This blog post was written by ISJL Education Fellow Missy Goldstein.
It is almost without fail that calling my Bubbe leads to a question or two about my love life.
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
Or, more specifically: “Have you met any nice Jewish boys?”
My response is always something along the lines of: “Bubbe, I live in Jackson, Mississippi. There aren’t a whole lot of Jewish boys my age around here. The ones I do know I work with. Two have girlfriends, and one of those is also my roommate.”
I grew up hearing sweet and genuine love stories, such as that of my parents who met as USY advisors at International Convention, or my camp counselors who had their first kisses under the kissing tree at camp, or seeing the beautiful pictures from a wedding of a friend who met her husband freshman year of college at Hillel. All of these beautiful relationships have created the pressure for me to find a nice Jewish mate.
But after 13 years of Jewish summer camp, 12 years of religious school, and 4 years of Hillel involvement I have a lot of amazing friends, none of whom I want to date. Sorry, guys.
Recently, I read 40 Days of Dating—a blog about two people who had been friends for many years before starting an experiment to see if they could make it as a couple. Just like any other experiment, theirs has rules by which both parties have agreed to live: Seeing each other every day, visiting a couple’s counselor once a week, and, of course, documenting everything.
Imagine: changing the dynamics of a relationship with someone you’ve known for a long time.
Imagine: creating possibilities where there seem to be none.
In the South, some of our Jewish communities are very insular. We’ve been going to camp and Sunday school with the same people from such a young age that we can’t help but see them as siblings, or those crazy kids who pulled the stupid prank. But what if we tried this experiment with a friend? Even if it doesn’t work out, we’ve spent 40 more days with a great friend, learned about ourselves through self- and couple- reflection, and are potentially that much closer to finding our beshert (soulmate). OR you could find that you really do have romantic feelings for each other.
I don’t want to ruin the end of their story for you, so I will just tell you that the two people who dated for forty days struggled with themselves and each other; they addressed problems and learned from one another; they became more aware of their actions. Who couldn’t use a little bit more of that in their life? It was inspiring – although I doubt I’m going to try a 40 days of dating experiment any time soon, I now have an idea for a “36 (2 x chai) Days of Judaism” program that I’m stoked to create for the religious schools I work with.
And Bubbe, don’t worry about me too much…just like many other Jews who have moved somewhere new, I ignored the Christian Mingle e-mails in my inbox, and I joined JDate.
This piece is by Education Fellow Amanda Winer.
As I was flying home from a recent trip to one of the amazing communities I get to visit as an ISJL Education Fellow, a hilarious thought came to my mind: sometimes, the only DOWN time I get is when I’m UP in the air.
That seemed meaningful – and made me think of what other meaning I might find if I put my mind to it. So I grabbed my pencil and started jotting down a list of all of the trips I had been on. And I feverishly tabulated. That’s when I realized that since beginning my fellowship in June 2012, I’d been on 88 individual airplanes.
88 apple juices with no ice in 88 tiny plastic cups. 88 pretzels or peanuts, though I usually choose the latter. 88 take offs and 88 landings. 88 times the flight attendant asked to turn off all electronics because the door was closed.
Since I was suspended 10,000 feet about the air with no cell phone reception to distract me, I kept just thinking. 88 is a pretty significant number in my life. First, there’s the fact that I love music, and there are 88 keys on the standard piano keyboard. Then, as is typical, I turned to my Jewish educator roots.
One of the many tools Judaism gives us to find meaning is gematria, a sort of “Jewish numerology,” which explores the significance of numbers and uses that to find meaning in the seemingly mundane. Now, seven is an important number in Judaism and gematria. It is a number that signifies perfection, wholeness. God created the world in an order of seven days. We rest on the seventh day. The omer, or the counting of days between Passover and Shavuot, is seven weeks.
So, what about eight?
Eight is a number that symbolizes what is beyond whole; something amazing and miraculous. Hanukkah, the holiday in which we celebrate miracles, lasts eight days. There’s the tradition of performing b’rit milah when a baby reaches eight days old – to celebrate the miracle of life. Eight is a miracle-number, and I like to think that miracles serve as a device, to remind us not to take life too seriously. Miracles are something to remind us how special and holy our lives are, and sometimes to distract us. Like magic! Therefore 88, two of these “magic” numbers side by side, must be significant.
The reality is, numerology is the same as anything: if you make the time to find the Jewish connection – it’s there! And as I continue traveling, the number of planes and visits will continue to grow and change, but the trips will all be meaningful… as will the numbers surrounding the journeys.
What do you think about gematria/numerology? Are there any numbers that have particular significance to you?
Today’s guest post comes from Rabbi Hank Bamberger of Utica, New York, who spent some time traveling in the South this summer as part of the ISJL’s Rabbis on the Road program. A version of this piece first appeared in the newsletter of the National Association of Retired Reform Rabbis, and is shared here with permission.
“You’re going WHERE in July?”
We couldn’t blame people for reacting that way. The answer was that my wife Sheila and I would be visiting four small congregations in four southern states – Arkansas, Louisiana, Oklahoma, and Texas – with a side trip to the URJ’s Jacobs Camp in Utica, MS, all this under the auspices of the Institute of Southern Jewish Life – and all during the summer.
My friend and colleague Rabbi David Klein, who had served as the rabbi in Monroe, LA, sent us an email assuring us that it would only be hot outside. No one else was that encouraging.
In spite of the heat concerns, we headed South – and we enjoyed ourselves thoroughly. Wherever we went, we were welcomed with true Southern hospitality. Each of the two Erev Shabbat services I conducted drew about a dozen and a half people. That may not sound like many, but percentage wise, it’s a lot. Consider this: Congregation Meir Chaim in McGehee, AR, has only seven families on its membership list!
Adult education in three congregations produced slightly lower numbers (!) but great enthusiasm. Talk at meals ranged from dealing with congregational matters to local and regional Jewish history to, inevitably, mutual acquaintances.
We even made some time to be tourists. The Clinton Library in Little Rock is worth a trip in itself, and if you go, the Little Rock Zoo is very nice as well. Of course, we saw lots of countryside. In nine days, we logged just over 1,500 miles of driving.
To top everything else off, the weather was mild (for summer in the South). Since our trip occurred during the terrible heat wave in the Northeast, it was hotter in Utica, NY than in Utica, MS. Go figure!
In short, we felt that we had made a contribution to those small congregations which work so hard to survive. A great way to spend our summer vacation, and I encourage other clergy interested in the Rabbis on the Road program to contact Rabbi Marshal Klaven at the ISJL.