Tuesday, August 26, 2008

God’s Half-Tube and the Little Green Guy: In Lieu of Actual Writing

Freaking ridiculous, or as the ancients put it, freakus ridiculousus.  August is turning out to be as intense and demanding as I could ever have expected, and my expectations were high.  Dad came for a visit, as I’ve mentioned; last weekend, it was mom, and next weekend, Delia and her parents (one of whom shares more of my genetic material than any other person on the planet).  I’ve built furniture, laundered a mountain of vaguely musty linens, installed and repaired (with expert assistance) a wireless network, and am now waiting for a new laptop and neighborhoodie.  There’s a bat mitzvah (with associated pre-event shindig), a newly-adopted child’s first birthday party, a dear old friend’s locally-famous pigmeats party, and we’re busily pulling together final paperwork in anticipation of getting the call to fly off and pick up Jesse in Seoul.  Another friend, with whom we lost touch years ago, just called yesterday to suggest that I might do some voice-over narration for him.  And still - STILL - I yearn to blog. 

Well, maybe that’s an overstatement.  I sort of want to blog, though.  I’ve got a transit tale and a poem percolating in the works, but I’ve lost one of my prime writing-times with the change in my morning commute, and even so I spent that ride today sketching out a conference I’m planning for January.  But I’m not going to share the Partnership Grants conference plans with you.  I have more respect for you than that.  Plus, I don’t want to give anything away in case any of you out there happen to be Partnership Grant recipients.  Instead, I’ll just share a brief anecdote from this past weekend.  I’m sure you’ll find it profound and uplifting.  It’s either that or upfound and prolifting, and I think I need a special truss for that. 

So ANYWAY, Congregation Beth Sholom has finally finished its new synagogue, and for what it’s worth (not much) I think it’s a knockout.  The previous incarnation of this structure was a traditional 1920’s edifice with doric columns and stained glass, a staid and unimaginative place to daven.  Or so I have it on good authority and unfettered imagination; I never went there myself though I live but two blocks away.  I tried once but got shut out (high holidays do attract quite the crowd).  In the 70s it was rehabbed with the addition of a big bulky assembly hall on one side, and a clumsy portico with curved bay windows tacked tackily to the front of the sanctuary.  It aged ungracefully and finally the congregation had enough and tore it down, replacing it with a cool new structure that roused my curiousity.

Thus it was that on Saturday - THE LORD’S day, you know - Kel and Zach and Mom and I took a little stroll to check the place out.  It was 2 in the afternoon and we had it to ourselves, which was nice - no irritating tribal-types to distract from the clean lines and austere colors.  The front doors admitted us to an open-air plaza with broad steps leading up to a wide patio fronting the sanctuary.  The sanctuary itself is shaped like the hull of a large boat, with rows of seats rising on either side of a central aisle and the bima, or pulpit, in the middle.  The ceiling is far overhead (as well it should be), coffered in a modern style and rich purple in color, with plentiful hidden skylights.  Even if the place wasn’t brand new it would inspire the soaring of the soul that is the hallmark of spiritual practice. 

Zach hasn’t been to many synagogues - I will admit that his spiritual practice has been honored mostly in the breach.  It’s not that he doesn’t have the sensitivity for it - quite the opposite.  We just have not made opportunities available for him.  But here, we explained that this was a special place to be quiet and let goodness fill you up, and he seemed to understand.  Kel had taken a seat halfway up one of the sides, and Z took a break from assiduously testing out all the chairs to come and sit down next to her.  “This is a place,” he explained to her, “where I think about Yoda.” After a brief pause, he continued: “He’s little… and green.” A numinous light filled his eyes and his face was serene.  Indeed, the force is strong with this one.

(We have not yet shown him Star Wars but he’s seen some video of Yoda breakdancing.  I’m not sure how this will affect his theological development, but I think it must all be for the best.  His cousin is all about Vader since she saw him at Disneyland, and I’m thinking they’ll play well off each other in that regard.)

We will be checking out a new congregation for high holidays, a renewal jew-bu hippie-dippie deal that meets at the arboretum in the park, still within easy walking distance of home.  Beth Sholom is closer, yes, but I think the scene there might be a bit constrained for me, if not for Z, so far as my Rosh Hashona vibe is concerned.  But now I feel confident that Zach will be up for the davening.  Focus your kavanah on the little green guy within you, my man, and the path to righteousness will reveal itself. 

Up next: me going to sleep.  Stay tuned for nothing.