Shoes (From Patheos.com)

Shoes

by Talia Davis

I have a closet full of them. Some people don't even think about them. Some people think about them way too much.Shoes protect our feet, they enable us to go anywhere we want without concern for what the terrain is. We pay a lot of money for very uncomfortable ones, and sometimes our favorites are the ones we have had for years. I feel fortunate I own more than one pair.Shoes can be easily overlooked.Not on the bank of the Danube River in Budapest.A simple memorial has stood there since 2005. A memorial you may just miss unless you get close.Shoes.Sixty pairs ofemptyiron shoes.They are old-fashioned. They may just look like some crazy art nouveau thing.Until you get closer.The unrest in Budapest regarding the Jews culminated on the night of January 8, 1945. Jews in Budapest were rounded up and made to stand on the bank of the Danube River... as pictured on the left.Sometimes, two people were chained together. One was shot and the other was dragged into the water where they drowned.Sometimes they just shot people and pushed them in the icy waters.Sometimes they attached weights to the people before they shot them.Men, women... children.Two hundred human beings.All that was left was their shoes. Their valuable shoes.After all, a dead person doesn't need shoes.This mass murder was perpetrated by the Arrow Cross party whose members were big fans of Hitler and his policies. They were only too happy to help along his final solution.I look at my shoes differently now. They aren't just a fashion accessory or necessary evil to get from A to B. They are a reminder that I am alive. They remind me that I live in a free country, in a world that will not tolerate this type of behavior. They tell me my extended family did not die in vain.Baruch atah Hashem Eloheinu melech ha'olam, dayan ha-emet.Blessed are You, Adonai, our G-d, Counselor of the universe, the True Judge.This is what we say when we hear of someone passing. It is our way to say that we accept the unacceptable.For short, Baruch Dayan Emet. Blessed is the True Judge.(Originally posted at Patheos.com. For more details on Jewish topics, visit Patheos)Talia Davis is the daughter, granddaughter, and great-granddaughter of rabbis. While her direct family had immigrated to America prior to WWII, she lost extended family to the Holocaust. Her great-grandfather stood in protest of Hitler's policies in America, wearing a yellow star of David on his clothing in an attempt to bring awareness to the horrors he knew were being perpetrated against the Jews in his parents' homeland of Germany. Talia directs the Jewish Portal at Patheos and manages the site's online community. Photos - #1. laurnia.blogspot.com, 2. Doctors and their patients slaughtered by the Arrow Cross Militia in Budapest via Wikimedia CC, 3.  laurnia.blogspot.com

Looking for Personal Holocaust Stories

So I recently blogged about my experience with a Holocaust survivor as a 5 year old and that got me (and my mom) thinking...

Since we are sadly losing our connection to this actual survivors, who will tell this story to our children?

I am looking for personal experiences with Holocaust survivors and their impact on you. If you have a story like this or would like to write A FACTUAL account for me, please send me an email at taliashewrote at gmail dot com (put it all together with an @ and a . and there you go)!

Thanks!

Never Again…

I saw this video on Rabbi Brad Hirschfield's blog and it really touched me.

It more than touched me, it had me in tears. What a powerful piece.

I hope you share it far and wide.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HLBNSJNQ1ms&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&hl=en_US&feature=player_embedded&fs=1]

The past is getting further and further away…

I remember him so clearly. This older rabbi. Mind you, most of the rabbis in my life are family members but this time it was different. My dad was the rabbi at the Hillel and we were members at Temple Sinai. So for once in my life, "my" rabbi wasn't my dad or grandfather.

If I close my eyes, I can see him. I can see the moment that is seared into my memory. I was only 5. That's how strong of an impression he left.

I remember that he wore suits all the time. I never saw him take his jacket off (at least my child's memory is that I never saw that).

There was one day, specifically that I remember... in fact, it is one of very few memories of have of the two short years my family lived in Illinois.

I was in Sunday school and my favorite place to play was the tables. You know, the water table, the sand table... I was elbows deep in the water table when the rabbi came in to our classroom to say hello. I invited him to play with me at the water table and he obliged.

He took off his jacket and rolled up his dress shirt sleeves. Not unusual in my 5 year old brain. Rabbis  played with me all the time. One of the benefits of being an RK (rabbi's kid)... I met very well known rabbis and they would get on the floor and play dollies with me. But something was different this time.

He put his hands in the water and I saw it.

Holocaust tattoo  thanks to MarkMallett.com for the image

His number tattoo. (That is not him pictured above)

I don't think I ever said anything to him about that. I don't really think I talked to anyone about it. Even at 5, I got it. The Holocaust was seared into my being at such a young age.

I became haunted by it. Not his tattoo but the Holocaust. I read every book available to me. I looked horrific pictures. I dreamed that I lived it. It was all so real to me. As a tween, I would always be on alert. When I went somewhere new I would look around, trying to figure out how to hide if the Nazis burst in the door. What did I have on me that identified myself as a Jew? Would I have been strong enough to survive, even if my family perished?

I was haunted for years. The Holocaust had become far too real for me. My personal Holocaust experience culminated with me playing Anne Frank in a theatre production in Colorado. I had nightmares every night. I woke up screaming every morning. I lived her life onstage and in my dreams. But that finally broke my obsession with the Holocaust.

Opening of Act II: Margot, Anne, and Mother (Anne Frank, Longmont Theatre Company - 2005)

But Rabbi Neuman's tattoo never left me. There are a few things I always think of when I think back to our short time in Illinois... our wonderful neighbors, Beverly my pretend grandma, the only time in my life when I got grounded (for walking over to Beverly's house without telling my parents... she lived next door), my little brother as a toddler figuring out the latch on the door and locking himself out in the snow in only a diaper, running wild through the halls of the Hillel, and Rabbi Neuman's arm.

Recently, I looked him up again and learned more about the arm I see in my dreams. He was born in Poland in 1922 and studied in three Talmudic academies in three different European cities before the Nazis came. He survived SIX Nazi camps including Auschwitz and Mauthausen. His whole family perished - parents and six sisters and one younger brother. He came to the US in 1950 with nothing. No money, no family, and no English. Thanks to the Jewish community, he went to University of Cincinnati and HUC in Cincinnati. He has done so much over his career but one part I found fascinating was that he marched with the late Rev Dr Martin Luther King Jr in 1965... and so did my grandfather.

But there are less and less Rabbi Neuman's out there. We are slowly losing the generation that survived the Holocaust. The personal testimony is getting harder and harder to find. Thankfully we have been recording their stories to share with our children but make no mistake, nothing will get be as impactful as seeing a tattoo on the arm of a sweet and kind rabbi at the water table.

Zachor.

Remember. 

(Here is a link to Rabbi Neuman's book -
The Narrow Bridge: BEYOND THE HOLOCAUST)

(Originally posted at Patheos)

This makes me nauseous…

What a horrible human being.

Counting the Omer…

Sometimes it is wicked annoying. One more thing to do at night when I am exhausted. I really just wanna read my (e)book and go to bed. But man oh man... sometimes... who am I kidding, usually the day's Omer is dead on.

So you may have no idea what I am talking about. Let me explain. For the 49 days between Passover and Shavuot we literally count each night. It starts on the second night of Passover with 1 and it ends on the night before Shavuot with 49, which is seven weeks of the Omer. Some people choose to use seven of the sephirot (similar to the chakras) to guide them through this Omer process. The 49 days of the Omer is a time to reflect on self and inner growth. Additionally, this is a time where we are in a level of mourning. There are many theories behind why this is anywhere from a plague that killed 24,000 of Rabbi Akiva's students to a time to honor those who rose up against the oppressive Roman rule and were killed. Some even postulate that this is a time period to honor all the Jews killed in all the pogroms and crusades.

So during this time halacha (Jewish law) forbids us from getting haircuts or having weddings or parties. The only outlier? Day 33 (or four weeks and five days of the Omer) is called Lag B'Omer (literally, in Hebrew it means the 33rd day of the Omer). This is a seriously joyous holiday and all mourning activities are forbidden.

On Lag B'Omer you are supposed to sing and dance, have picnics, shoot arrows, have bonfires, and cut your hair. In fact, it is a big honor to have an Upshernish (a little boy's first hair cut on his 3rd birthday) or a wedding on Lag B'Omer.

Anyway, there is your introduction to the Omer...

The point is...
Today's Omer is this - Today is 10 days which is one week and three days of the Omer. Representing tiferet of gevurah or compassion in discipline.

It ends with saying - Tiferet is a result of total selflessness in the eyes of G-d. You love for no reason, you love because you are a reflection of G-d.

Wow. Finding the discipline in love. It is so hard and it is so hard to love without expecting something back.

It's hard to be a reflection of G-d, all that human stuff gets in the way.

Facebook Censorship

I use Facebook daily. In fact, I am on Facebook pretty much all day. That is my job. I post to Facebook for Patheos and I keep my eye out for best practices and new ideas.

Today, I got a HUGE fail whale. Facebook wouldn't let me log in this afternoon because of "site maintenance." In the middle of the day? That's weird.

But then I saw this blog - On Facebook Deactivations

That makes me nervous, people. I post regularly about religion (granted, it's mostly mine and then the Patheos content on the Patheos page but still...) I like the fact that users have the power to get rid of abusive users or hate groups (like these - Hatred of Jews on Facebook, Does Facebook Hate Israel, or "ALL BIG NOSED JEWS DIE I HATE YOU ALL!!!!GAS SHOWERS FOR ALL JEWS!!!!!HITLER YOU ARE GOD!!!DEATH TO ALL JEWS BURN BURN BURN" - kinda messed up, right?) but to take off users because there is a collective of people out there that are mad because some people have left their faith?

This is an issue near and dear to my heart as a Community Manager. I had to develop processes and terms of use for Patheos when I first came on board so I could manage the community functions on the site. I know things get heated on CNN or ESPN forums but on a site dedicated to providing a balanced view on religion and spirituality... yeah, we were pretty sure it would devolve into nasty. Thankfully we haven't had too much of that, yet, but Facebook needs to evaluate how they are going to manage complaints without stripping a ton of people of their FB accounts or letting people be abused.

Something is just wrong here. And there is a fine line between expressing your opinion or belief and being hateful. You can express your faith or belief without using hate speech. When censorship dips it's quill into a scary inkwell and starts eliminating innocents along with the guilty, people start to get more mad.

What a sad world when you have to defend from hate with one hand and hold off big brother with the other.

Challah Baby… an update

Okay, first of all, if you haven't read Challah Baby (the original) I highly recommend reading it first. Life will make a lot more sense... trust me.It's okay... we'll wait.Back? Oh good.So it has been a little over three months now and no word from my friend. Now in my mind that could mean several things. One: she isn't pregnant, it didn't work and she doesn't want to talk about it. Okay. I won't push. Or two: she is pregnant but holding to the tradition to not talk about it until she is safe and into her second trimester.I'm not going to lie, I didn't think about it all the time. It wasn't life consuming but every time I saw a post from one of my millions of pregnant friends on Facebook, I thought of D. I was just hoping and praying and keeping her in my prayers that she had conceived or will conceive. But I didn't want to push it.Until I got an email.It said:Dear Challah Bakers,

I selected December 18 pretty much at random only later to find out  that it was the original birthday of my husband's Granny Rose - known  especially for her intuitive ability and faith in matters spiritual. She  changed her birthday much later in life to November 18 so that she  could celebrate together with her son-in-law my husband's father!

Today I am so happy to share with you that I am pregnant and well  in to my second trimester. I have already had 5 (yes 5!!!) ultrasounds  so far indicating that thank g-d everything seems to be going well.  Thank you all so much for sharing this journey with me. I continue to  bake and if you should need a prayer please do not hesitate to let me  know.SHE'S PREGNANT! YES!Now, being somewhat scientifically minded, I am totally not willing to say that the loaf of bread I baked on the same night 60 other people did it and the prayers I said along with tons of her friends actually contributed to her conception but... I can't deny the fact that it seemed to help.So where do science and faith collide?Where we are willing to let them. When we can say to ourselves, I don't know how or why but it worked and I am rejoicing.Exodus 15:20-21 says: "Miriam took the timbrel in her hand and all the women followed her. And Miriam called to them, 'Sing to G-d...'" (Hear Debbie Friedman's version here)Here we are, at the time where we gained our freedom from Mitzraym (Egypt) and the women sang to G-d before heading out into the desert for 40 years. 3 months ago, 61 women sang out to G-d through our Challah baking and G-d responded!I couldn't be happier for D, M & their daughter R! Mazal and bracha! I know this baby will bring you lots of nachas!(originally posted at Patheos)

Next Year in Jerusalem… or the White House, depends on who you know…

This morning, while my friends at my neighborhood car repair shop were fixing my car to the tune of several hundred dollars (ugh), I sat in Starbucks with my Sunday New York Times.

I love the Sunday New York Times. I live in Denver now but I was born in Manhattan to a mother from Queens and no matter where we moved across the US, I always had a soft spot for a Bialy. Anyway, I love the Sunday Styles sections and my favorite way to finish my coffee is with the weddings... I'm not going to lie, sometimes I cheat and head straight to the weddings and engagements section. Today, though, something caught my eye on the front page.

Next Year in the White House: A Seder Tradition

WHAT?! Okay, we all watch the President light the giant Chabad menorah during Chanukkah but a Passover Seder? Really? Isn't that a little odd? Well the oddities continued in the article. This is no big fancy dinner with all the well know rabbis and prominent Jews... this is a private and personal meal in the Old Family Dining Room with just a few friends and Jewish staffers... who give the White House kitchen their family recipes. No traditional waiters, the President and First Lady pass the brisket... but the gefilte fish is already plated.

WHAT?! And with everything going on between Israel and the US right now?!

I guess we need to learn how it got started. Turns out three Jewish staffers on the campaign trail in 2008 were stuck. They couldn't make it home for this BIG family holiday and wanted to connect with their ancestors. So they went to a basement room at a hotel with found matzah and Manischewitz to make a Seder... It started peachy... until they heard that undeniable voice behind them, "Is this the Seder?"

Obama and some African American staffers and friends came to join. Talk about sharing something... Jews and Blacks coming together to remember the slavery that they shared... thousands of years apart. Kinda like the camaraderie in the '60's between these two groups (read more about that and MLK here).

What I think is so cool about this is that it's personal. Not for the press or the tourists or to make him look better to the Jews... it was something his staffers needed and he participated in and he kept it familial. His daughters ask the four questions and they all read together.

That's what Pesach is about. We must teach our children the lessons of our people, our exodus from the land of Mitzrayim, Egypt. But we also must share with our neighbors. Some very Orthodox people hold the view that you shouldn't invite non-Jews to a seder since while you are allowed to cook for yourself on this chag (or holiday... meaning that you usually can't work or cook), you can't cook for a non-Jew who can clearly cook for themselves... well... I respectfully disagree that this means you shouldn't invite non-Jews. It is important to share our culture and traditions. When we close ourselves off, it leads to rumors of children's blood in our matzah! (Not kidding. Read here & here)

And as usual, I find myself on a tangent. As a person who voted for Obama (I really don't want to make this political), this is one of the reasons why I appreciate him so much. I feel like he actually cares to learn more about the salad that is the US of A. (We prefer salad to melting pot... a melting pot makes it all the same, a salad's ingredients retain their personal identity while becoming a part of something bigger.)

So I hope Mr. President and his family and family of friends enjoy their Passover seder this year. And here's to hoping there isn't a Macaroon Security Standoff this year... hehe!

Read the New York Times story here.

Originally posted on my blog at Patheos.

My Daddy Always Said There’d Be Days Like This…

Just had a lively dispute on Twitter with a very conservative fella who told me I'm a Marxist because I believe in helping my fellow (wo)man.

He was kinda abrasive and rude (and I'm not gunna lie, I was rude back) but despite being annoyed and wanting to leave the convo, I stayed and chatted.

With plenty of parries and repostes, we tossed 140 characters back and forth. And I am sure he still doesn't like me and frankly, I'm not super thrilled about him but at least it was an intelligent conversation (though I could have done without him calling me all the 'ist' names in the book that he didn't agree with).

I simultaneously HATE discussing politics (or the negative aspects of religion for that matter) and am motivated and inspired by it. I truly believe that none of us knows all and we all must keep learning and moving. I guess that's one of my problems with the 'ists - (just like in Judaism, as my father says - when you call yourself a movement, you stop moving) - in politics, when we decide that something is Capitalist or Marxist or Socialist or Blahist... we lock that idea into a box and never let it develop.

What if we threw the titles out the window and just picked up the good ideas from each? What if we didn't have to take each 'ist to the horrible conclusion that each reaches it we go to the extreme?

I don't know. But I do know that the way people are acting right now... conservatives, liberals... I don't like it. It is pushing us further and further from a solution. And people like Glenn Beck and, yes, liberals too that jump to the most horrible conclusion and scare the people who listen to them out of their wits AREN'T HELPING. They are just preening and prancing and trying to promote themselves, not liberty or safe and healthy living.

Oh well. Dad always said, "We have to agree to disagree." Not always satisfying but makes for a much better life than fighting everyone.

I really do love this video. The first 14 minutes really hits home... http://bit.ly/daCPM0