GRATEFUL FOR A NEW YEAR

Amazing, isn't it? Another Jewish year has gone by. In only a few days most of us will be spending some time in the synagogue.There, we will participate in a litany of prayers petitioning God for a new year of peace, prosperity,health,success and happiness.
Anxieties will rise about the future,regrets about the past.
For so many, the focus of these few special days will be directed to:what's wrong?
What has been wrong in the past and what can go wrong in the future?
The path of gratefulness suggests a different approach. Rather than what's wrong, why not what's not wrong? Instead of dwelling on the disappointments of yesterday, why not consider the myriad delights of the year gone by? In place of the anxiety about tomorrow, what about the anticipation of all we can do to bring about joy and blessing for ourselves and for others?
Simply, if we find a place in our hearts to touch the thankfulness for all our blessings, I have little doubt that the New Year will indeed be one abundant in goodness and blessing.
May you all be inscribed in the book of life, blessing and gratefulness.Amen

Grateful for an “artistic” moment

I pulled into the driveway of our home in the Berkshires and there she was-my wife was on our deck, standing in front of an easel. Brush in hand, wide hat on her head, and a deep sense of gratefulness in her heart.
I simply sat in the car and basked in the moment of gratefulness knowing how essential painting is for my wife’s soul and for witnessing the quiet and intense joy on her face.
My wife is a wonderfully able social worker, responsible for a mental health clinic for children and adolescents. Her working life is stressful and demanding, yet rewarding. By and large there is very little beauty in her working life; abused children and spouses, dysfunctional families, people ensnared by addiction, failure and pain in the classroom, are the brush strokes of a colorless, grey, if not black world .The canvas of my wife’s work world is splattered with the oils of human struggle and indignity.
When a calm moment arrives-a long weekend, a summer vacation- she takes a well-deserved absence from the dark world of human tragedy and enters into a world of light and color-luscious green of rustling trees, swaths of sunshine and color, a world of sheer beauty.
I glanced at her canvas. I noticed what appeared to be arbitrary stroke of random color.
“Why did you make those strokes?” I asked. “What do they mean?”
She replied. “This is the sketch of the painting I am working on.” It made no immediate sense to me. I am barely capable of drawing a round face with a smile or a frown.
I then realized that every stroke was like a letter or word in a composition of writing. She had the talent and the training to understand the vocabulary of color. That was one of her many gifts, one that brought her an inner, core experience of joy. That was the thread of her creative life, a gift from the Universe ,one for which all who will see the finished painting will indeed be grateful.

Grateful for “standing on one leg.”

I slammed on my brakes. Arriving at a crossway in the center of town, a pedestrian was about to cross the street. He was navigating a mechanized wheel chair, a red flag perched at the rear announcing caution and care. The elderly man looked mad; tubes stuck out of his nose; his complexion was ashen and the skin of his bare legs was a raw red.
I could not help but watch him hurriedly roll by and imagine how difficult a life he must endure. Wondering about his destination I learned that he was on his way to the town library. I continued my ride.
On the way, I passed a local cemetery, one that would capture my fascination with each
ride by. On a hill, the stones dark gray, even black, many barely standing , tilting to one side. One stone stood on one point of its four corners, seemingly defying the force of gravity.
In life and in death, we are often left with only one leg to stand on. The gentleman crossing the crossway had his library, a book would support his final days, however painful and humiliating. The deceased had a stone, however unstable, to remind the world of his life. As long as it stood, even on “one leg,” it defied oblivion.
Whatever our handicaps and infirmities, we have a leg to stand on, some part of life that sustains us and helps us understand that life is, in the final analysis, worthwhile. It falls to us to recognize this support and find gratitude for it. If we do, we can, I believe, overcome any crossway and arrive safely on the other side.

GRATEFUL FOR "ORIGINAL" OATMEAL

I just returned from food shopping-a new feature of my life since retirement-and in the bag of groceries was a tin of oatmeal-John McCann steel cut Oat meal-on the cover of the tin the buyer is informed that it won a certificate of award at the international exhibition of 1876 and is produced in County Kildare, Ireland. I am not impressed by packaging gimmicks or clever advertising tricks;this product was recommended by a good friend and as someone who loves oatmeal I decided to give this brand a try. A further reluctance to purchase this item had to do with its preparation-it was not done instantaneously in a microwave but required the traditional procedures of boiling water, cooking the grains and letting the mixture simmer with occasional stirring.
Too much work, I thought!
Well, I am now hooked on my morning McCann's oatmeal. This simple act of boiling water and adding the oatmeal which takes no more than 15-20 minutes has been another lesson in learning to be grateful for the mystery of simple things in life.
To prepare the oatmeal has slowed me down internally.The need for patience, for the simple deliberate steps of measuring 2 cups of water, bringing the water to a brisk boil, stirring the oatmeal, allowing it to simmer, all introduce a ritual or practice that reminds me to be mindful of what I eat and how I arrive at a delicious food that is both edible and nutritious.
Other remarkable benefits bless this activity. Have you ever carefully observed the dance of brisk popping bubbles in a pot of boiling water? Have you ever stopped to listen to these tiny balloons pop in the hush of an early morning"s sacred silence? Have you ever witnessed the miracle of a natural hard grain transforming itself into a soft and spongy substance ,a source of nurturance and life for humans and other sentient beings? Have you ever inhaled the warm, sweet scents of a breakfast of steaming oatmeal evoking olifactory memories of a child snuggled under protective covers on an early morning of a cold winter's day?

Together with morning prayers, I have added the preparation of oatmeal to my daily act of thanksgiving and gratitude. Who knows? Perhaps this simple act will lead to the more elaborate preparation of cooking full meals for my wife and family!

GRATEFUL FOR "KVETCHING."

The title of this posting appears contradictory; if one is grateful, it is not necessary to kvetch-translation of Yiddish-complain. If one kvetches, obviously one is not feeling very grateful.
How do we reconcile the two?
I propose that the ability to kvetch- to complain, to vent our unhappiness and protest what we perceive is unfair in our lives is a healthy outlet which could lead to an awareness of gratitude for what is. Often kvetching is like a cleansing of our feelings and thoughts which block the flow of positive energy in the world and inhibit our ability to connect to that for which we can be grateful. There are times we have to get the negativity off our chests. To paraphrase the Bible-“There is no man on earth who does not kvetch or at least have the desire to do so.” It is so natural to complain, entirely human. Because of the ease by which we can complain the challenge of seeing the world gratefully becomes even greater and more daunting. In fact, one can argue that to transcend our proclivity for kvetching is in some way a spiritually heroic act; after all, whenever we resist or overcome natural obstacles or hurdles in our lives, we arrive at special moments of personal achievement that can be regarded as significant steps of human spiritual advancement.
Tisha B’Av, the fast day of mourning, sadness, protest and anger was experienced only yesterday. This day hearkens back to experiences of kvetching . According to the Rabbis, when the spies and Israel were gripped by fear and negativity and complained bitterly to God that the Land of Israel was beyond their grasp and they would all perish in the wilderness, it was the Ninth of Av.
Thus, kvetching can go too far, and create the static that interferes with the clear communication of life’s blessings and goodness.
Today we turn toward the Fifteenth of Av-Tu B’Av; just 6 days after commemorating destruction and tragedy we are bidden to let go of our kvetching, no matter how legitimate, and reach out to the experience of “dancing in the vineyards,” a metaphor for the sweetness and joy of life’s many gifts.
May we find the strength to make our way from the kvetching in the desolation of our tragic history to rediscover the “grapes of gratitude” in the vineyards of tomorrow’s promise
Shabbat Shalom-May this Shabbat "Nachamu" comfort us all.

GRATEFUL FOR STUDENTS

I have just completed one of my most enjoyable teaching experiences;in large part the satisfaction was derived from a fortunate mix of students who represented different walks of life and ideological perspectives but were open to pursue their social work studies with a unified aim of becoming effective and caring social workers.
The bulk of the class was comprised of Orthodox men and women, with the men being either rabbis or studying to become Orthodox rabbis.One student was Afro-American, another an atheist and a two others were secular Jews. They were all bright, intelligent, and "good people." They argued and debated enthusiastically, even heatedly but always respectfully.
What gave me the greatest sense of gratefulness was their genuine kindness and concern for one another and for their clients.
Another source of gratitude was my ability to be silly and sometimes humorous while enjoying an open responsiveness from the class. It is truly wonderful to be free when you teach and not constricted by institutional constraints or expectations of those who pay your salary. As I make my way into my "retirement " phase of life, I discover greater areas of freedom and openness in my writing and teaching. I can't adequately express what a gift that is, and how grateful I am for it.
The time whizzed by; each class was over "before it began;" I am saddened by its ending but fully aware that endings consist of feelings of gratitude for time well spent, for receiving again another gift of living "to teach and to learn."
Thank you, students of the Block program of the Wurzweiler School of Social Work.

SIMPLY GRATEFUL

I stepped into the lobby of my apartment house, the magnificent clear and summery blue sky behind me. My eyes blinked, adjusting to the sudden darkness of the indoors.
I spotted an elderly gentleman, leaning on a cane, frail looking but with eyes wide open, as if awaiting the adventure of a new day. We have become friendly through the almost daily contact in the small exercise room in the basement of the apartment building. He rides the exercise bicycle to keep himself fit.
“Good morning, Irving. Where are you off to today?” I asked.
With large eyes twinkling good-naturedly, he replied: “Where else? The doctor needs some money so I‘m paying him a visit.!” We chuckled and shared a few more cordialities, then said goodbye. His wife acknowledging my presence by adding-“Where do you think we’re going?” her voice slightly aggravated but resigned.
I continued to the elevator. How sad-what a way to spend one’s final days-going to doctors!
A moment later it occurred to me that Irving has so much for which to be grateful. He lives in a comfortable apartment house, together with a loving wife of 60 years; He is able to exercise each day, however limitedly; his mind is alert, and he continues to be sociable and friendly. His greatest gift perhaps is his ability to visit his doctor almost every week.
Is there not something in all our lives for which to be thankful? If not, then I fear a reality of utter despair.
I thank Irving for reminding again that the core of our lives pivots around the gifts that we have, if only we are blessed with the vision to see them.
I close with much gratitude for the sun that has been hiding but has finally decided to reappear and bless us with light and warmth.