Life is a Narrow Bridge

As I write this, my congregation is singing a beautiful prayer, "L'dor vador", wishing hope and peace to pass from generation to generation. L'dor vador. From generation to generation. The awe of Rosh Hashanah is not lost on me, but my tradition is different from sitting inside with a joy-filled community. Instead, my childhood memories of Rosh Hashanah were secular visits to the Vermont woods. The leaves would begin their colorful prayer of farewell, making way for a new generation of green. My father and I would walk on the crunchy paths of new-fallen foliage or on the soft velvet of pine needles.  He would point out sassafras roots and spiderwebs, and if I was really lucky, he would tell imaginative stories about "The Beast which has no Name."   Now , though, my love for music brings me to Congregation Kehilat Shalom.  Nana taught me piano on magical Sundays of my childhood and I feel like it is my duty, joy, and privilege to share the gift I was ...

Yiddish is a language with playful imagery. Even with its curses, it manages to tickle the imagination. For example, an enemy might wish you to "grow like an onion with your head in the ground." As a child, I cringed at this one: "May all your teeth fall out except for one, and with that one may you have a toothache." It reminded me of the Richard Scarry artwork with the lion's face all wrapped up before going to the dentist. The most serious curse, however, has nothing amusing about it.  It speaks a lot about a people who value memory and education. It echoes of the belief that, as long as you are remembered, you live on. "May your name be erased." In Judaism, names are important. Traditionally, you are named after a recently deceased relative. (This is not the case with me, but my grandma's last words to me were "Toby is a very, very nice name." I named a cat after her.).  Last names were only introduced in the cul...