I’ve heard in the past about some fanatic church-goers who show up to funerals, to communities of gays, blacks and Jews, and protest their existence. I’ve ignored this news as ignorance, almost laughable. Recently, these same folk showed up outside a Jewish music festival to protest, what else, Jews. Is it just me, or is this ultra bizarre? What kind of faith teaches their members to be racist, full of hate and narrow-minded? And then to go out of their way and march it out? Is this a kind of faith anyone should belong to?
If you don’t believe yet how outrageous this group is, visit their home site, Domain Name: http://www.godhatesfags.com. I cannot make this stuff up.
And here is a photo of a Westboro child holding the signs…
Honest to G-d, it hurts me to even put this image up.
What do you think about this group? Honestly. Is there room for hate and bigotry in religion? What’s their deal? Maybe someone can fill me in.
So I hear it’s lent time. My best friend gave up chocolate (I could never!). I was thinking about the idea of food in Judaism and how it plays such a huge role — especially around laws of kosher and holidays. More recently in the Jewish tradition, a popular movement to become vegan has developed.
Blogs such as The Jew and the Carrot and heeb ‘n’ vegan have formed a loyal following, and many Jews request vegan as opposed to kosher restaurants (because vegan eating actually is kosher). Plus, one of my interviews at The Jew Spot Chloe Jo Berman runs an incredible site about vegan living called Girlie Girl Army.
To be honest, despite all this excitement, I never jumped on board. I did the vegetarian thing before until I found out I can’t have gluten, so meat it was. When I did it though, it was more out of experimentation than an ethical, moral reason. But now, reading up on why it’s ethically immoral to eat animals (I promised myself I wouldn’t read this but did anyway!) I’m kind of thinking us human creatures are pretty heartless when it comes to the animal world. Am I exaggerating?
Is this movement also taking place in the religious world at large? What do other religious communities say or do around the ethics of our food? Should we think more about the food we eat and serve others? Is that a religious obligation?
I’d love to hear what Busted Halo readers think about this. Comment below.
When I was in middle school hanging out by the local shopping plaza, I saw these two kids (a year younger than I) riding their bikes around. Don’t ask me why, but I had this sudden urge to talk to one of them. Just that one. But I had nothing to say. He was younger, I never seen him before, and he was with his friend I was with mine. So I just kept walking, and looking back every now and then as if making sure he’s still there; Okay.
A few minutes later this kid got hit by a car crossing the highway by the shopping plaza. People started running to his side, cars stopped, and at that point I was the furthest one away. My friend and I went over and saw a helmet on one side, a smashed bike on a completely different side.
Why did I have this ridiculous urge to talk to a complete stranger? Why didn’t I just say hi, anything, that would stop him for just one second before he got onto that highway?
I bring this up now because right by that plaza, for years, were flowers, stuffed animals, and crosses in his commemoration. But recently, when I drove past after not driving past for a couple of years, it was basically all gone with the exception of a few dried up flowers and a cross left over. Where did it all go? Why did people stop putting flowers there? Does the family still think about that day every single day?
I don’t think about that day every day. But I do every time I pass that post. It’s a memory for me at least of how I could have saved someone’s life if I just listened to myself a little more.
How many times did we have a gut feeling, or an intuition, and didn’t go with it? What if we could be saving someone’s life every day if we just said what we felt, did what we knew was right, followed the journey we were meant to follow? That day changed me. It breaks my …
Did you read Sunday’s Modern Love column this week in the New York Times Style section?
A woman on a yearlong voyage studying the Prophet Jesus in Islam rendezvous with a French novice monk. They feel an immediate connection to one another, but can they fall in love? Author Stephanie Saldana writes a great piece on this experience titled “Signs, Wonders and Fates Fulfilled.”
I’d love to hear what you think about this column. If you have stories about yourself or a friend who turned back from becoming a nun, priest or monk for a different kind of love, a romantic love, I’d love to hear! I’m sure the rest of us would too.
Can anyone here reading this post fathom the idea of turning off their phones, laptops, and putting away the car keys for one night and one full day every single week for the rest of their lives? This 25-hour cleansing period sounds like some sort of reality show experiment, and I wasn’t willing to sign up to try it out. But I was looking for a way to meditate and self-reflect in Judaism, and there it was — Shabbat. Just that, a 25-hour resting, meditative period. I loved it.
Shabbat, for those who never experienced it, is not something that is purely a Jewish concept. It is in biblical text that G-d created for six days, and on the seventh He rested. The Jewish religion took this idea very literally, and every Friday to Saturday sundown religious and cultural Jews alike stop. They just stop and put their lives on hold for a little bit. The outcome? Well, try it out and you tell me.
Tonight, Shabbat starts at sundown. If you’re inclined to just take a break, do some self-reflection, have a get together of friends and loved ones, try it out. Let me know how it goes.
As much as I’d love to be eloquent when it comes to speaking Torah, it’s difficult when one, such as myself, slacks reading the holy text, going to Torah classes or synagogue. But, with my love of email and all, I get my dose of inspiration through the newsletters of my favorite rabbis. One of these is Rabbi David Wolpe who recently wrote a post about just this, yearning to learn:
Knowing where to find information is not the same as possessing it. Each fact we learn is arranged in the matrix of all we already know. One who knows how to Google “Shakespeare sonnets” cannot be compared to the one who has memorized Shakespeare’s sonnets. The latter carries the words with
him. The former is an accountant of knowledge; he knows where the treasure is, but it does not belong to him.
Real education instills a desire for knowledge, not merely the tools to acquire it. We are shaped by what we know and what we yearn to know. The Talmud tells us that as a young man Hillel was so desperate for words of Torah that he climbed on the roof of the study house to hear the discourses of his great predecessors, Shemaya and Avtalion. Noticing the darkness, they looked up and saw the young man on the skylight, covered with snow. The rabbis rescued Hillel, washed and anointed him, and sat him by the fire.
“If you want to build a ship,” wrote Antoine de Saint Exupery, “don’t drum up people together to collect wood and don’t assign them tasks and work, but rather teach them to long for the sea.”
The above was written by Rabbi Wolpe. Of course, he could say it better than I could. The moral of the story for me was, before we feel guilty for not doing the things we feel we are supposed to do to get closer to G-d, let’s think about why we want to get close to G-d in the first place. Then maybe we’ll take the steps we feel are right to build that relationship.
Two Fridays ago, I packed my bag with some of my cutest sundresses and SPF 15, and set flight for the Virgin Islands. Little did I know I’d experience one of the holiest places I’ve ever been to. This place I now call Heaven on Earth never drops below 72 degrees, even in the middle of the night. The sun is always shining, and people are always smiling. You can even swim among the sea turtles in the middle of their waters, and see more star than sky at night. I was blessed to have been there.
Nothing makes me happier than seeing people who know they live in G-d’s creations. “This is yours,” said one taxi driver. It is, isn’t it? Almost every few roads we passed had a church, or fences with graffiti saying “G-d makes everything alright” or car decals that say “Reliance on G-d = success.” It’s as if everyone there doesn’t question G-d existence, but knows He exists because it’s just too gorgeous a place to have been created by random.
Instead of falling in love with my tan (got an awful sunburn) or prancing around in sundresses (wore mostly t-shirts and shorts), I kind of just hung out with G-d instead – in the form of water and sand, sunlight, positive people and energy, sea turtles and birds, and even, a synagogue.
Hidden way upside a hill in St. Thomas is a gorgeous synagogue with sand floors and lots of sunlight, all in its original form dating back to 1833. See photos below.
It’s always amazing to find meaning sitting in the middle of history, or some of the world’s most beautiful beaches. If you can’t find G-d at home, maybe it’s time to take a trip. G-d doesn’t sit still. Why should we?
I’m getting ready to set sail for the Islands in a few days, and I couldn’t help but ask myself the question: If I were stranded, what three things would I want with me?
To my surprise, the answer was not so difficult – a Trader Joe’s food market, a Barnes & Noble bookstore (with a Starbucks, of course) and a really rad, super adventurous guy to share my time with. That, to me, was more like an ideal life situation than a survival hypothetical. I thought it was too easy. So I tried to think harder but the answer didn’t change. What I didn’t ask for, even after reevaluating, was a Bible or a synagogue. How come?
If you were on an island, all by yourself, what three things would you want with you? Would you ask for a Bible or Church, or both? And if so, why? What would you sacrifice in its place?
I’ll be thinking more about my answer while I’m sipping daiquiris in the middle of the sand. I look forward to hearing what you all say when I get back.
Tonight is Shabbat, and I’ve been thinking about how to prepare. I’m not making a big fancy dinner, or going to synagogue. But I want to do something to feel that I am part of this tradition dating back to Genesis.
Every Friday night, Jewish women who observe the Sabbath light two white candles and say a prayer. In Hebrew, they pray to G-d for their family, their house guests, for Shabbat and are given time to silently add anything else on their minds. I remember the first time I tried it on my own. I tried really hard to remember the Hebrew by heart, but couldn’t, so I read it instead. I prayed for a non-Jewish friend who was going through a hard time. Then I stopped and said Amen. The coolest part about it was that it wasn’t about me. I felt I had power to tell G-d what to do and who to look after. I also thought about how if thousands of other women are in their homes saying the same prayer at the same time as me, G-d has to listen. It was amazing to be part of something like that.
Since then, my prayers have gotten longer and longer. One time I prayed for half hour for everyone I could think of. This prayer is typically two minutes in length to start off Shabbat.
In my previous post “Hey G-d, call me,” I wrote about how I couldn’t find inspiration to get back into the flow of growing Jewishly; spiritually. As a writer, sometimes you write when you’re inspired. Other times you write to get inspired. Tonight, I’m going to light candles after not having done so in weeks. I hope, and I almost know, it will be my way of breaking the ice with G-d and saying hey, can we talk? I have spiritual-block. I’m looking to get inspired.
How many of you have a tradition that brings you closer to G-d, even if it‘s yours only? I’d love to know about it. Maybe even try it out myself.
I watched the movie Nine the other day, starring some of my all-time favorite actors and actresses Kate Hudson, Marion Cottilard, Sophia Loren and of course Daniel Day-Lewis. Daniel plays Guido Contini, this seductionist movie maker who somewhere between creating movies and living the life of fame gets lost between reality and cinema (based on the true story of). I thought the film was highly intense, emotional, and displayed an interesting struggle of religion’s role on one’s humanity.
After the scenes of the mistresses, the women half naked dancing on stage and the poor wife who watches it all happen, a flashback of Guido’s childhood getting slashes from a priest for watching a woman do a striptease of sorts was the memory the movie chooses to go back to. At some point after the success of his career, Guido meets the Pope for spiritual guidance. He is unhappy, miserable even, with his life of mistresses and excess. The Pope tells him he is a huge fan of his movies.
More recently, I have been intrigued by the role religion plays on sexuality and vice versa. I thought this movie drew an interesting introspection into how religion can scare us away to choosing a life of fantasy over law, and yet how hyper-sexuality can take us away from the beauty a religious life can offer. How do we find the balance?
Awhile back I wrote about this type of struggle in regards to Jewish dating — this concept of shomer negiah, not touching the opposite sex at all until marriage, versus secular dating of one-night stands. You can read the piece “The Touch of Two Worlds” here. Neither side of the extreme seems to be what G-d intended, in my opinion, so how do we find that balance and what affect does that have on our sexual and religious outlook later on?
Nine made me think a lot about this. It made me think a lot in general. It’s creativity, and struggle, and finding oneself in the balance of the two, was fascinating.
Growing up, I used to talk to G-d all the time. I had these long conversations with Him at night. Looking back it was probably only-child syndrome. I needed someone to tell all my ups and downs to, all my wishes, all my thanks.
One time when I was 11 years old I asked G-d for curly hair. I saw this blonde girl on TV with the coolest curls ever and I kneeled by my bedside like they do on TV and prayed, and prayed. Lo and behold puberty struck, and I was gifted with the frizziest, most unruly set of curly hair. Even my long-time hairstylist since I was six did not know what to do with it. Thanks G-d. I never doubted His existence since.
Sometimes it feels G-d actually does listen. Sometimes it does not. Lately, it’s been harder to communicate with him, almost like having an awkward conversation with an old friend after a falling out. More like a falling out where neither party really knows why they stopped talking in the first place.
The past couple of weeks I haven’t lit candles on Shabbat. I haven’t kept Shabbat at all really. I haven’t prayed. I’ve been dreaming about oysters (not kosher) and ignoring my weekly Torah emails. But I think about G-d all the time. I wish he’d call and say hi. I wish he’d apologize for making me go through the most important years of my life (middle school) with frizzy hair. Maybe I’m just a little burnt out. Maybe I need a vacation, or some sun. Maybe I just need some more G-d in my life.
What are ways to start talking to an old friend again? What do you do when you realize this friend plays a huge role in your life? What do you do when you’re both too stubborn to start the conversation?
I need a serious dinner date with G-d. Have any suggestions?
This past Saturday there was a blizzard here on the East Coast. I wouldn’t have minded really. I would have sat around in my pajamas and drank myself into a hot chocolate coma. Only this Saturday was special. I was organizing a concert expecting 300 to arrive, only to find out the two headlining bands canceled and people were too scared to drive in.
I probably should have panicked, and cried. I almost did. But luckily I stayed calm, after a few choice words to the one band’s manager for canceling an hour before the show.
The truth is though, despite everything out of my control going wrong, it was out of my control. We can plan with one another, but we can’t plan with G-d. In Kaballah, we believe that “This too is for good.” That when things blow up in our face, and all our plans change without consent, that G-d is preparing us for something great. I really felt that way as my partner-in-crime Annie and I got the show going, with 100 people who arrived trekking through a blizzard, to be there supporting the show.
We ended up with some great performances, including Dusty Brown who arrived on last-minute call to save the day. We raised money and awareness for a great charity TWLOHA (www.TWLOHA.com) and even had the unexpected surprise of having the founder come out and meet us. We partied with friends who wouldn’t just say they’d risk their lives for us, but actually did! The best part was sharing the stage with Annie who, when the two of us get together, always make lemonade out of thin air and come out with just one more story for our someday memoirs.
I know attitude is really important in getting by in life. Thinking about G-d’s intentions always helps me see things in the right attitude. Why are certain people in my life? Why did I just fall on my face in front of everyone? Why did a blizzard show up on a really important night? These are all things to ask ourselves and in getting over ourselves. It’s …
In celebration of my blog The Jew Spot‘s Two Year Anniversary, along with my best friend Annie’s YouSingIWrite.com, we are throwing an amazing charity concert in New York City this Saturday night, December 19th, to raise money and awareness for To Write Love On Her Arms (www.TWLOHA.com).
TWLOHA is all about helping young people who have lost hope and are on the verge of suicide or coping with depression. The organization has made great waves and have been highly publicized for their amazing work. We’re here to acknowledge this organization for doing what all of us spiritual people do, which is celebrate life and help others in finding meaning and purpose too.
The concert will feature four amazing bands plus guest appearances from up-and-coming celebrities. Details are on the flyer. Please rsvp on our Facebook page HERE. You can purchase tickets on the page as well.
I hope to see you there. If you have any questions, please write to me at findmyjewspot@gmail.com.
So Chanukah, the festival of lights, started this past Friday night! Yay. Chanukah is one of my favorite holidays because it requires the least amount of thinking. Each night you light a candle, eat a potato pancake, receive a gift and go to bed. Somewhere in between you count your blessings and the miracles in your life. Overall, it’s a non-threatening eight nights.
This year I started off the holiday a little differently. Perhaps it’s because of my blog and new association with the Jewish world that I was invited to some of the more interesting holiday parties. Such as the one I attended Saturday night called Menorah Horah — a burlesque performance with Jewish women dancing with dreidels and menorahs. Sounds absolutely ridiculous, right? But it may have been one of the best educational experiences I’ve had about the holiday, and how else would one get a packed room of hipsters on a Saturday night for a Chanukah event?
For example, I learned the century the story of Chanukah is based on (Second Century BC), the type of oil which allowed the miracle of the candles to burn bright for 8 days (olive) and the Hebrew word for devotion (Chanukah!). I also learned that Google prefers the holiday spelled Hanukkah. My mistake.
Though I could never get myself to strip down to celebrate my Jewishness, I applaud the ladies up there who can. It was just one more eye-opener for me to see that while institutional Judaism is diminishing, Judaism is not. There are a ton of young people taking it upon themselves to spread Judaism far and wide (read my latest interview with Punk Torah’s Patrick A). And if it can reach to the burlesque stage in Brooklyn, New York, I actually have a good feeling for the rest of us Jewish folk that we’ll all be able to find our place in Judaism too.
One of the hardest things for me as I was growing in my Judaism was to feel as if I had to give up other parts of myself. I now …
Today I discovered Tony Robbins on Twitter. Tony is a motivational coach who tours around the world shaking people up with his universal truths. You can watch his video here. I was struck by his quote “Let others lead small lives, not you. Let others argue over small things, not you. Let others cry over small hurts, not you…” I guess it came to me at a time I needed to read it, but now I’m kind of obsessed with the guy. He’s becoming my personal rabbi — though not Jewish at all, I don‘t think.
I like Tony because he inspires people in the place they need inspiration. He helps people build physical strength, emotional stamina, spiritual fulfillment and find the relationship or career they desire. He gets crowds from around the world to hear his story, and helps them see the world differently; larger. He has a foundation to feed the hungry. And his words are so simple, but so obvious that they hit even harder. These basic words make me wonder what has happened in our lives that make us think so small.
It’s funny, as I watch Tony, how much I can’t help but think these lessons are not much different from those in Torah. Rick Warren, Joel Osteen, The Dalai Lama, Shmuley Boteach have become some of our world-renowned spokespeople spreading message of hope, positive attitude, gratitude, and helping others through holy wisdom. They are all some of my favorites. The question I have then is what is the difference between a spiritual guide speaking from the Book and a motivational speaker speaking world truths? Are they in fact the same? Can people find G-d’s message without G-d’s assigned messengers, or outside of G-d‘s worship place?
After watching my seventh Tony Robbins video today, it makes me think to open up my eyes and ears to what anyone and everyone has to say because, possibly, they are all messages from G-d and shouldn’t be dismissed so quickly. Today I found G-d in Tony Robbins on Twitter. Where did you find G-d today?
In May, I wrote a piece about a new website called Shaindy.com. You may remember reading the article “Unkosher Sex” here on Busted Halo. The article and the interview with the founder got a lot of attention, and a lot of response. But more than love or hate mail, I got a lot of “Well, what do you think?” mail.
For those who are unfamiliar, Shaindy is a website created by an ultra-religious Jewish man which ultimately fosters extramarital affairs. This website is tailored to the religious Jewish community, who not only seek affairs, but are involved in forums which speak of the benefit of having extramarital relations plus a section to upload pornography which can only be viewed as a member. Luckily, I was given VIP access.
Some of you right now are asking how a religious man can justify creating such a platform? I asked those questions too which you can read on my blog at The Jew Spot. Sadly, the guy wasn’t just looking to sell something, he was looking to fill a need — one that was very apparent when you search the term “frum” in Craigslist’s casual encounters. How does he justify it?
“I was ‘brought’ up religious but I believe in sh** basically. So, I have no GUILT in me whatsoever. I find many, many, many people sharing the same beliefs as myself.” He also says people always like to think that “we are holier than thou” and it does not happen here. “But that’s not the case,“ he says. “Our community has the same needs as any other community let it be dating, drugs, cheating or whatever and it’s silly to think we are ‘different.’ Yes, in deed, there are lots of miserable people here.”
So OK, I just retold the story once more. But the question was what do I think about it, which is a much harder question to answer. The truth is, at first, I was entirely creeped out. I couldn’t believe a community that was built around Torah, commandments, family and education were also building websites to sleep …
Stand up. Sit down. I’m standing now for hours at a time – exhausted, and famished. Repeat. Repeat. In Hebrew and in English. Clop your heart for the following sins. I am clopping my heart to sins I did not commit or did not feel sorry for committing. Take time for the silent devotion. I pray on my own terms. But I am still exhausted, and famished, and unmoved.
Yom Kippur may just be the most difficult holiday. It’s a holiday of transcendence. It’s for letting go of the past and moving toward the future a slightly better person. It’s about asking for forgiveness from G-d, from others, and most importantly from oneself. But this year I felt nothing, and it made me question my faith. Maybe I wasn’t as prepared as I should have been. Or maybe it’s that I didn’t understand the Hebrew. But I don’t think that was it.
In a book I just read entirely not related to Judaism or religion, there was a quote referencing the Buddhist thought that there are six billion doors to heaven and we each have our own. I thought that was profound, and beautiful. And not at all antithetical to Judaism – but so poignant and so accessible that how can one not find G-d through Buddhism? It feels that in most religions, if you want G-d, there is personal guidance to meet Him. In Judaism, I find it to be a constant struggle. We don’t have Zen books of wisdom, or priests who bring us personally to G-d’s presence… we have a book and teachers who tell us to find Him our self. This Yom Kippur, I could not find Him. Where was He?
But something interesting did happen. While I was so wrapped up in attempting Jewish prayer and praying for the Jewish people, I found my mind drifting toward the girls trafficked around the world – something I’ve been reading a lot about lately. I felt myself in tears, talking to G-d, asking what I can do. I realized institutional prayers or staying within a religious community was never the
