It has been awhile since I last wrote, and I apologize for the interruption in correspondence. Forgive me as well if I write more than usual, because I have left so much unsaid these past days. I feel as though I have a synaptic sort of gap in my creativity. The ideas are there, but the ability to communicate them isn't firing correctly. So, I've tried to bring together as much as I can, yet it's never exactly what I want. And that's the heart of the matter right there, what I want. It's true. I want, I want, I want. I always want more or less than what I have. I want more stuff, less stress, more money, less debt. I want security and safety, and I want excitement and fun. I want to experience as much as I possibly can, yet I want the predictability and routine that is the backbone of my existence. I want.
Some months back I spent a night with some dear friends, one old friend, "S"of 25 years, a new friend "T", my best friend my wife, and an old soul friend "IR" whom I have a "casual but deep" relationship with. IR is a man who shares a love for Jewish learning and reflection, for relationship with something larger than ourselves, and for serving the world in ways that are truly unexpected. He is a lay Reb, a one time lawyer, a performer, a writer, a musician, a son, a husband, an uncle, a questioner, and all around mensch.
That night we had all been together at one of IR's performances in the sleepy little resort town that S and I grew up in. The show was hysterically funny, ridiculously relevant, and musically phenomenal, but one song in particular has always been a favorite of mine. It deals with the desire to have, and to be something that will fulfill temporary earthly desire, but will ultimately lead to death when the emptiness of the want is met. It is also set within a meticulously crafted four part a cappella song, sung by four talented male performers dressed in full drag. Did I mention that some of my dear friends are enormously talented political satirists who perform biting attacks on current events, the human condition, and the implications of religion upon a theoretically secular world? Did I mention that they are also known as The Kinsey Sicks? Well, if I didn't, now you know. And you should find them online www.kinseysicks.com, on Youtube, or live in concert, and then you should buy every one of their albums and listen to them as many times as you can. Oh, and remember to buy a t-shirt and a magnet too.
At any rate, the The Kinsey Sicks' song that was performed, "I Want to be a Dead Princess"* was written shortly after the death of Princess Diana. The song tells of a person's want to be a "dead princess," i.e. revered, cherished, idolized, and perhaps immortalized at the highest peak in their lifetime. The verses ask for a fame that will encompass the neediness that is eating away at the core of the vocalist(s), while the chorus and the ending repeat the phrase "I want." And that is the place of pain and brokenness that resonates most deeply for me.
My wants, my desires to be adored, even at the cost of the security of those around me, even my own life, seem to pour out of me when I least expect them. And as I think about this message of exchanging life for human praise, I am reminded of the daily deaths that we all endure as we suffer injustice, human frailty, and human nature. We choose to let our emotional and psychological neediness trump the needs of others. When I buy something I want, something that has no inherent usefulness to my life, be it an original Da Vinci or a plastic thingy from the dollar store, I have made a statement to myself, my neighbors, and my G-d, that my wants are more important than anyone else's needs. I want.
As I think about that sentence, those two words, I want, my mind travels to another set of words, those "three little words," "I love you." Those words that can be too quickly blurted out or too infrequently breathed, into the ears and hearts of those around us. "I love you," three little words. How intriguing it is that we label them as such, little. There is nothing little about love. There is nothing little about I, or you, or the relationship we create when those words are spoken. Think even briefly of Martin Buber's seminal work, "I and Thou." Yet, somehow we feel pressed to minimize them, their meaning, their value, their vulnerability. We are afraid of not hearing them back. We are afraid of what a relationship of love might actually mean. We make small that which is too big for us to handle. Much the way we do when we speak of G-d, or the relationships we are called into when we let G-d be within our hearts, our minds, and our souls. We confine love to create the illusion that we are in control of forces that are uncontrollable.
I believe that this matter of control is a core issue for many people and their relationship with G-d. It is hard enough to feel accepted by another human being, even one who truly loves and accepts you unconditionally, the way my wife does, let alone with a deity, force, creator, G-d who may be seen as judge, jury, and jailer all in one. Relationship with G-d requires a level of vulnerability that can be so overwhelming that we never even attempt such a relationship. Being open to a G-d that has promised to love unconditionally, and to drastically change your life if you are willing, is to strip down to your barest soul and expose the wounds of a lifetime of pain. Being in relationship with G-d is that process of revealing the brokenness, to G-d and to yourself. It is also the process of letting go of that pain as we allow G-d to be within the pain.
So, instead of revealing the brokenness and allowing G-d to repair and replace the emptiness of my core self, I attempt to fill the spaces with the things I want on my own. I seek out that which will temporarily gratify my neediness and my emptiness, giving relief to the pain I cover as I walk through life. I want.
And what I really want is a religious community in which to travel this journey with. Unfortunately I live an hour away from any synagogue, Reform, Conservative, Orthodox, "non-denominational" or otherwise, so my need for a physical Jewish community is largely unmet. Yes, I know and have Jewish friends in the area, yes I have Jewish family members, and yes I celebrate most all of the Jewish holy-days. But its not the same. Being a Jew, means being a Jew in community. As an Eastern European Jew in particular, it means returning to our shtetl our village, to live our faith as a group, most often in conflict with the secular world around us. It is a culture in unto itself, and it defines a large piece of who we are. It is about finding solidarity in our otherness especially in comparison to the culture(s) we live in. It is a community of faith, one that promises that we will be suppoerted in our joys, our triumphs, our disappointments, our sorrows, and our persecutions, both real and imagined. Community.
But here's the catch, I am in fact a part of a faith community right here where I live, and I have travelled millions of miles with them throughout the past 15 years of my strange and wondrous journey. And they are not a Jewish community. Rather, they are self defined as a United Church of Christ, a christian church. It is a place where there are weekly explorations of the life of Jesus of Nazareth, and his ministry in Israel over 2000 years ago. Yep, there is a cross on the altar, an enormous stained glass window with a very white looking man with long hair, flowing white robes, and a sheep above the altar. There is christian iconography throughout the building. There are excerpts of scripture posted on the walls. There is a common understanding in the community that Jesus of Nazareth was and is the promised messiah of the Jewish people living in the Promised Land millennia ago. And yet, they are the faith community that I return to over and over again.
Why? Because I want the love of my wife, who is truly, and honestly a believing and practicing christian in the UCC. I was there when she was confirmed as a teen. I was there as she explored other traditions, but always came back to her roots. And I have been there as she has brought our sons into this community, taught them, and raised them with a rock solid foundation of what it means to be a loving, forgiving, and growing person of faith. She has provided for our family a common faith to live in.
Why? Because, we need and want the love that we receive from the people who form this community. We want to experience the love that we can share as a community. And I want to be a part of a faith community, even if by definition it is not my own tradition's.
And why do I frequently attend this UCC Church? Because every Sunday morning as the service begins the following words are spoken:
"Whoever you are, and wherever you are on life's journey, you are welcome here."
And the most remarkable part is that they do mean it. There are lakeside residents who belong to synagogues back home, who attend services every summer, sometimes more faithfully than the locals who straggle in only on Christmas and Easter. There are people who identify in all manner of spiritual ways who attend on any given Sunday morning. And I am one of them. I am accepted, exactly for who I am, and for where I am on life's journey. And in the end, that's what I really want. To enter into relationship, to want, to love, and to know that for all the vulnerability I will share with others and with G-d, I will be accepted as I am.
Thank you for accepting me as I continue on my journey.
Be well, love your neighbor as you love yourself, and remember to actually love yourself.
-Ari
_______________________________________________________________
*http://www.cdbaby.com/cd/kinseysicks2#
