Meteors and Memories

Last night I finally got to watch the Perseid meteor showers.  I say "finally" because the previous nights this year were cloudy, and last year it rained the whole time.  But last night was perfect.  A clear sky with no moon.

About half an hour after midnight I turned off all the house lights to avoid light pollution in the yard, then took a sleeping bag and a pillow outside and lay down on the front lawn.  (My wife originally wanted to go, too, but was too tired when the time came, so she wished me well and went back to sleep.)  I was soon joined by two of my cats, who came up from hunting rodents by the chicken coop to sit on me and purr.

I did not have to wait long to see a meteor.  I counted 23 in an hour, several of them big bright streaks, but none to compare with the fireball my wife and I saw several years ago.  But even with the excitement of seeing a meteor, it was still a slow, quiet activity, with a lot of waiting between sightings.  You can't push nature, you just have to go with her pace of things.  As I lay there waiting for the next one to streak across the sky, I was reminded of when we did this at summer camp many years ago. It was a pleasant time to reminisce.

I also saw what was probably a satellite moving across the sky -- or was it maybe the space station?  I remember back in the late 50s and early 60s, when satellites were a new thing, there used to be schedules in the paper about when they would pass over.  My father and I would go out in the yard to try and spot them.  It was a big deal back then to spot a passing satellite -- way before GPS and satellite TV, long before anybody felt a need to "unplug" because nobody was as plugged in and speeded-up like today.  What we watched were just little orbiting balls reflecting the sun, the very beginnings of space flight.

The night was chilly and getting downright cold -- unusual for mid-August here, but welcome, because there were no mosquitoes.  The ground was getting damp though, and my old bones were feeling the lumps in the ground.  so after another half hour, around 2am, I went inside and called it a night.

Shabbat (the Sabbath) as Child's Play

(Graphic courtesy of Wikimedia Commons)

Recently I read an article suggesting that families should turn off their TVs for one day per week in order to reconnect with each other.  I found that amusing, given that Orthodox Jews (and many others) already do this on the Sabbath -- and not just with TV.   All of our electronic devices -- from computers to phones to iPods -- are given a day of rest. 

As I have written on this blog before, we do daycare for the 2 grandchildren of my oldest stepson.  He is not Jewish and neither are the kids.  (He was born before my wife converted to Judaism and married me.  Her kids from another marriage never followed suit).  So the grandkids are not growing up with the same house rules as my wife and I when it comes to Shabbat (the Sabbath).   

Usually we are not doing daycare on Shabbat anyway, but it sometimes happens, and the first time this occurred, the oldest boy was horrified.  (The youngest, being a baby at the time, had no opinion yet.)  He just could not imagine what to do with himself without some sort of screen to stare at all day.  "What if I turn off the volume on my Gameboy?"  He asked.  No deal.  "How about if I go into the other room?  Or outside?"  Nope.   I explained that the Sabbath is not about how loud something is, it's about retreating from the weekday world, and that while he is in our house, he follows our rules.   He was sure he would die of boredom, and at first it seemed so -- but not forever.  Now he actually enjoys a Shabbat visit.

So what on earth do we do without all those gadgets?  Aside from prayers, meals, and other ritual activities, we play board games, card games, do jigsaw puzzles, take nature walks, play with non-electronic toys -- and read.   It is this latter activity that has really caught on with the kids.  It began with me reading stories out loud, and talking about how when you watch a movie, you watch somebody else's ideas about the characters, but when you read, you go on a journey in your own mind.  He didn't get it at first, but now, a few years later, he is such an avid reader that sometimes when he is here on a weekday he actually turns off the TV to read a book!  The last time I took him to Cub Scouts (about a half hour drive) he spent the whole time reading a new book he had just checked out of the library. 

I've also noticed that when he and his younger brother (now 3) play with Legos and other non-electronic toys, their play is much more creative.  All of those chattering toys that talk, buzz, beep, roar, or otherwise make electronic sounds are also no-nos on the Sabbath -- and quite frankly, the kids tire of them rather soon anyway, because they are so repetitious.  (And ubiquitous -- nowadays it's really hard to find toys that do not do this.)  Even on weekdays, the first thing the 3-year-old does is dump out the box of non-electronic cars, dinosaurs, blocks and Legos. 

He also loves paging through books and even though he can't yet read words, he spends hours looking at the pictures.  He looks for -- and recognizes -- any new books added to the children's shelf since last visit.  (Most of these we get at the thrift store, so that if he tears pages or spills on any of them, it's not big deal.  You do not want to be saying "no" or scolding a toddler about damaging his books, or you will kill his interest.  You should, however, teach him how to respect and care for books.)

All of this suggests that turning off your TV and other gadgets on a regular basis is a very good idea.  I would even go so far as to say that the Sabbath may well contribute to the high literacy rate among Jews.  At the very least, it helps us connect better when the family around the Sabbath table -- not a TV screen -- is the focus of our attention.   Try it sometime.

Unplugging for God and nature

The past two days were the Jewish festival of Shavuot, which is both the Feast of First Fruits and the commemoration of the giving of the Torah at Mt. Sinai.  (For our first fruits, we ate our first leaf lettuce of the year from our garden.  In addition to liturgy, we like to tie our holidays in with what is happening in nature.)  On the major holy days, as on the Sabbath, religious Jews do not use the phone, computer, TV,  CD player, radio, or other electronic communications devices.  No texting, blogging, surfing, chatting, gaming, etc.  No, we don't turn off the electricity -- the lights and fans were still on -- but we do unplug from the endless chatter of the outside world.

My non-Jewish friends cannot conceive of doing this.  "What if there is an emergency?  How will people contact you?" Well, if it is really an emergency, then I will hear the sirens, see the tornado, or the police will come to my door.  Anything less than that can wait.   And you know what?  We survive being unplugged just fine.  In fact, we more than survive -- we actually enjoy it.  Turning off all the human chatter gives us the quiet space to enjoy the natural sounds in the woods around us.   Birds, frogs, toads, insects, the rustle of the wind in the leaves -- how can you hear these things if you are always plugged into your ipod? 
In 1987, as part of a series of lessons on kabbalah (49 Gates of Light), I wrote the following about Moses and the Burning Bush: 

What is genius? Perhaps it is the ability to see familiar things in a new and different way. For example, how long did it take Moses to realize that the burning bush was not being consumed? After all, this was something he had never encountered before. Most of us would probably have glanced at it and said, “Oh look, there's a bush on fire.” Then, shrugging our shoulders, we would have continued on our way. But Moses took a little more time. Turning aside to investigate, he became personally involved. Only then, the Midrash tells us, did God call out, “Moses, Moses.”

The question is, how many other potential prophets have missed their opportunity to receive, simply because they were distracted and did not recognize the vision? In this fast-paced world of ours, it’s so easy to say, “I don't have the time.” Yet in order to receive inspiration, we must be willing to make time for the Creator to speak to us.

Rabbi Nachman of Breslov was fond of saying that a person who does not have an hour of solitude with God each day was not truly human. By this he meant that we were created to be channels of God's blessing. If we do not make time in our lives for this, we are not fulfilling our purpose. To be truly human is to bridge heaven and earth, to join together the spiritual and material worlds. To do this, we must listen to the "still, small voice" speaking to us from the Silence.  (From  49 Gates of Light: A course in Kabbalah, 2010 revised edition.  Also available as a download on Lulu.com on my Lulu Storefront page.)  )

This is even more true today.  I recently read about a survey where college students were asked about their use of electronic devices, and a large percentage said they cannot go for more than ten minutes without checking their email or Twitter or whatever.  And here I am, turning off the whole Internet for 26 hours every Sabbath, and two days for the Festival of Shavuot.   Not only that, but I do not carry a phone everywhere I go, because I don't want to talk to you or anyone else when I am out communing with God and nature.

In his now-classic book, The Sabbath, Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel described it as "a palace in time."  He was the first Jewish theologian to spell out for the Western world how traditional Jews live more in time than space.   While gentiles tend to travel to sacred places to feel holy, Jews have sacred times that we carry with us.  The Sabbath is a portable sanctuary, a retreat that you can have anywhere.   This is not to disparage the importance of sacred space, but if you clutter that space up with emails and text messages, then where is the holiness?  When we prepare for the Sabbath, we speak of creating the "Sabbath space."  By this we mean more than just setting the table.  We are creating an atmosphere where we can interact with God, nature, and each other in a personal, "be here now" kind of way. 

The Sabbath is based on the Seventh Day of Creation, when God rested.  It is not that God got tired.  Rather, God ceased creating, thereby making it possible for us to do the same.  On the Sabbath, we are not doing our busy-ness.  We are free to just be.   Try it sometime:  Turn off your phone, don't log on, don't play video games or watch TV, etc. for a whole day.    Instead, watch and listen to the real world around you.  Who knows?  You might even discover your own equivalent of a burning bush.