This week on FaithHacker we're excited to welcome guest blogger Getzel Davis.  Getzel is, among other things, an environmental rock star, a former ADAMAH fellow, and pretty much the nicest guy I know.  To start things off I sent him some tough questions, and to no one's surprised, he totally rocked them. -TF

What kind of work are you doing now, and how does it fit into your spiritual journey?

I work for the Teva Learning Center as a Jewish environmental educator. Every week I get a new batch of 6th grade day school students to try to inspire. We go off into the woods every day and practice feeling radical amazement in nature. After a week of group bonding and ecology lessons, I get to sit down with each child and school to help them brainstorm ways to make the world a healthier and happier place.

What's your favorite spiritual practice? Why?

My favorite spiritual practice at the moment is mikvah. It sounds a hokey, but time I get out of a mikvah, I physically feel spiritually cleansed (even if I am covered in muck from the lake). This year, to prepare for Yom Kippur, I dunked forty-nine times for the forty nine levels of spiritual impurity that people of capable of. When I got out, it felt like I was already at Neilah, the last service of Yom Kippur, when we are finally forgiven of our sins. I went through all the motions of Yom Kippur already knowing that I had been forgiven. It was incredibly powerful.

What's a Jewish ritual that really doesn't speak to you? Why?

Stoning gay people. I can’t imagine a compassionate G!d really wanted us to stone two consenting adults who love each other.

What's your favorite Jewish text to study and why?

My favorite text is the Mei Hashiloach by the Izbitzer Rebbe. Despite the fact that the Izbitzer was a leader of a chassidic ultra-orthodox Jews, half of his discourses are about the flawed nature of Jewish law. His radical theology allows for certain people at certain times to do perform acts contrary to normative Jewish law. This book is a great tool for anyone struggling personally with questions of halachic obligation.

What's a social justice issue that's really important to you and why?

I believe that the greatest issue facing humanity is global warming. Rising oceans and desertification of the land scare the shit of me. The solutions are not going to be easy things like recycling or buying hybrid cars (although both are great). The only way humanity will be able to avoid an incredibly ominous future is by radically changing how we consume things. We need to start holding producers responsible not only for the safety of a product while we own it, but also the impacts of its creation what happens to it after it has been thrown “away.”

Continue reading...

Sukkot is my favorite holiday. I love all harvest festivals (I’m also a Thanksgiving sucker) and the rustic autumn colors and smells of fall that we get during sukkot. I love eating in tight quarters with guests, and sukkah hopping in my super-frum Chicago neighborhood, where on some blocks every house has a sukkah. And I even love eating in the cold and the rain and the dark, and sleeping outside on wet grass.
Sukkot: Be Happy..Or else!
The thing about sukkot, though, is that by the time I’ve gotten through Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur, I’m already emotionally and spiritually exhausted. And along comes a week long holiday that ends up feeling overwhelming more often than not. There’s so much going on, so much planning and cooking and building and decorating to do—it can feel like work.

But you know what’s great about sukkot? One of the main commandments going with the holiday is to be happy. Check out the JPS translation of Deut 16:13-15:

After the ingathering from your threshing floor and your vat, you shall hold the Feast of booth for seven days. You shall rejoice in your festival, with your son and daughter, your make and female slave, the Levite, the stranger, the fatherless and the widow in your communities. You shall hold a festival for the Lord your God seven days in the place that the Lord will choose; for the Lord your God will bless all your crops and all your undertakings and you shall have nothing but joy.”

Nothing but joy, people!

We’re supposed to rejoice with all of these random people, everyone from the highest to the lowest members of our community, and we’re supposed to have nothing but joy. (For more on this commandment, see Rabbi Rosen's blog).

Normally the commandments to feel a certain way annoy me, but I surrender to sukkot. On sukkot I laugh and sing zmirot and hang out with old and new friends. Nothing but joy is a tall order, but if there’s anything worth aspiring to, it’s that, right?

Here’s wishing you and your families nothing but joy, through sukkot and well into the New Year.

Today is Hoshana Raba, the last day of sukkot. During davening this morning we parade around the Torah seven times with our lulav and etrogs, and then we take the willow branches and beat the crap out of them, snapping them against the ground until all the leaves fall off. Later we’re supposed to have one last festive meal in the sukkah before the holiday officially ends.
Willow Says: beat me
But my favorite part about Hoshana Raba is that it’s our very last chance to get sealed in the book of Life. Even though we go through the whole song and dance on Yom Kippur about how the book is being sealed and we have to be written in it by the time the shofar is blown…or else—midrash says that actually we’ve got until tonight to finish our repenting. Some sources say you’ve got until Hanukkah! So if you’ve already fallen off your New Year’s resolution wagon, climb right back on, my friend. Jews are all about second chances (or seventh, or, you know, eighty-forth).

Then tonight starts the last of the three-day holidays this season. We’ve got Shmini Atzeret tomorrow, Simchat Torah on Friday, and regular old Shabbat taking up the rear. I know it’s hard to keep up momentum with all this craziness going on, but there are still some things to get psyched about.
Best. Whiskey. Ever.: (Seriously)
First of all, who doesn’t love seeing all the liquor come out at shul? I think it’s kind of weird, but mostly awesome. If you’re a whiskey drinker (and really, you should be, if you aren’t already) I highly recommend William Larue Weller, 15 year old bourbon. This is the whiskey that God drinks, people. If anything will make you love the Torah, it’s Weller.

Also, I’m a big fan of watching the differences between the dancing on the two sides of the mechitza. What I’ve noticed is that women do actual dances with actual steps, and men just kind of skip. If you’re not into the dancing, but you feel awkward standing on the sidelines I say go right in and grab a Torah. You basically kind of sway and walk in a circle, but it looks like you’re very involved in the action that way, and you don’t have to get sweaty.Interpretive Dance: doesn't belong in shul, if you ask me. Perfect. For an interesting JPost article on Orthodox women dancing with Torahs, click here.

Shmini Atzeret doesn’t do much for me, but we do say Yizkor and tefilat geshem, the prayer for rain, which is really pretty. (For more on rain, sukkot and praying for moisture, see this post that I wrote over Passover.) We also say the farewell to the sukkah prayer, which is all cute:

May it be Your will, God, our God and the God of our forefathers, that just as I have fulfilled the mitzvah and dwelt in this sukkah, so may I merit in the coming year to dwell in the sukkah of the skin of the Leviathan.

Leviathan: Yummy?
The skin of the Leviathan?? Yep. There’s a long complicated story in the Talmud (Bava Batra 74-75) about things that will happen once the Messiah comes, and one of them is that the Leviathan will fight this giant mythical Ox creature, the Behemoth. The two beasts will kill each other at the same time, and then their skin will be used to make a sukkah where the righteous people of the world will eat a big feast of their meat. And what could be more fun than a performative battle of mythical creatures concluding with eating meat while sitting under their carcasses?

Here’s hoping the next few days are fun and carcass free. Chag Sameach!

And, that's the newsRabbi Avraham Shapira (Z"L) has died in Jerusalem and was buried at Mount of Olives. (Dig one of his books here.) Here, a Baltimore woman reflects on the life of Marcel Marceau (b. Moishe Mangel), who was the son of a kosher butcher who was killed at Auschwitz. The Carolina Center for Jewish Studies got a million bucks from a few mensches. Russian town of Dzerzhinsk held its first-ever bris, Jewish soldiers in Iraq get their lulav and etrog going just in time, the EEOC is suing a Reno Chevy dealer, alleging whopper discrimination against Jewish employee Jack Adler, Israel's national water company has opened its doors to the public during Sukkot for tours, MOTs and evangelical Latinos get down in the Sukkah and a flamenco dance troupe is kickin' it Jew-style in LA, Serbia prohibits neo-Nazi march, the Days of Awe go over really well in Ho Chi Minh City, and, and, and Bob Dylan walked into a shul on Yom Kippur in Atlanta.

 

 

Today is the first day of the last month of the Jewish year, Elul.  Since this is the month before we beg forgiveness from God for totally screwing each other and God over for the past year, we’re supposed to spend Elul focusing on being better people and making marked improvements in our religious practices. It’s kind of a scary time.  Every morning we get a nice little blast of the shofar to remind us of what’s coming up in a few weeks, and if you’re spehardic you start saying selichot (supplicatory prayers), tomorrow morning (if you’re ashkenzai you’ve got a couple of weeks left before that begins).  And we’re not talking a couple of measly paragraphs of half-assed apologetic lip service-- we’re talking upwards of an hour of heavy scary stuff.  The threat of not being inscribed in the Book of Life is a pretty terrifying possibility to those who take this kind of thing seriously, and it’s not generally treated with much levity.
Here's The Word Elul: so you can follow along with all my fancy acronyms
In this spirit Elul is often said to be an acronym for the famous words from the Songs of Songs, “I am my beloved’s and my beloved is mine.”  (In Hebrew, “Ani l’dodi v’dodi li.”)  The point is that we are in a serious relationship with God, and as such we have obligations to God.  If we’ve been somewhat careless with our connection to the Big Guy, this is meant to be a wakeup call and a reminder to get back with the program.

But I’ve heard other interpretations of Elul, as well.  Besides being an acronym for that verse in Song of Songs, it’s also an acronym for part of a verse in the book of Esther.  At the end of Esther we’re told, “-the same days on which the Jews enjoyed relief from their foes and the same month which had been transformed for them from one of grief and mourning to one of festive joy.  They were to observe them as days of feasting and merrymaking and as an occasion of sending gifts to one another and presents to the poor.” (Esther 9:22)  The end of this verse, “sending gifts to one another and presents to the poor” also works as an acronym for Elul (in Hebrew it’s “Ish l’re’eihu v’matanot l’evyonim.”)   
What's Your Weight on the Mitzvah Scale?: Honestly, this totally freaks me out
If we take this verse to heart we’re reminded that the month of Elul is a time when we really have to get things together in our interpersonal affairs.  Whether it’s a fight with a coworker of family member, or a failed commitment to give more money to tzedakah, Elul is about living up to our relationships with each other.  And I’m not saying that’s any easier than trying to path things up with God, but I do think that once you’ve made the effort to smooth over whatever happened at Thanksgiving with your Uncle Harry you’re more likely to feel more successful when you ask God for forgiveness on Rosh Hashana.  It’s obviously not a foolproof plan, but I’ve found that if I really commit myself to my friends and neighbors during Elul I feel a lot more prepared for Rosh Hashana than I do if I focus only on all those times I said shma way after the correct time. 

Anyway, wishing everyone a hopeful and fulfilling Elul.

I consider myself to be a pretty empathetic person, but forgiveness can throw me for a loop.

I don’t know if you’ve been following the case of the minister’s wife in Tennessee who shot her husband, but basically she testified that he was abusing her and ended up being convicted of manslaughter. She got out yesterday after serving a mere 67 days in a mental health facility. You can read more about it here. What’s crazy about this to me is how incredibly forgiving the system has been to a woman who admitted that she shot her husband. I absolutely believe that he abused her, and I find no excuse for that, but I really can’t believe that killing a man is only worth two and a half months in a mental health facility.
What's the Cost of Forgiveness: cuz I only have five bucks, and I'm not giving it all to you
Yesterday I wrote about how it’s Elul now, we’re gearing up for Rosh HaShana and Yom Kippur, and we need to shape up our interpersonal relationships. Unfortunately, part of preparing for the high holidays is asking for forgiveness from people you’ve wronged, and forgiving the people who ask you. I say unfortunately because this is not an easy or fun task. I can’t think of anything I dread more than the September phone calls to family members or current friends with whom I’ve had a falling out. I ask for forgiveness, and genuinely want to be forgiven, but I have a really hard time forgiving things that happen to me. I am pretty much the queen of holding grudges. And I guess that explains why I can’t believe the minister’s wife is out on probation—it seems crazy to me that the system wouldn’t have much of a grudge to hold against someone who admits to murder.

I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that I think grudges can be useful. Sometimes staying annoyed at people who have annoyed or hurt you in the past makes sense. It’s a defense mechanism, a way of protecting yourself from getting hurt again. And it seems that grudges hold a pretty central spot in Jewish texts, even. When we’re taught to remember that evil that Amalek did to us and to destroy every bit of them, when we’re taught to constantly tell the story of our slavery in Egypt, we’re being asked to hold grudges that are thousands of years old. And we hold those grudges for important reasons—safety and sense of identity.

The thing about forgiveness, though, is that it comes both ways. On those times when I seriously fuck something up, and then I step up and apologize to the person I’ve wronged, I can’t imagine how frustrated, sad and angry it would make me if someone told me they couldn’t or wouldn’t forgive me. When you muster up the courage to make yourself vulnerable to a friend, being stomped on is extra-painful.

These days I’m really good at apologizing and asking to be forgiven, and it has turned me into more of a forgiver than I ever was before. I still hold grudges and sometimes fake forgive people, but I’ve found that the more you choke out an apology and hope for the best, the more likely you’ll be able to give up the grudge against your great aunt Ida. And when you can’t let the grudge go, you can acknowledge it without letting it run your life. I learned a lot about this from a great article by a great blogger over at the Yoga Journal (I know, I’m so crunchy).

Forgiving is supposed to be easy, and it’s not. But I like my system of embracing my grudge just before I kick its ass to the curb. Anyone else have some tips on how to “let go and let God”?

I love these days leading up to the High Holidays because they feel like the hours leading up to a special house guest arriving. (Not the frantic change-out-of-sweatpants-before-the-buzzer-rings kind of spectacle-- I mean when things are in order and you're really excited for your guest to arrive.) There is an awful lot to think and talk about during these days. All this focus on shaping up to be in top form, spiritually and in more concrete terms, for the Days of Awe, is a lot. It's a good pressure, but I can't help but wonder if maybe that pressure pulls us away from ourselves a bit sometimes and pushes us in the wrong direction, becoming the exact opposite of what we need to be doing right now. I'm all for striving to be our best selves, and really, I think being our best self is probably the best way to try and live, but sometimes, all that striving, all that pushing, makes us forget what we really want and need deep down in order to feel like we're bringing the a-game in our lives. (I can't believe I just said "a-game". What do I think this is? ESPN.com? Let's try that again.) In order to feel like we're listening to ourselves and, most importantly, being ourselves.

Thrown pebbles: Casting away more than just breadcrumbs, yo.

Maybe my childhood shyness was really an incredible opportunity to stand at a unique vantage point. Maybe feeling like (Hello? because I usually was) a side-liner let me stand back and see the ripples that different actions sent out into the world by individuals, and not from, say, the groups they belong to. I wonder about this sort of thing often and in all the years I have thought about it, I have never grown tired of milling it over. But, to me, it appears that the only people who are making waves, affecting any real change, are those bold enough to throw a pebble into the center of the still waters in the first place. How many times in your life have you taken a deep breath and with your heart beating out of your chest blurted out something you've been aching to say? How many times have you put yourself out there and risked everything only to wonder later why you didn't do something sooner because it went so well? Those are moments of throwing that pebble, of being so very uncluttered and authentic; exhilarating, terrifying and unburdening yourself all at once.

The "pebble" can be a lot of things, but it is uniquely yours and, I think, you have no limit on them. The pebble can be an unveiling, an emotional make-over, an honesty, a setting of boundaries, saying yes out of your comfort zone or saying no out of your comfort zone. Throwing the pebble can be trying something you've always wanted to try, taking better care of yourself, or simply getting out of your own way and letting your life be easier, less dramatic, more fulfilling. But, it can also be the casting away of toxic people, an inharmonious relationship, a bad habit, an unhealthy choice... and the ripples these pebbles send out when cast are positive changes and good things coming into view because you said enough and let yourself be who you really are, even if just for a moment.

As appropriate as it might be for me to make this about making a social or political difference, I'm not going to do that, though maybe something I say could be placed into that context. I'm talking about the personal. About embracing yourself, for exactly who and what you are (and are not) and letting go of structures that we have remained in because we thought we should and for keeping sailing as smooth as possible (Stay with me on this water theme a bit longer, eh?). So what if what you really think, feel and need deep down doesn't make sense? So what if odds are against you? Try anyway because it feels right. I would venture a guess that more people regret not trying than trying, no matter the outcome. Just be authentic, no matter how much it might make you stand against the grain of your surroundings.

A sense of community is essential, and the older I get, the more I know that to be true. But, there is far more reward in cultivating ourselves day by day based on what we believe, what we really believe in our core, rather than nodding along to easily-found sound bites and buzzwords of groups we want to belong to. And really, I think it's likely only when we're talking care of ourselves as best we can that we're able to really give to the people around us.

To quote a woman I said Kaddish for when I learned of her passing: "It is easier to live through someone else than to become complete yourself." -Betty Friedan

Sure it would be easier. But, ultimately, that's what we're sort of here for, right? It's sort of what it's probably about. To consider, to try, to think things over, each time gently pulling away a layer of something inauthentic or that we no longer relate to. Or perhaps never did. And, shame on me if I didn't point out the obvious similarities to this and Tashlich. We throw bread crumbs into the water to symbolically cast away past unforchness to make room for good, to make an intentional gesture that says this year, I'm going to get this right. Maybe bearing that in mind, or taking that approach, as we prepare for the Holidays is something to consider.

There's a lot of focus during Elul about getting ourselves ready for the High Holidays by striving harder, doing more, being better. But, maybe, just maybe, we could benefit just as much, if not maybe more, by looking, really, really looking, at the choices and behaviors we shape our lives with. Maybe instead of adding things to improve, we need only let some things fall away.

You might have noticed in previous years that the father imagery is big in High Holiday liturgy. God as a father is all over the place in the machzor, but perhaps most notably in Avinu Malkeinu, Our Father Our King. This is one of those songs you learn as a kid and it gets stuck in your head for years at a time, and because the tune is serious and kind of dirge-y people don’t always pay attention to what it’s really saying, they just get emotional regardless.
Barbra Even Does A Version of Avinu Malkeinu: really makes you wish there were more consequences in life, doesn't it?
But if we're going to get all up in arms about this prayer, can we take a look at it for a minute. Here we have a whole significant section of our service where we preface every statement with Our Father Our King. Does anyone else see a problem here? Aren’t we the religion that doesn’t think God was a father? Isn’t this whole father/king thing rather Christian?

And the king thing seems rather quaint to most Americans. Prince Charles is going to be the King of England one day, and I’m not the least bit afraid of him, nor would I request anything from him except maybe local produce, since he seems interested in that.
Prince Charles: Not my father, not my king.
The point is, this whole thing is rather oldschool, and I wouldn’t expect it to seriously affect me but every year it does.

So how to compromise the daddy stuff with Judaism? There are actually some nice discussions of this elsewhere on the internet. MyJewishLearning has a nice article. And there’s a great post over at the Baraita blog. LeadershipU has a discussion of gender and God which is pretty interesting, too.

Here’s my take: Even though I’m all for egalitarian liturgy, I think that the idea of God as a father is an important thing to have in mind during the high holidays. Too often we think of God as this warm comfy mommy figure who will comfort us and always be there for us when we’re having a hard time. God as nurturer is a big thing in contemporary Jewish practice. Nurturing, after all, is considered very noble. But discipline and fear—those are harder to get next to in such a crunchy new age world. It’s hard to know where they really fit in to the kind of spirituality that a lot of people practice. And so, on Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, and all the days in between, we get this reminder that God isn’t just there for us when things are rough. God also expects things of us when we’re doing fine. God has demands. I know people who really worry about this every day, and are constantly viewing the world from a lense of what God demands of them, but far more of my observant friends immerse themselves in Judaism because it’s reassuring in some way. It’s familiar, or it simply feels good. And I think that’s fine—and certainly it’s true of me much of the time—but I like that every year I start off with this reminder that it’s not all about me being comfortable. It’s stressful, but it’s also helpful, I think.

Amazing story in the Atonement Forum:

A long time ago, when I was in the seventh grade at a Hebrew Day School, there was a new kid in our class from Israel. I'll call him Shuki. Shuki was only in the States for one or two years because his father was getting his PhD at one of the local universities. Because, even then, I was interested in the world, travel and meeting people from other countries, I befriended Shuki, who was a bit of a loner due to his short stature, natural shyness, limited command of English and his very strong Israeli accent.

I remember that I was one of the few in the class who attended his bar mitzvah and how his mother took my mother aside at the time to tell her how happy she was that Shuki had such a good friend in me because the move to the States had been so hard for him. Such was my relationship with Shuki.

One day, for no particular reason other than to be funny, I called up one of the girls in the class and, doing my best Israeli accent, I pretended to be Shuki...

Go to the forum to see the rest, and then submit your own.

 

Though most people seem to refer to December as the time of year when we see differences with our non-Jewish friends/partners/coworkers/whatever the most, I tend to feel more… more what?… more protective about the High Holidays. I think I mean that I feel more often misunderstood over the Days of Awe than I do about Chanukah. Or any other holiday, for that matter. Maybe it’s because Chanukah seems more straightforward, or maybe because most people are celebrating some kind of holiday around the same time and we’re all busy doing our own celebratory things to notice what anyone else is doing.

A woman I know last week said to me, “Oh, Happy Rosh HaShanah and Yom Kippur! Your big holidays! I hope g-d forgives you!” (Wish I could claim to be making that up.) Anyhow, the feelings of protectiveness came flooding back to me, same as last year. And the year before that... It’s hard to make people understand the Jewish definition of repentance and forgiveness and atonement sometimes, don’t you think? It’s hard to explain that it isn’t a holiday of groveling and confessing and forgetting about it. It’s not so much about out there but more about in here.
Teshuva and chet: Misunderstood and loaded like a mofo.
If asked, and, oy, only if asked, I usually start by explaining daven means self-judgment, not begging or anything like it. I stand up, just as I am, with my community and within the universe and all it stems from and judge myself during the Days of Awe. I look at how I handled the past year, where I could do more, where I could do better, what works, what doesn't, where I should try something else. We don’t beg the universe to forgive us, we stand within the whole mess and ask each other for forgiveness where we’ve dropped the ball.

A friend of mine said once that, “Jews are unique that the new year isn't about obliterating the past, but turning towards the future, making amends, changing” that just seemed perfect to me. Kind of the extended remix of that comes from a nice tidbit on Ritual Well about Rosh HaShanah that reads:

“Rosh Hashanah is the Jewish new year. While the secular new year is often celebrated by forgetting – we tear up the calendar, get drunk, and attempt to wipe the slate clean – the Jewish New Year is about remembering. The shofar, the ram's horn, wakes us from our stupor and demands that we face ourselves and our wrongdoings. The liturgy of the holiday stresses that life is short, our days our numbered, and our chance to change, do good, repent, accomplish the things we dream of, and treat the people we love as they deserve to be treated, is now.”

And, speaking of deservedness, I think it’s worth mentioning/reminding that it’s not lame in the least to think about the micro, too. How well we treat ourselves, ways we’re hard on ourselves, how we stand up for ourselves, how we maintain friendships that nourish us (or not), are all things worth considering around this time, as is deciding whether or not to make changes to address the issues. Deciding, thinking, considering.

Because, let us not forget, the Hebrew word that usually gets translated as sin (chet) isn’t sin like doing “wrong” or “bad” but in missing the target. It’s a mistake. A goof. A lack of focus, or preparation, or skill or whatever that made us drop the ball. A thing we can decide to correct, or not. Teshuva is about figuring out where we messed up, or need to improve, then we doing the inner-work, taking the necessary steps to try to further occurrences.

An explanation I really like of teshuva, comes from an archived post written by The Velveteen Rabbi:

“Teshuvah is a process of cleaning. Imagine a windowpane which hasn't been washed in a year. It's dusty; it's dirty; it's grimy. Maybe it's festooned with cobwebs. Maybe it's muddied. Though the sun may be shining outside that window, light won't penetrate until the glass has been made clear. ..we can't see… until we take the time to clear away what's clouding our vision.”

In the end, it’s a lot to try to explain to someone, especially, when we are ourselves focused on doing this around the time we’re most often asked, but perhaps the universal bear-in-mind that most anyone would understand (and perhaps even agree with!) also comes from Ritual Well, reminding us of how valuable each action is, of turning, striving, listening and sitting still:

“…and in fact each of us contains worlds. Through each of us, the world will be renewed…”

I think there are a lot of universal themes, very human themes, floating around Rosh HaShanah, and maybe that's where my wonkiness stems from-- that one of the most universal-feeling holidays, to me, seems like one of the most often misunderstood from the outside looking in. So, perhaps the best way to explain is to do. To let our clean windowpanes be an example.

Every year around this time I go into a minor stage of depression. I think it’s the high holiday liturgy that gets to me—I just feel like I’ve been such a bad person all year, and I get disgusted with myself. Usually I’m able to dig myself out of my morbid anger, but when I was a teenager I was a lot less capable of seeing over the huge grotesque obstacle in my way (my own poor behavior) and for a few years I was clinically depressed.  During the years when I was depressed, I remember that when we got to the vidui part of the service where we knock on our chests and list the things we’ve done wrong all I could think was how I had actually done all of those things. I hadn’t, of course, but somehow hating myself was very important to me.
Depression Sucks: seriously
It’s been a long time since then, but when I think about how much depression effected me it’s really terrifying. I’m thankfully unable to access that kind of self-loathing anymore (though if you want to read more about it, check out this post from one of my favorite blogs. The post is called, “I’m the Guy Who Sucks Plus I Got Depression” which is a reference to an Acheworld comic) but instead I worry about other people who struggle with depression, and as Y-Love reminded me over at Jewschool, being religious or part of a religious community doesn’t save you from the jaws of depression.

I did some digging online, and unfortunately there aren’t a ton of great Jewish resources out there. YU has some lectures posted online about depression, and I listened to one, but it opened with a note on how more religious people don’t get depressed as much because they have such strong faith in God. Maybe on a statistical level that’s true, but I know plenty of depressed frum people. Also the rabbi referred to depressed teenagers as, “everything bagels” (seriously). Ohr Samayach has a kind of dvar Torah posted online about depression, but it’s also pretty simplistic.

MyJewishLearning, RitualWell, and Beliefnet are all silent on this one, probably assuming you’ll just go to a secular source for help. There are some great blogs about Jewish life and depression, though, so I direct you to Haazina Tfilati, which is a Jewish woman's struggles and successes dealing with life, God, and depression. I think her saddest and most important post is this one. There’s also Everlasting Passing Days, which is insightful as well.

So please, during this time of renewal and reflection, look out for other people in your community who might be feeling less than cleansed, and who might be reaching out for help. You can find a detailed list of depression’s symptoms here.

Truth? I enjoy yanking everything out of cupboards and drawers and cleaning my apartment at Rosh HaShanah then again, of course, at Pesach, probably way, way more than I should. I clean, I take care of little nagging errands, and when I sit back, it's a satisfying feeling, to be on top of things.

Shanah Tovah: Whattdya say we knock this crap off a sec and have a little fun, mm?

But, with the clean-a-thon (and errand-a-thon) in full swing probably in many homes, with half the MOTs I know schlepping through airports today, and with the cringe-worthy spectacle I just saw drive past my apartment building (a plumber's van with a PVC missile on top and a sign tied to the side that read Been lookin' for Bin Laden... remember 9/11), I thought we could all use a break and a laugh. Tomorrow, I'll be back with a more of my heavier granola-girl biznass, but today, let's just chill and laugh, yeah? Great.

 

Okay, then, first read President Bush's Rosh HaShanah greeting to us, but read it out loud in his voice. Hilarious! Can you imagine him saying Shanah Tovah? Or shofar?!? I know, I know, it's a nice gesture and we should be menschy and thank him, but c'mon, it's funny. Almost as funny as how totally uncomfortable he looked at the chanukiot lighting at the White House last year.

Check out Rabbi Richard Israel's cute list of using different kind of bread for different types of behavior one wishes to modify at a Taschlich ceremony. (I'd like to add booze-drenched fruitcake and Guacamole Doritos to the list of options on behalf of a particular friend's Very Fun Time In Mexico a few months ago.)

This blows: No, uh, actually it blasts.

 

Lastly, I assume most of you have seen Rosh HaShanah Girl, inspired by Obama Girl. If not, do enjoy. Lyrics and more info can be found here. Since we're watching videos, let us not forget last year's Ro-Ro-Ro-Rosh HaShanah (to My Sharona), Hebrew Crunk and this shofar garage door opener. (Hi, can you imagine how much fun you'd have with a shofar in place of keys and openers? My neighbors would die.)

Anyway, break over. Back to making shalom bayit.

Since Rosh Hashana is almost upon us I thought I’d give y’all a bunch of links to websites that explain how to forgive others, and how to ask others for forgiveness. It’s not the most fun task ever, but think how free you’ll feel afterwards…
Pwetty pwease?
eHow
How to Ask for Forigveness
Simple, fast, clean

Lessons in Lifemanship
Forgiveness
It’s basically a self help book that’s been published online. Kind of cheesey, but has some good ideas.
"One of the most gracious responses to an apology I have ever heard resulted from an accident in a fast-food restaurant when one of our daughters spilled a big glop on the floor. She apologized profusely to the young man who came to clean it up, but he smiled and said, "Don't apologize. If you didn't spill, I wouldn't have a job."

Ask the Rabbi
How to Forgive Yourself
Why is it that so many people have trouble admitting when they're wrong?
One possible reason is that without an absolute standard of right and wrong, there's may be no compelling reason to admit wrongdoing.

 

God Articles
Must Ask Forgiveness
“The eraser of forgiveness is the only thing that can wipe away our sins.”

Plus an article on holding grudges. Which is apparently bad, though I’m not totally convinced.
Don't Hold a Grudge
“Grudges stay with you, kind of like chewing gum on the bottom of your shoe.”

So tonight we head to shul for two days of praying and eating and trying to sort things out with God. If done right (in my opinion) Rosh Hashana is an intensely personal holiday, forcing you to privately take stock of what you’ve done in the past year, and what you wish you had done differently. It’s about our relationships with friends and family, and our relationship with God, too.
Well, This Guy Is ON An Island: But he isn't the island, per se
But one of the things that I always notice at Rosh Hashana is how full the synagogue sanctuary gets. People come together for this holiday, even though in its essence, it’s about a private confession and resolution. We come together because as Jews that’s what we do. We gather, and we pray and think and try to do better.

In this age of DIY and virtual lives, sometimes it can be easy to forget the simple power of standing in a room with hundreds of other people, all thinking about how to make themselves better people and making wishes for the year to come. I feel so lucky, this year of all years, to have a community, and a relationship with God and Torah. Not only because it has given me so many Jewcy friends, but also because even in the lonliest moments of introspection, it’s nice to feel like you’re part of something larger. And even those of us who stick it to the man, and practice an alternative, funky, and anti-establishment Judiasm are important to the whole.

Weirdly, I feel the need to call on some of John Donne’s religious meditations, some of the beautiful faith writing you’ll ever read:

No man is an island, entire of itself; every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main. If a clod be washed away by the sea, Europe is the less, as well as if a promontory were, as well as if a manor of thy friend's or of thine own were: any man's death diminishes me, because I am involved in mankind, and therefore never send to know for whom the bells tolls; it tolls for thee.

L’shana tova u’metukah! Wishing you all a sweet, healthy and happy New Year.

 

Last Shabbes two women (an elderly woman and her daughter) walked into a shul in Syracuse that a family I'm close to attends, and in the middle of the morning service, started heckling the rabbi, and a few moments later, launching into a full-on spew of anti-semitism, Mellypoo Gisbson-style, and then they started threatening to blow the place up, along with few other sites like, oh, the Dome of The Rock. Pretty lofty claims for a woman in her 70s to be making, no?
Step off, Hatahs: Magen David'll throw down (kindly and responsibly!) to defend his peeps!
When they (this family) told me just today about this, the first thing I thought was, "The women went into the shul? That doesn't make any sense. They came all the way to Syracuse from Georgia to talk shit? Who does that? Two women, one of them elderly, versus that huge congregation? Hello?" But, having personally experienced an attempted hate crime (I say "attempted" only because I was injured and not, say, killed, so I feel like I thwarted his plan) three years ago this fall, I know there isn't a ton of stability or logic or that "live-and-let-livedness" I'm so very fond of going on when it comes to bias-motivated actions.

As much as I wish building bridges and being a good person changes minds and notions, I know that's simply not true, unfortunately. There is little any of us can do to stop someone absolutely determined to commit an act of harm, really. Rabbi Sherman (who, btw, hilariously handles cell phones ringing mid-service better than any rabbi I've seen) told the Syracuse Post-Standard that the women initially seemed to be behaving normally, like the rest of the congregation, of course. They didn't bust in with signs, symbols and slogans and neon signs over their heads. Especially in such a large shul, not every face is familiar. And, I believe with all I have that it's important to go out of our way to make people feel welcome. There's no right answer here; we live with anti-semitism (and all sorts of other anti-) around us from time to time, we've all seen it on some level at some point, and usually our Jew-dar shrieks at us when something is wonky. Sometimes, but not always.

Last night, the local news report here reported Rosh HaShanah and Ramadan both getting underway and within four sentences, turned the program to security concerns. Oy.

So, this afternoon, I've been thinking about the best ways to strike a balance between welcoming new faces and building community while keeping our eyes open without (and this is key) without clouding our minds. It's probably, nay, totally impossible to be open and welcoming, scan the congregation for potential fanatics, make teshuva, enjoy time together, keep an eye on our kids/siblings/nieces and nephews/whatever, and listen to and trust our gut instincts without being judgmental. Impossible. There's no way. I don't know what the answer is; I don't know where the balance is. But, we are a people of wrestling with information and decisions, so it's something to roll around.
R-E-S-P-E-C-T: Or, the Golem will be dispatched, yo.
Many shuls have enlisted the help of extra security, which I think is the right move. Most places have security all year (mine does), which is also not a bad idea. And, oy, let me ask you something-- What is your shul's regular security guard's name? I'm embarrassed to admit, I don't know mine. Such a nice man, I chat with him as I come and go, but I've never once stopped and asked his name. Not very community-building of me, is it?

So, before we dash off the shul tonight and tomorrow, here's just a little something to think of. It's a pain in the ass to wait through security lines at shul, it's weird to have a stranger digging through your purse, it seems weird to have to deal with that before walking in, but let's all try to think less about the inconvenience and give a smile and a "thank you" to the (often under-appreciated) security guards in our synagogues at this time of year. Hokey, maybe, but thanks go a long way. And maybe if your shul employs year-round security a little introduction is a nice gesture of respect, of just plan decency that might be something to consider.

Sure, knowing a name isn't going to stop the unthinkable from happening, but it's a tiny stitch in looking after each other, and a very big part of being kind-hearted. So, yeah, maybe deep-down I can't help but think that positivity and living mindfully and kindly will win out in the end. Maybe so. And, maybe, there is also a balance to be found between being smart in a dangerous world and not letting threats derail us, or cause us to hid or dilute the things meaningful to us out of fear.

Wishing everyone a Jewcy, safe, fun and meaningful time in the coming days.

L'Shanah Tovah.

Hey gang. Just popping in for a quick second between the post-Tashlich honey and challah party (where I scored recipes for lasagna and baklava made with maztah-- Hi, guess what will be on the menu for my seder this year??) and before I dash off to a bris in a few minutes, to bring you a little 411 on the shofar. (I, Amy Guth, fully admit that I got blinky and welled-up this morning when the shofar was sounded. I love the shofar.)

Blasted!: Should we share with everyone?

First, let's call this our baseline shofar blast clip. Then, please watch the most wonderfully, heartwarmingly cheesy video ever. How coked out funny is that kid? Speaking of the shofar, it has come to my attention that some speaking-in-tongues types-events have started using shofarot during services and they get played all cheesebag super-serious and more like French horn. Or, maybe it's not a new thing at all but I'm just now hearing about it. Whatevs. See eerily dull shofar here that seems churchishe (I'm a dick, I know, I know, but c'mon, it does! Nothing wrong with church, it just seems weird to see a shofar, something that feels so Jewish to me in the deep sparks of my being.) and completely foreign-to-me shofar hoedown shouting "Praise Jesus" here. (Not that there is anything wrong with having JC as your homeboy, if that's your bag) Anyway, shofar in churches? Discuss.

I was trying to explain to a few non-MOTs that I know what it's like in shul when the shofar is played. I said it's more like this, but indoors and with this kind of milling-around chaos and less shrieking.

Okay, I need to motor if I'm going to make that bris.

Shanah Tovah!

This afternoon, I got a phone call from a friend of mine and we ended up in a discussion about a feminist Yom Kippur service she's attending this week in a start-up minyan living-room sort of setting. I asked her what elements were going to be changed, implemented or excluded to qualify the service as feminist and she pointed out some resources I'll be sharing with all of you a bit later this week, of course. She mentioned something which I found terribly interesting, and that the women leading this service made a point to let the attending women know that it was a "body-positive, fast-optional" minyan, feeling all too often food, eating, not-eating, and being female is so very loaded.

Yom Kippur: No laughing matter.

This idea started, my friend explained, when one of the service leaders, years ago, overhead women talking about the Yom Kippur diet and felt that seeing the fast as a trick to outsmart the metabolism to be quite a shonda, if not just missing the spiritual point, so they decided on their mindful approach.

Personally, this is a subject of great interest to me, mainly because I write a great deal about the social-cultural issues surrounding women and eating and so often about media literary versus body image and the like. This article from Jewish Family offers a breakdown of physical effects of temporary fasting, with a mindfulness towards eating disorders and here a few rabbis and physician talk it over in a broad sense. Here Richard Israel offers some tips and a decent explanation (for some of our friends-of-the-Jewcy readers) about why we fast, in personal and spiritual terms, while here a rabbi and health officials at the Renfrew Center for Eating Disorders urges people to consider not fasting at all.

This essay by Janie Lieberman details her struggle with eating disorders, why, with the day and its rituals too loaded for her, she did not chose to fast any longer, which ends with this paragraph:

"With Yom Kippur 'fast' approaching, we atone for our sins of the body and spirit. Forgetting all that, many will end their daylong fast by gorging at sundown. Indeed, the Jewish holidays are as rich in traditions as they are in rich food. I, however, do not fast. I did enough of that, and it was only a set up to binge. Judaism teaches us that the body is a soul's house. I respect that philosophy and don't abuse food or my body."

Fasting: Some can, some cannot. No shame, either way.

The Talmud declares that one must maintain a healthy body in order to have a healthy soul, and with such discussion in Judaism devoted to saving a single life being like saving the whole world, and with even the most observant person not only being rabbinically permitted but required to violate other halachic terms to spare someone death.

But, in my humble opinion, there is physically saving a life, and there is emotionally saving a life. Sometimes the lines blur, sometimes they do not, but both are of great sacredness and importance. This year on Yom Kippur, I wish everyone a meaningful, mindful and safe experience, however it manifests, and however we thoughtfully choose.

 

Maddy,

It's not that I don't like you. I don't personally know you, of course, and I once bought Like A Virgin (as a new release, and on vinyl, ahem) and loved it. And until now I've resisted commenting about your Jew-ish schtick, because I found it a bit too half-hearted to really stir me. But your "I'm an ambassador for Judaism" comment right there with Israeli President Shimon Peres floored me and hurt me on a deeper level than I imagined something like that would.

Peacekeeping: Bodypaint + Pop Star

You are not Jewish. As far as I know, you're not even really all that Jew-ish. I am Jewish, and I am offended that you are speaking on my behalf. On our behalf. I've studied a great deal about other religions, but, just because I think, say the idea of patron saints is a cool concept, or just because I agree deeply with some Buddhist teachings, doesn't mean I'd haul off and declare myself an ambassador for those traditions. If I felt strongly enough about Catholicism or Buddhism, I'd be Catholic or Buddhist. And, even then, if I were to jump religions, I can't imagine feeling qualified to be an ambassador. But that's just me. I can recognize beauty and find ideas resonant without taking it for my own. I know you're really gung-ho about Kabbalah, as are a lot of celebrities. And I find non-Jewish interest in Judaism to be the highest compliment; a testament to the beautiful ideas and concepts we hold so dearly and that make me so proud of my Jewishness. But, I'd like to remind you that Kabbalah is not a religion. Kabbalah is an ancient set of Jewish mystical concepts. And one is supposed to be both a Torah and Talmud master before beginning the study of Kabbalah.

I can say confidently, without knowing you personally, that you, Madonna, are not a Torah and Talmud master. If I may be so frank, you're a woman with a shit-pot of money and worldwide fame. Those two things open a lot of doors, but they often insulate a person from authentic information/experiences and cause a lot of people to give you authority that hasn't necessarily been earned. You worked hard for your success, and I'm not begrudging you the fruits of your labors. But are you aware of how deeply you are irritating to some of the peoplehood you claim to adore? Anyone would recognize your authority in matters of music, singing, dance, celebrity, and wealth, but I'm not comfortable with your authority in Jewish matters. Maybe because you're not Jewish.

I wouldn't stand in front of President Shimon Peres and declare myself an ambassador to Judaism, and I'm not only Jewish but gung-ho about being Jewish. I just don't think I'm narcissistic enough to think my Jewishness can speak for anyone but myself. In fact, I think Judaism, by nature, is anti-ambassador. We don't get "preached to" but rather we "discuss and consider for ourselves". So, yeah. There's that. Anyway, check this out.

Ambassador. n.

1. A diplomatic official of the highest rank appointed and accredited as representative in residence by one government or sovereign to another, usually for a specific length of time.
2. A diplomatic official heading his or her country's permanent mission to certain international organizations, such as the United Nations.
3. An authorized messenger or representative.
4. An unofficial representative: ambassadors of goodwill.

See my point, Maddy? The two things that stick out to me are "of highest rank" and "authorized". Nobody charged you, nobody urged you, nobody asked you. You decided you speak for me and I have to be honest and tell you thanks but no thanks. However, I do want to point out the words "usually for a specific length of time" and inquire about your plan in this regard...?

Pick a Narcissism, Any Narcicsssm: First She-Jeeze, now Yiddishe Ambassador?

The Times Online's (UK) Hugo Rifkind wrote today (I'm sure you are aware of this publication, as the UK seemed to be the last thing you half-heartedly co-opted, alienating the shit out of folks both in the UK and here in the US, where you are actually from) that you are "to actual Judaism what the Beach Boys were to actual surfing (in that you can’t do it, and don't really want to, but pretend it has influenced your songs)" which I found quite funny. What do you think about that? I'm sure, since you are a human being, that criticism isn't pleasant. Does it offend you because you feel so deeply connected to Judaism and our peoplehood that this accusation makes you feel misunderstood?

Because, here's the thing. If you wanted to actually be Jewish, if you studied with a rabbi and the two of you felt you found your place inside of Judaism and fit within Judaism as you are, if you went before a beit din and went to mikveh, I would welcome you, just as I would welcome anyone who felt strongly enough to convert. But, you aren't. You haven't.

I'm protective of Judaism. It isn't always easy to be Jewish. You're like our sparkly little fair-weather friend. By that I mean, you're a friend-of-the-Jewcy, which is better than being an aspiring Jew-exterminator, of course. (By the by, I was sorry to hear about what Popular Resistance said about you. That's got to be scary.) You put Rosh HaShanah and Purim in People magazine, which I suppose might lead to Judaism being a bit less mysterious to non-Jews, perhaps. But, on the same token, putting Rosh HaShanah and Purim in the news makes it all seem glamorous rather than meaningful. And, when something starts on that path, it gets misunderstood and whitewashed and co-opted and cheapened.

I can't begrudge anyone anything from which they derive meaning and sacredness, but I'd really encourage you to think about how your behavior looks to those of us you mean to "represent," and those of us you profess to care so deeply for. If you feel good about Judaism, please remember "chosen people" doesn't mean elevated in importance in the great karmic pecking order, but it means we choose greater responsibility for repairing the world around us and  caring for one another.

Just something to mull over and think about. I do appreciate your willingness to embrace many paths as well as how eager you are to reinvent yourself. My hope for you is that one day, you find a spiritual home that evolves with you and you with it, and that it is one you can finally live in with your whole self.

B'Shalom,

Amy Guth

Post Script: While you have really got some chuptzah to ink out one of the 72 names for the source of the universe on your arm, your new Hebrew tattoo does, I'll admit, look really badass, and I can see the theoretical appeal in the explanation your Kabbalah Center Guy offered, I guess, about manifesting things in your own life. Perhaps you might encourage your old pal Britney to take the advice on the "healing" nature of her tattoo. Girlfriend is pretty cracked-out these days.

Post-Post Script: I sort of like to run to that song that you sampled ABBA to make. I didn't understand the suntan pantyhose leggings in the video, though.

 

[Note: This post has been edited since publication.]

In honor of the great lefty Sandy Koufax and of great righty Hank Greenberg, I thought it would be fun today to give some shoutouts to some other Jewish athletes kicking it Greenberg-Koufax style, and a few other happenings in the world of J-sports.

 

Shawn Green considers the way to do the High Holidays his way in this weirdly worded headline, but discussion-worthy article, and here we see a Q&A with BoSox first-baseman Kevin Youkilis about the decision he and outfielder Gabe Kapler made last year to go ahead and play on Yom Kippur. Jonah Keri's piece earlier this month in Salon.com highlights (or, chai-lights? Ba-dum-ching!) eighteen standout Jewish baseball players. Andre Tippet talks about conversion and football here (ha/oy, we see that word "ambassador" again), and Paul Lukas gave us this "kosher look" at Judaism in baseball back in April, giving mention to Mike "SuperJew" Epstein's glove-art.

"SuperJew" Epstein: Taking breaking-in a glove to a new level.

Also, a few of you might remember Jewish Journal's piece last spring about Pesach V. NCAA. Another sports discussion-worthy tidbit lives right here, in the adventures of a Canadian Orthodox hockey player. Also let's revisit the story of karate champion, Sara Rivka Ernstoff, who refused the US's World Karate Championship trials twenty-five years ago.

 

In NY, Cablevision is adding a Jewish On-Demand channel which "will contain a mix of films, documentaries, talk shows, comedy, political commentary shows, cooking programs, sports, children's programs, and holiday specials all with a Jewish theme or connection" and the JNF of Greater NY issues a "My Bad!" after having to rescind a Playboy Mansion trip prize, auctioned off at a sports trivia night in Manhattan. Heading west to Ohio, the Shaw JCC in Akron is pretty excited to be hosting Maccabi Games in 2008 and heading way far away, the JTA reports a tiny bit about the Jewish sports festival held earlier this month in Moldova.

 

Israeli tennis duo Andy Ram and Jonathan Erlich have started a Jewish Sports Foundation to "encourage young American athletes, will also aim to combat negative stereotypes about Jews’ athletic prowess." (Read the Jewish Chronicle piece here.) Speaking of negativity, remember last winter when Bahrain gave the boot to Mushir Salem Jawher for running the Tiberias marathon. Lastly, speaking of the marathon, registration for the Jerusalem half-marathon will open soonish for the March 2008 race.

 

This year, as with every year around this time, you hear a lot of people wishing each other health and happiness. And I believe that people are sincere in this wish, but unfortunately, being healthy and happy requires some work of the wishee. Being healthy means, among other things, going to the doctor.
If This Is What You Need: to get you motivated to put these things on your calendar, I say go for it.
I’ll be the first to admit that doctor’s appointments are about my least favorite activities. The examinations and questions make me uncomfortable and unhappy, and even with insurance, the cost stresses me out. But even though I dread my doctor’s appointments, I’m diligent about going simply because I’m terrified that if I don’t keep on top of my health I’ll find out I have some serious condition that requires lots and lots of time with doctors in hospitals, paying lots of money for procedures that hurt. So if you’re like me, I strongly suggest that you make your annual appointments ASAP.

AppointmentS, you say? In the plural?

Yep. There are a bunch of things to get checked out every year. Check with your doctor to see if all of these apply to you (pap smears, for instance, are recommended yearly for women under 30, and and then less often as you get older, and colon screening isn't necessary until you're fifty) but you really should investigate.  Sucks, but just do it.

1. Get Squeezed
Breast health is my number one issue right now because my mother was recently diagnosed with breast cancer, and that makes her the fourth woman in three generations of her family. She was diagnosed because of something that was found in a mammogram, which only reinforces everything I’ve always heard about mammograms: they work, and you need to get one every year. Starting when you’re forty this should be something that you keep up with no matter what. Until you’re forty, practice monthly breast self exams (alas, being felt up by your boyfriend doesn’t count).
Boobs: If you wanna keep 'em, get 'em squeezed
For more information on the importance of mammography, click here.
For information on getting a free mammogram click here.
For instruction on how and when to conduct a breast self exam, click here.

2. Get Poked
Colon cancer is one of those cancer’s we’d really rather not discuss. Colons are gross, right? You know what’s grosser? Dying. From the time you turn fifty you should get one of three tests that screen for colon cancer every year. Every ten years you should get a colonoscopy. For more info on what tests you should ask for (and yes, you may have to ask for them) click here.

3. Get smeared
Girls, you need to go to the gynecologist every year for your annual pap smear. This may be my single least favorite activity of all time, but I hear cervical cancer is a bitch (and frankly, if there’s any part of my body that I want in tip top shape, it’s my cunt) so I grin and bear it. While you’re there, I suggest being tested for STDs, too (assuming you’re sexually active) because some of them, like clamydia, might not have any symptoms, and so can just hang out in your cooch for ages if you don’t catch them early. For more info on the importance of Pap smears, and how often to get them click here.

4. Get scraped
Is there anything worse than the sound of plague being scraped off your teeth? Blech! But it turns out going to the dentist is not just about checking for cavities and and gum disease. Because so much enters the body via the mouth, lots of things can be diagnosed early by looked closely at oral health. For more information on the Mouth-Body connection, check out this website. I was especially surprised by this:

Many diseases and conditions can affect your oral health. For example, people with weakened immune systems may be more likely to get fungal and viral infections in the mouth. The immune system (the system that protects the body from illness and infection) can be weakened by disease or as a side effect of cancer chemotherapy drugs or by drugs that are taken to prevent the rejection of transplanted organs or bone marrow. Medications taken for other conditions also can affect the health of your mouth. For example, many drugs cause dry mouth, which can increase your risk of dental decay, oral yeast infections and other oral infections.

Your oral health also can affect other medical conditions. For example, if you are diabetic, an infection in your mouth can disrupt your blood-sugar levels and make your diabetes harder to control. Researchers also are exploring the role of periodontal (gum) disease as a potential risk factor for various medical conditions, including heart disease.

So do yourself a favor and make an appointment to see a dentist every six months.

5. Get screened
Heart disease is the number one killer in the US. Half of all Americans will die of heart disease. If you’re like me and hate being a member of a the mainstream, or if you just don’t want to die anytime soon, I highly suggest getting screened for heart disease, a process that can be as quick as 15 minutes, and can help you see how to make changes in your diet and lifestyle that can save your life. For information on what happens at a screening, and where to be screened, check out Heart Screen Now.

6. Get charged
The smoke alarms in your house or apartment need to be checked once a month, and the batteries should be replaced every year. For more info check out this directive from the US Consumer Product Safety Commission, or this rapping British firefighter.

If you think you might have trouble remembering all of this stuff, I encourage you to sign up for a free service that will remind you to set up appointments. I like MyHealthTests.

This stuff might not seem spiritual, but unless you want to become a spirit, you’ve got to stay alive, and to stay alive, you’ve got to keep on top of your health. So this year mark your spiritual beginning by having a bunch of doctors make you uncomfortable. Then take yourself out for a drink and congratulate yourself for being so damn on top of things.

I really like Kol Nidre so much and I'm really looking forward to the service tonight. It's so heavy and really pulls at my heart, but/and synagogues sound so beautiful. So beautiful, in fact, that I wanted to sneak a little listen to Max Bruch's arragement of the Kol Nidre. Here's a pretty version by the Vienna Philharmonic Women's Orchestra, here's a men's a capella version, here's a Moroccan version sung by Eyal Bitton, uh, and here's you're just a click away from a sitar version of the Kol Nidre that turns sort of jam-bandy reggae-ish, if that's your bag. As for alterna-versions, I suppose, if I must, my vote would go to Meshuggah Beach Party's version-- they've only slapped their Shalom Alechem onto YouTube, so you'll have to score their CD to make the Kol Nidre happen, which you can get, right here. I have it and I can personally vouch for its wicked awesomeness. Ben Sidran does a great jazz version on the Life's A Lesson CD, Eddie South has a sad little violin version, Alhambra does a nice one, too, on the Art of Judeo-Spanish Songs CD.

And since I won't talk to any of youse until Monday, I have a few Yom Kippur goodies for you too: