Spring Cleaning

The idea of Spring Cleaning exists in some form throughout the Western World. It makes sense that after a long, cold winter of people mostly inside, homes, villages and towns battered by storms that come Spring, refreshing one's home would be both needed and feel really good. Jews – at least Ashkenazi ones – have the practice of Spring Cleaning during the week before Passover which extends the idea of the general clean-up with turning the house over to be Pesadich, or Kosher-for-Passover. You literally get rid of all the items that do not meet the Passover rules – in broad strokes, anything leavened, fermented or aged – so that during the eight days and nights of Passover, the entire house supports keeping Pesadich. Since there is no prohibition on eating Pesadich foods after Passover, there's no need to repeat the process when the holiday ends.

Because of some nasty history throughout the centuries – particularly in Europe – Judaism and Christianity sought to set themselves apart from one another. Focusing on the similarities and common origin was not encouraged. However, this time of year is when the story of how one sprung from the other is most visible. The Last Supper was a Passover Seder. Jesus was Jewish and at the risk of offending someone Christian with a different perspective, he was more or less a reformer within Judaism. If you closely study the history, Jesus himself never advocated a new religion – and actually neither did most of his disciples who saw themselves as Jews. Many may have seen it more along that lines of having started a new movement similar to the way Reformed Movement of Judaism began in 1845 and sort of solidified in a larger way in the mid-1920's largely as a result of a changing, industrializing world in which Jews had new opportunities due to Jewish Emancipation and their newfound citizenship and rights within the countries of Europe. The reaction to politics of the time meant that for many, the way things had been done might need rethinking.

It wasn't until St. Paul that a real schism occurred where Christianity became a distinctly different religion, renouncing its tie to Judaism and presenting religious identity as a choice between Judaism, Christianity and Roman Polytheism.

Like most schisms, the history cannot fully be undone and commonalities remain. The tie between Passover and Easter is one of those – because the timeline for the resurrection links directly to a Passover seder. Moreover, in many parts of the Christian world, so does the Spring Cleaning. Though they may not be cleaning the chamaetz (bread products) out of their homes, the remnants of how to prepare for the major Spring holiday remain ingrained.

Easter is a major holiday on Patmos. The Greek Orthodox tradition continues to strongly emphasize Easter far more than much of the rest of than the largely secularizing Europe. This actually makes a lot of sense because for centuries Easter was THE big holiday of Christianity until the popularization and secularization of Christmas – fueled by the Coca-Cola company and American consumerism – overshadowed Easter. When you think about it logically, what is the defining element of Christianity – the fact that Jesus was born, or that he resurrected, revealing himself as the true Son of God and exemplifying transcendence? Without the resurrection, you really don't have a religion.

So Patmos is in the state of renewal and refreshment as people literally roll up their sleeves, put on gloves, grab their buckets and mops – and are refreshing their homes and businesses. Stefanos who we used to rent our motorscooters from and is part of one of the major Patmos landowning families once told Emily and me how the Patmos we see in the summer – all perfect and beautiful – takes a lot of hard work to maintain. I now see what he means. The winter weather, humidity and the sea strip buildings of their white paint, damage windows and spread dust. As business owners prepare to welcome Athenians and other visitors coming to Patmos for their Easter breaks – white paint is ubiquitous. It feels like every shop owner, restaurateur and hotel or Airbnb operator has ladders, saw horses and paint rollers out. My first weekend here I drove by Flisvos, one of our favorite restaurants near Petra Beach and it looked horribly neglected and sad. Apparently the owners were well aware because this past weekend, it looked like gleaming perfection – fresh coats of paint acting like White Out, covering over all the damage and windows sparkling in the sun.

All the pre-Easter energy makes me think of Passover – my favorite of all Jewish holidays – which is just a week and two days away. This year, there will be no seder for me. There is no Jewish community on Patmos and the nearest synagogue is – depending on which ferry you take on which days – five to eight hours away. Even if I put in the 10-16 hours of travel with a couple of nights' stay on Rhodes, there is no Manishewitz here on Patmos. Keeping Pesadich is more an act of avoidance of chamaetz than an engagement of matzah and any traditional Passover foods (which happen to be some of my favorite!).

While sad, it's not my first Passover abroad and I'll figure out a way to bring the meaning of the holiday to mind and heart even if it's not as usual. As a rule, Asia is much easier for keeping Pesadich because if you go with the Sefardic approach to rice being acceptable, then the world is your oyster (not that oysters are kosher – because they aren't).

What I love about Passover beyond the food and togetherness is that it celebrates freedom. For thousands of years Jews have stood against slavery and for freedom. Especially to a modern, educated liberal-minded American, this seems like a "duh" because we can all agree that freedom is good and slavery is bad. But that's not something we have agreed on until fairly recently in human history – and not even within America's lifetime. At one point, half the states in America were of the mind that slavery is good. Maybe some felt slavery is regrettable, but necessary – but that isn't exactly a virtuous position either. Judaism declares emphatically that slavery is bad – and freedom is good – for everyone, always, in a universal declaration. It was very bold and ahead of its time. 

Judaism is cool that way. If you really look at Judaism as a whole – and I got this from Rabbi Feinstein for anyone who wants to take me on – it's a religion that focuses on how to live a good life. Judaism focuses on how to be a good person, family member, community member and around the concept that we are custodians of a fractured world that we are charged with caring for and repairing. Unlike Christianity, there is no transcendence aspect to Judaism. We aren't living for an afterlife or to be rewarded in death for what we do in life. Instead, every day of life is supposed to be better than eons in the afterlife. The paradise we have available is what we make of our time on Earth.

Judaism also supports each person connecting directly with God. We each have our own relationship with the Divine and the divine aspects of us are connected to the greater Divine. This is empowering and elegantly simple. It's probably also why when younger generations of Jews flirt with another religion, it's often Buddhism where there's some clear philosophic overlap and the potential draw of less complexity and ritualism. Plus Buddhism has the transcendence Judaism eschews and the thirst to figure out how one's soul reaches up to heaven can be strong and real. 

Sennen once asked Rabbi Ed Feinstein – one of the best known Conservative Rabbis in the country who we are fortunate to know well and who has taken a special interest in Sennen – why Christians celebrate the birthday of Jesus but Jews don't celebrate the birthday of Moses? Rabbi Feinstein's answer was Judaism is so careful not to mistake humans with God that even as great a guy as Moses was, he himself should not be celebrated. We can be grateful for Moses' deeds and help when we celebrate Passover and Shavuot, but we don't celebrate Moses himself. Rabbi Feinstein also wisely pointed out that Moses made mistakes and asked Sennen to name them – which to my surprise Sennen was able to do. Moses broke the tablets of the 10 Commandments in rage, striking an Egyptian, running away to be a shepherd, striking the rock at Meribah to get water instead of speaking to it as God instructed. The two of them had a few other examples I have forgotten. Why does the Torah include these mistakes, the Rabbi asked? To make sure that we know Moses was a fallible human and that any miracles he was part of really came from God.

Judaism is a religion of learning – bringing the teachings of the Divine down to Earth rather than one of people trying to reach upward to the Divine. Don't worship idols. Don't worship people. Don't leave your body on the ground while your soul tries to fly – all of you belongs right here. Bring God into your life and live well, bettering those around you.

I like all of this. I'm much happier being Jewish than anything else. The interesting and sometimes challenging part of being Jewish is that, as my father once said, I'm Jewish because it was given to me by my parents and grandparents and their parents and grandparents. It is a religion, but for most (there are Jews By Choice) it's also a birthright which gets mixed too with an ethnic identity. In a world without choices, this is no big deal. If you were born into the shtetyls of Eastern Europe where you were labeled as different and forced to live in a ghetto that was locked at night what was there to consider about your identity or your Judaism – which were inextricably one and the same?

I have an incredible amount more freedom, power and agency in my life. I am Jewish, but I am also an American, a Californian, a resident of Westlake Village, a parent at White Oak Elementary, a yogi, a traveler, a homeowner, a University of Washington alum, a boss, an employee, and an independent voter. Racially, I pass for White in most settings and situations with certain benefits and privileges that go with it. 

I am also the Executive Vice President of our synagogue.

Yet, if I'm honest, I find it difficult to connect spiritually in Shul. I am not terribly moved or enlightened by the week's Torah portion and while I enjoy the sense of togetherness and warmth of a Friday night service – I don't feel spiritually exercised or fulfilled. Judaism has wonderful values that have shaped and strengthened me. I wouldn't be me without the Judaism in which I was brought-up. But in other ways, it doesn't nourish me – at least not at this stage of my life. 

Sometimes I struggle with this as I'm supposed to become the President of our temple in July, but inside, I don't get what some of the people at services and minyan get from their Judaism. Perhaps as a leader, I should?

Part of the problem may lie in what religion is. Yuval Noah Harari the brilliant Israeli professor who authored Sapiens, an amazing history of humanity posits that religion and spirituality are two completely different things. Religion helps maintain order through morality. Religion teaches us not to kill one another because it's wrong and to give money and food to those in need because it's right. (These are of course some of the most simplistic and clear examples) As a result, we have a better society in which we can all thrive. Over time, secular governments have taken religious tenants and codified them, while taking out the doctrine. But the net effect is the same – at least to a basic degree.

Whereas spirituality is an individual journey. Connecting with the Divine, figuring out who and what you are and what moves you in a deep way – that requires personal commitment and exploration. Doing so involves questioning order and norms – exactly the opposite of the primary function of religion.

Judaism isn't the new kid on the block and it has already had to account for this. Unlike many organized religions, Judaism builds-in the idea that questioning is not only okay, but part of the process. You must question to become a mature and thoughtful person – and Judaism feels confident enough in itself to know that you'll come home because the conclusions are inevitable.

That's chutzpah!

It tells me there's been a long line of people who have treaded this same ground.

Is this inevitable conclusion – the wisdom that asserts all paths lead back to such a solid set of principles and beliefs – why the elderly so often become the most devout? Is it why my long-agnostic Grandpa made his way back to Judaism in his later years? As my dad said of his father-in-law who begrudging sat through Passover seders and hadn't attended a synagogue perhaps for decades before my Bubbee died, "The amazing part was that in the end, he died a Jew!" 

This joins the long list of questions I wish I had thought to ask Grandpa before he died – most of them questions I didn't yet know I would have.

In the end, I've never felt that my Judaism precluded my spiritual quests, but I've also found that it hasn't provided me the spirituality I seek. In essence, my Judaism and spiritual explorations can co-exist. Maybe this is what all those Co-exist bumper stickers are about?

With this said, am I qualified to be the lay-leader of a synagogue? If what happens in the sanctuary isn't what I connect with – am I really right to take on the role? Part of me says devoutness does not a good leader make. I care deeply about our Jewish community and want it to thrive. I want my children to grow up Jewish and to have a place where they belong – as Jews. Because being around and feeling connected to other Jews is a very special and specific sort of register in life, there is a comfort and energy that Jews get from being with other Jews that matters and satisfies. Whatever my kids choose for themselves in life – I want them to have and know this during their growing up years. And of course, I enjoy and thrive on it too.

I also think each generation changes – especially in an ever-evolving society like America – each person has abundant choices of how they will live their lives. For many Jews – like my Uncle Richard – marrying non-Jewish and slipping away from everything they came from isn't much of a trick. People do it everyday. Few, if any of my uncle's social connections know he's Jewish. And unless he takes the surprising turn of his father – which would be even more shocking with him – both Uncle Richard's Judaism and his Jewish identity are forever dead.

I understand the choices people face and that for many Jews my age or younger, their Jewish identity often means more to them than their Judaism. Keeping Judaism and Jewish community alive means making room for people who don't necessarily value services, may have spiritual longings Judaism isn't filling, don't have the time to volunteer and invest as their parents and grandparents did – but who don't want to let go of their Jewishness either.

But is that a synagogue – or a Jewish Community Center? Will there be much difference in another generation? Are my own struggles with Judaism blinding me from steering the synagogue and community back to a stronger, more religious place? Would I be failing to make Judaism more relevant to people because it's not entirely relevant to me? Or am I the bridge from one generation to the next – one in which values and identity are more important than prayers and Torah portions?

I suppose this is my Spring Cleaning. Sorting out the boxes in my heart and mind. Shaking the dust off the hidden and unacknowledged stuff. Letting sunlight disinfect it all. This year in Patmos, next year in Westlake Village?