that up for about a good 15 minutes, while she ranted about city council this and local opposition that and some political opponent of hers who wasn't as good as her and about how there should be a law about pre-requisite political experience, though apparently that wasn't an issue when the President got elected so why should it matter now...

That's right, people. Even in San Francisco, even among the crunchiest of the crunchy, you can find old Jewish ladies with an Obama axe to grind. Viva diversity, I guess?

It was at that point that Masha became interested in my drink. She wanted to know what it was. As it happened, it was a nice ale produced by one of my favorite Canadian-influenced breweries. She wanted to mix a shot of it with her organic apple juice. Since I had only brought so many bottles, my first instinct was to be annoyed, but then I remembered that Unibroue's beers are about 9% ABV, more than twice that of a standard beer like Guinness or Newcastle. So I figured, if I can't make Masha stop talking, at least I can make her entertaining. I poured her a good solid shot and she liked it so much she had me save her another one for later. Unfortunately she didn't become any more entertaining, and even after I left the table and sat by the bonfire to make room for lots of young families she insisted on following me, helpfully recalling all her bitter and tragic memories relating to fireplaces and the contents therein (I am not making this up; I heard about this lady's inheritance and how it connected with fireplaces).

Also at Lag B'Omer, a 90-year-old Russian guy came up to me with a photocopied pamphlet he had written extolling the virtues of veganism. At a meat BBQ. Oh-kay. When he ran out of pamphlets, the older gentleman stood in the middle of the rabbi's backyard singing O Solo Mio, followed by a few old Yiddish songs. Since he was surrounded by mommies and grand-mommies who have long since lost any critical thinking abilities, every time a song ended their response was to manically clap and yell, "Yay, yay!" as if they had just seen a two-year-old blow out a birthday cake. Which is funny, because after Old Man Veganism finished, a mother dragged her 7-year-old up, brought out his music stand, violin and songbook (which they had just happened to bring?) and he performed an impromptu concert. Again, the "Yaying" crowd wouldn't stop, so the kid just kept going, probably for close to half an hour. The whole time his mom was sitting a foot away from him in a folding chair, taping the whole thing on her iPhone. I'm not saying the kid wasn't talented, I just don't know that I really needed to know the jazzy version of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star."

• Something is personally inconvenient to me!

Your shul is in the middle of nowhere and when I get there early for Tanakh class there is nowhere to sit or hang out that doesn't result in me being blown around by gale force winds like a rag doll. Not really Beth Elderly's fault, but still, yesterday I wound up spending an hour and a half reading my book under a bush like a hobo just to get out of the wind. And then I had to shlep home after. It was lame. Worth it, but still lame.

Despite all this, though, it's become quite clear to me that Beth Elderly is the only shul that's ever really felt welcoming to us, and even though things there aren't perfect (as the grass-stains on my pants can attest), we feel pretty sure that our next big step will be to formally join the shul. Which, as no one in my family (besides Uncle Milt) has been official members of anything Jewish in over 40 years, is kind of a big deal. Even though there are things I'd like to change there, and even though we may be leaving the city in a few years, I've finally realized what everyone has been saying to me: if you want a community, you have to work at it. If you want things to be better, you have to participate. That's what a community is. So, fine. I'm game. Let's keep the momentum going.

This weekend: Shavuot!

Building Bridges

Our adventures with the Not-So-Elderly from Beth Elderly continue! This month we had Young Adult (defined as under 40) Havdalah at another couple's home. The rabbi and his wife brought their two kids, which was fun for a while, but got pretty chaotic pretty fast (one and three years old are not ideal ages for hanging out multiple hours after sun-down). Aside from that, there were a handful of young folks we had met last time. We did Havdalah, chatted about the shul, and just generally spent time getting to know each other. Mrs. Yid and I wound up staying past midnight talking with the host couple Abraham and Sarah about their practice and journeys with Judaism. As a fellow young couple of eclectic religious background and practices it was a lot of fun to trade stories and experiences without feeling that we were weirding each other out. (Abraham was raised Episcopalian, eventually found out he was halachically Jewish through his maternal grandmother, and spent time at college Hillel, Reform Judaism, Chabad and Evil Minion before finding Beth Elderly; Sarah is a practicing Catholic and the two of them are active in both communities-- very busy weekends!) Compared to them, Mrs. Yid and my religious affiliation and practice are almost uncomplicated, something we haven't felt in... ever?

There have been a few times over the past ten or fifteen years when I made a close friendship that wound up having a big impact on my Jewish education and practice. The first was in high school, when I found my first Jewish friend that was religious enough that he could at least take me to High Holiday services at his shul. The second was in college, when my best friend and roommate was a rabbi's kid and really knew what she was doing, and gave me the anchoring I needed to take the things I had been learning from books and putting them into practice. With these new friends, I feel like there's the potential to have some fellow travelers who understand the challenges of wanting to take a tradition seriously (or at least more seriously than not at all) while not being judged for the choices you ultimately make or don't make.

Here's hoping that our new acquaintance with Abraham and Sarah will turn into a long friendship-- and maybe encourage us to take our path(s) as seriously as they do theirs.

And also that next time, the rabbi and his wife will get a baby-sitter.

Darkness and Light

In Parsha Bo we hear about the plague of darkness. The Etz Hayim has an interesting commentary. If the darkness was only a lack of physical light, it says, couldn't people have just used candles? This question, while kind of bizarre, leads to an intriguing suggestion: the darkness could also have had psychological, emotional or spiritual dimensions. While I'm not sure I buy that reading in the context of the text, I think lots of people can relate to emotional darkness-- whether feeling like you've fallen into an abyss, or just struggling with general dissatisfaction.

I've been feeling some of the latter lately, and though it may sound overdramatic, I absolutely agree with designating it as a "plague." If life is supposed to be about joy and satisfaction, not having those things can definitely feel like a curse or affliction. It sucks when things suck, not just because bad things are happening, but also because they have a way of creeping in and nullifying, or at least diminishing, the good stuff. Etz Hayim quotes the Midrash connecting the Darkness/Light metaphors with Heaven and Hell: "Just as the light of Shabbat is a foretaste of the world to come... the darkness of the ninth plague is a foretaste of Gehinnom..." Powerful imagery for people engaged in an intellectual examination of depression, though I don't think I'd use it to cheer someone up.

The hardest part of our practice these days is how inconsistent things are, and that mostly has to do with us still not having found a community we really connect with. Mrs. Yid's schedule continues to be pretty crazy, and I spend most Shabbats alone. It's hard to be consistent when I'm missing my partner in crime (and Yiddishkeit). Most of the time we're too busy to really notice it, but it still pops up from time to time-- for me, particularly when I have to spend Shabbat alone, but also on the rare occasion where we wind up doing a lot of Jewish social stuff.


This week is a great example. This week my cousin came from Israel on a speaking tour and invited us to come hear her talk. We met her beforehand, had dinner, and then went to the event. Despite the fact that initially I was rather anxious about meeting new people, things actually turned out totally fine. I even had a chance to talk Israeli politics/anthropology with a few folks.

At the end of the night, my cousin mentioned she was going to be spending Shabbat speaking at a synagogue in the East Bay, Beth Funny Name to be Determined. Mrs. Yid and I have been interested in checking out BFNtbD for a while now but haven't made it across the bay, and I mentioned I would try to check it out.

But then I remembered that Mrs. Yid was working that day. As soon as I realized that I would have to go alone, I got a sick feeling in my stomach. It festered over the next few days, and I realized that even though I wanted to go there and see her speak... I was also kind of terrified of going by myself. And that feeling didn't go away, even after talking about it multiple times. I kept waffling back and forth about "maybe I could go," and then retreating. And every time, I was also beating up on myself for this even being an issue in the first place. I didn't wind up going, and I was pretty irritated with myself.

The week didn't end too badly, though. My cousin was chatting with some of her rabbinical colleagues and remembered that we had spent some time at Beth Elderly a few years ago. It turned out that the new-ish rabbi there was organizing a young adult Havdalah. Would we like to come?

Going to services alone at a shul where I've never been before is tough. Trying to chat up random strangers in a super crowded room after services at Evil Minion is tough. But a few young adults at the rabbi's house? This, I can do. So I said yes, and we went, and things actually were really, really nice. It turns out that since we stopped going the new rabbi has been working hard to encourage more young people, and they're now experimenting with more Carlebach stuff in their services, as well as trying to make more opportunities for the young folks to meet and hang out outside of shul, too.

This was like music to my ears. One young married couple-- who had also gone to Evil Minion many times and found it really hard to meet anyone-- had even joined the board!

As with anything involving Jews, there were things that weren't perfect. Mrs. Yid had several wardrobe malfunctions and had to battle the city's various inept transportation systems and wound up coming late. There wasn't much for me to eat because no one knew my food allergies. There were people there who I wouldn't choose as my best friends (did you know Canada has bad weather? Now I do, too. In excruciating detail.) But all those things actually had a bright side. I had to go in and schmooze for an hour with strangers by myself, something I had all but convinced myself I was incapable of doing. I got to see that there are plenty of other young-ish people out there with worse social skills than me. (I'm only moderately awkward! Go team!) And the fact that I didn't get much food gave us an excuse to go out for dinner afterwards to celebrate.

On the way home, I told Mrs. Yid that I had just had an epiphany.

"It's terrible!"

"What?"

"I think... your Dad may be right."

"About what?"

"About that stupid Gandhi quote he likes so much. 'Be the change you want to see in the world.'"

"How?"

"I think it means... we can't spend all our time banging our heads into the wall trying to shoehorn ourselves into someone else's community... if there's a place that's welcoming to us, and they're trying to grow their young members... maybe what we need to do is get involved, and build it into the kind of community we want to have."

"Funny, I feel like I've only been saying this for the last five years."

I love my wife.

Mrs. Yid and I have talked a lot about anxiety this week, and we've concluded that my anxiousness about talking to people may be a bit beyond the norm-- and that it may be something worth looking into with a therapist. Plenty of people in both our families take anti-anxiety and anti-depression meds, so it's not out of the question that I might have some funky brain chemistry going on, too.

But maybe it's also that, given the choice, I'd rather meet people in small doses. Maybe it's about needing to not bite off more than I can chew.

Even though this has been a really tough week, I'm starting to feel hopeful. There's a little more light in the tunnel.

It's nice to know we have options. It's important to remember that there is a community that has continually welcomed us, without pressure and without preconditions. And it's fantastic that there seems to be the seeds of a change happening there where all the pressure won't be on us to save the shul.

So who knows, maybe by this time next year, I'll have a new name for Beth Elderly. Maybe Beth Median (math joke!) Maybe Beth Boardwalk (it's by the beach).

Or maybe, Home.