In an Indian market, cars and people are forced to go around the cows and pigs, which don't bother to move.

When I was traveling in India, I once had an argument with a friend.  I had made a comment about how so many things in India are, well… lazy.  I didn’t mean it in any disrespectful manner, it was simply an observation about a place in the world where the cows stand around in the middle of the street, goats lounge around in the marketplace, and even the people are often seen to be relaxing and drinking chai at any hour of the day.  I didn’t mean it in a bad way; if anything I was amused; I was laughing, smiling.  Plus, if I made this comment to any of the other backpackers I met in my travels, they would laugh heartily at the truth of it.

A friend of mine, who is Indian by culture but who has never visited the country of her parents’ birth, took this to extreme offense.  In her mind, me calling anything this incredible and industrious nation lazy was the most extreme of insults.  This confused me: having traveled all over the world, I have never in my life seen farm animals chewing their cud in the middle of a busy highway before, not bothered to move at all.  So I called up a friend of mine who is Indian and who was born and raised in Delhi.  Her opinion of it? Not offensive; simply sad.  I was traveling in mostly poor areas of India (well, let’s be frank, that’s most of India) and I had never experienced the side of Indian life that she did, with the fancy gated house and personal chauffeur that she grew up with.  It’s a different world!

So how is it that the selfsame comment made in a spirit of pure wonderment and observation could be received, in turns, as hilarious, offensive, and disappointing?  It’s an important lesson in perspective and that’s what I chose to take away from it.  Sometimes we say things and we don’t know how they will be received.  We mean something one way but it’s taken a totally different way.  The Torah teaches us that we are responsible for the words we say and the impact they have, even if it’s not how we intended it.  In Torah, it’s not always the thought that counts – if we hurt someone, we are responsible and it’s up to us to apologize and ask forgiveness, no matter how right or wrong we think the other person is to feel that way.

So when I read Rabbi Ephraim Schwartz’s d’var Torah this week, it really struck a nerve with me. This week’s Torah portion, he points out, begins with a recounting of all the places the Jews visited on their trip through the desert.  Forty years’ worth of history leading up to their entry into the land of Israel.  Why is this list so important? Because it is each “place” we visit in life that colors our perspective on life, shapes us, and helps us become who we are.  How can we understand who the Jews were as they entered Israel, if we don’t know where they’ve been and what they’ve been through?  You can’t really understand a person’s actions and reactions until you fully understand their unique life journey.

These two cows don't seem to be bothered by the cars and busses going by. I watched them alternately walk and stand in the road for a long time, never once bothering to move out of the way of the many vehicles and people that had to dodge them.

Ultimately, that’s what happened with my friends and their three radically different responses to my statement.  The backpackers laughed because they, too, had spent the last few months traveling in India and seeing the way it works, with the bovines in the streets too lazy in the hot, humid haze to move, even in the face of oncoming trucks – a common and comic sight.  My friend from back home reacted based on her cultural pride and her love of national origin, tinged with romance and backed by a life of relative luxury lived entirely in the first world.  My other friend reacted with sadness because, having grown up in India she knows the truth of the observation, but also because, having grown up in the upper class, she was always on the inside, looking out. And me? This entire incident became another stop on my journey through life, another lesson learned, another teaching integrated into my life and my perspective.

As we continue to journey through each of our lives, let’s stop and reflect for a moment on past stops we’ve made, both good and bad, and consider how they’ve helped make us who we are.  And in doing so, let us focus on gaining perspective about ourselves and about others and the journeys they, too, have made.

SHABBAT SHALOM!

Bolivia children working in mines

This morning I was doing some research on some companies’ stock that deal in mining and I thought of my mining experience in Bolivia.

I did a tour of some mines in Bolivia, which I don’t recommend for the claustrophobic. My guide first took me to buy bottles of sugary juice and coca leaves to gift to the miners. It was not a touristy thing where one pays an entrance fee. These were real mines with real people working in them. It was dangerous.  Some of the areas we went through would not be safe enough by law to operate in any developed country, let alone take a tourist through.

The workers were friendly and appreciated the drinks and coca leaves. The coca leaves alleviate their pain and discomfort and the drinks quench their constant thirst. I met workers as young as 12 years old working in the mines.  “It is dangerous work,” they told me, “and all of us have friends who died.”

One of the highlights: My guide took me to a shop that sold everything a miner needs (including 98% proof alcohol, for consumption). I bought a stick of dynamite and fuse, for only $1.50. My guide showed me to an empty field where we lit the dynamite. Two minutes later there was a big ‘BOOM,’ a nice treat for the pyromaniac inside of me.

The working conditions are extremely unhealthy and hazardous. Having met the boys working in the mines of Bolivia and experienced crawling through passageways that can give in at any moment, I came to a deeper appreciation of how lucky we are for the life we live and how much more I should give thanks to G-d.

A Purim party at B'nei Israel in Norfolk

Norfolk, Virginia is not exactly a place known for its religious Jews.  It’s popular for its seafood, for its Navy connections, and for the beaches of nearby Virginia Beach – hardly a very kosher host of superlatives.  Yet, Norfolk is home to two thriving orthodox Jewish communities (as well as an enormous conservative synagogue) and even boasts of having an eruv. And even if there’s no kosher restaurant, there is at least a kosher bagel place!

Norfolk is the community where I first became exposed to orthodox Judaism back in 2004.  It was nice to go back and visit this weekend.  It was a trip down memory lane to walk the same streets, visit the same homes, and sit in the same seat in shul.

Norfolk is a mostly black-hat community, the kind of place where nearly all the men wear suits on Shabbat (even if it’s hot), yet it’s not an extreme community at all.  It’s not a singing-dancing-drinking kind of shul; it tends to be much more serious than that in terms of community religious observance. Yet, the mood of the synagogue is decidedly lighthearted and there is always a l’chaim available for those who want one.  The community also takes hachnosas orchim very seriously, so if you call up the shul (B’nei Israel – (757) 627-7894), there is an option to have someone provide you with Shabbos accommodations and meals, and if you don’t call ahead, you can just show up at shul – there is always an announcement offering Shabbos meals to anybody who needs them.

Many of the people living in the Norfolk community are ba’al teshuva, so they didn’t grow up orthodox, but became religious later in life.  As a result, there is a very relaxed attitude in the community, which is open and accepting.  Women there might wear short sleeves or hats, even as their husbands insist on wearing suits.  You could pretty much show up in any kind of outfit and nobody would judge you, having been there themselves.  It’s a great feeling and it’s why I was able to open my mind up to orthodoxy while I was there.

Unfortunately, I have never really experienced the Chabad of Norfolk.  When I first became involved in the community, Norfolk had a kollel that was extremely active in outreach (or “inreach”!) and I was so well taken care of that I had no interest in going elsewhere.  Now that I am traveling and spending Shabbat in a different place almost every week, I am excited about seeing a new side of Norfolk! Hopefully in the coming weeks we will have a chance to check it out.

Parrots in Copan, Honduras

Friday night we ate by this guy who is an orthodox Jew who does stand-up comedy at a number of venues around Norfolk, Richmond, and Newport News, Virginia. The amazing thing is that he goes into the comedy clubs and does his shtick wearing a kippah and showing he is proud to be a Jew.

We had a fun time at the Shabbat table throwing jokes back and forth. And it inspired me to post a series of jokes I used in my last routine when singing and telling jokes for a group of seniors in Florida.

Shlomo is walking past a pet shop and sees a bright colorful parrot in the window. He gets an idea; “This would make the perfect pet for my mother because they’ll be able to talk to each other.”

He enters the shop and engages the parrot in a few languages to see if it’s a good fit for his mother.

“Parele Vou France?” He asks the bird.

“Oui Je Parle France,” replies the bird.

“Habla Español?”

“Sí, hablo.”

Shlomo thinks there is no chance this bird can speak Yiddish!

“Kenst Yiddish?” He asks.

And the parrot without missing a beat replies: “Mit Za a loinge noz bist mir nisht a yid!” (“With such a long nose am I not a Jew?”)

So he buys the bird and sends it to his mother. After a few days he calls her and asks “So Ma, how’s the bird I sent you?”

“Ahhhh the bird,” she says. “It vas delicious!”

So Shlomo buys his mother a second parrot and explains to her that she is not supposed to eat the bird. Well this new parrot has foul language (no pun intended) and is swearing all the time.

Mrs. Shwartz threatens the parrot, “If you keep saying zis not kosher langvetch I vill put you in ze freezer and in ze freezer it is very cold and you vont like it.”

The parrot keeps swearing and Mrs. Shwartz puts him in the freezer. The parrot begins to shriek all kinds of obscenities, and then soundly is silent. Mrs. Shwartz waits a few minutes after hearing not a sound from the parrot and opens the freezer to find the parrot sitting in a corner staring back at her.

And the parrot says, “What did the chicken do?”

Here is alink from a TED conference with a brilliant talking parrot.

My Brother and Scoutmaster Playing Taps on the Bugle

We spent Shabbat in Norfolk, Virginia, which has a thriving Jewish community. We’ll write more about the Jewish communities around the area, over the next couple weeks as we stay here and visit them. What was amazing to me was running into an old friend from Boy Scouts. We were part of the same Shabbat and kosher-observant Boy Scout troop out of Sharon, Massachusetts. I overheard his name and recognized it immediately. I knew his whole family well from all the scouting activities we did. It has been probably twelve years since we last saw each other. We spoke Shabbat afternoon about the good old Jewish scouting days. I remembered how when I lost my kippah at camp his mother had an extra one from his brother’s Bar Mitzvah, which she gave me. We spoke about the Ponderosa camp, where we would each get our own horse for the week. We had to clean it, feed it, and ride it. Those were some fun old days.

By the nature of traveling around the world I’m often bumping into long-lost friends. There is actually a special beracha/blessing that one makes one seeing a friend for the first time. One makes a berach, blessing when seeing a friend for the first time in 30 days.

Baruch Ata Adonai, Eloheinu Melech HaOlam, shechechianu, v’ki’manu, v’higi’anu lazman hazeh.

This means: Blessed are You, Adonai Our God, Ruler of the Universe, Who has kept us alive, sustained us, and brought us to this time.

There is also a blessing which is made if one has not seen the friend in over one year. This blessing traselates as thanking G-d who revives the dead: “Baruch Ata Adonai, Eloheinu Melech HaOlam, mehayeh hameitim.”

One must also have had no communication with the person during the thirty days or the year in order to make the beracha. Making these blessings does not seem to be well-practiced today. Perhaps this is because we live in different times where it is really not so amazing to see someone again after a year.  People travel all the time. People go on a Sabbatical or away to school and come back after a year. It’s normal. But in the old days when someone would set out on a journey by land or by sea it was very possible that you may never meet again. Children would leave their parents to go to a far-off country knowing they may never see each other again, and therefore the beracha of ‘one who revives the dead,’ makes sense to say, as with the blessing of ‘shechachianu’ said after thirty days. Imagine if you were traveling by horse and carriage across the US a few hundred years go. When you’d come back and meet a friend it would be a special event. But now if you fly from New York for a holiday in Florida or the other way round, thirty days passing is nothing special.

Some hold that you should say the blessing without G-d’s name, which is what I like to do.

Here is a write-up about my Eagle Scout Court of honour that took place in a Synagogue, one of the special memories I share with my friend I met this Shabbos.