Today, after writing my most recent Jewish Issues Examiner column, I had to spend some time really considering how much I have allowed myself to become assimilated into secular culture. You see, my column was inspired by a JTA story I read about a Chabad rabbi in Russia trying to bring assimilated Jews there back to Judaism. I then wrote about how Jews in the United States, as well as all around the world, need to fight the same battle this rabbi is fighting alone–and which the Maccabee’s faught so long ago–the fight against Jewish assimilation into secular culture. (You can read my Jewish Issues column here.)

I’m not an Orthodox or observant Jew. I’m a spiritual Jew who tries to be somewhat observant–or, I should say, I used to try to be somewhat observant until secular life got in the way. When my work life and my husband’s work life and my children’s extracurricular activities took over our life, our Jewish life fell by the wayside. We stopped attending Friday night or Saturday services. We stopped going to adult ed classes through our synagogue or Jewish renewal chavurah.

As my husband became less interested in Judaism, which is another story, I also found it hard to make myself go to services and classes alone. I’d always had a partner with whom to do these things. It felt lonely to go by myself.

So, I opted to do what other people–and my husband–were doing. I took my children where they wanted to go or waited around for my children or worked late on Friday evenings. I carted my kids around on Saturdays, or I worked or did chores or ran errands.

We have kept our tradition of having Shabbat dinner every Friday night (almost…if we are home) and lighting candles and saying blessings for the candles, the wine and the challah, but the kavanah (intention) has fallen by the wayside, and we never bookend the Sabbath with Havdallah anymore like we used to do.

Tonight, my son pointed out that the meal I was eating wasn’t kosher. We don’t keep kosher. However, it would have been very easy for me simply to have made one food choice so that my would have been kosher. At that moment, I realized how far removed I have become from my religion.

I also realized the choices I can make every day that will bring me closer to my religion. I can easily (and sometimes not so easily) make large and small choices every day that will increase my Jewish practice, thus making me a better Jew. This also will help strengthen my Jewish identity, bring me closer to God and strengthen my sense of spiritual connection.

So, I ask you: As a Jew, how assimilated into secular culture are you? What choices can you make that would move you just a bit closer to Judaism?

As Jews around the world usher in the Sabbath with the candle lighting ritual, they ask God to spread over them “wings of peace…sukkat shalom.” They ask for “Shabbat shalom…Sabbath peace.” While some Jews actually will feel that peace during the 25 hours of this week’s Shabbat, I’m sure the survivors of the earthquake in Haiti will not. With so much chaos, destruction and death around them, they won’t feel it now, on their own Sabbath or for some time to come…unless they are very tuned in and tapped into God.

Knowing that prayers for others go a long way towards helping them heal–science has proven this to be so–I want to join Britain’s Chief Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks in asking Jews around the world to say a special prayer for the Haitians this Shabbat. You can say one of your own, or you can recite the prayer he penned especially for this purpose. (To read more about this, click here.)

Here is the full text of his prayer:

“Sovereign of the Universe, we join our prayers to the prayers of others throughout the world, for the victims of the earthquake that brought destruction and disaster to Haiti and took so many lives.

“Almighty God, we beseech you, send comfort to the bereaved and healing to the injured. Be with those who are engaged in the work of rescue. Grant strength to those who see to the needs of the injured and sick, give shelter to the homeless and provide sustenance to those in need.

“Almighty God, we recognize how insignificant we are, and how helpless in the face of nature when its full power is unleashed. Open our hearts in prayer and our hands in generosity, so that by our actions we may bring comfort, healing and support. Help us now and all humanity as we seek to do what we can by helping people reconstruct their broken lives.”

Also, don’t forget to give to as well as to pray for those in Haiti. Before Shabbat begins, give tzedakah to an organization  sending aid to Haiti. Help them heal in any way possible.

As the sun sets, marking the beginning of Shabbat, a day known for “shalom,” peace, I think it’s fitting that President Barak Obama today should have been awarded the Nobel Peace Prize. Not only was this morning the time when Jews in the U.S. were preparing for Shabbat and 25 hours of peace but they also were preparing for the last days of the holiday of Sukkot. In Judaism, on Shabbat and on Sukkot we pray for God to give us a “sukkat shalom,” a booth or tabernacle of peace. I like the translation that equates this temporary structure to wings – like angel’s wings or Divine wings that surround us – of peace; it says, “Spread over all of us, wings of peace, sukkat shalom.”

It seems to me that just as President Obama admitted today that he was given this award for what he will do, we all must do take his lead and build our own sukkat shalom. We must build shelters of peace in our own lives and in our communities and throughout the world, just as he is doing, to help create peace on both a small and large scale. The Presidents Nobel Prize is a challenge to continue his work, and we, too, must take the challenge and become change agents, peace agents.

many people complained that the president hadn’t done enough to deserve the award. More then likely they didn’t receive the letter he sent to his supporters, in which he admitted to feeling the same way…but he didn’t stay stuck there. He went on to see the real meaning…the real challenge…of the awared. His letter said:

This morning, Michelle and I awoke to some surprising and humbling news. At 6 a.m., we received word that I’d been awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for 2009.

To be honest, I do not feel that I deserve to be in the company of so many of the transformative figures who’ve been honored by this prize — men and women who’ve inspired me and inspired the entire world through their courageous pursuit of peace.

But I also know that throughout history the Nobel Peace Prize has not just been used to honor specific achievement; it’s also been used as a means to give momentum to a set of causes.

That is why I’ve said that I will accept this award as a call to action, a call for all nations and all peoples to confront the common challenges of the 21st century. These challenges won’t all be met during my presidency, or even my lifetime. But I know these challenges can be met so long as it’s recognized that they will not be met by one person or one nation alone.

This award — and the call to action that comes with it — does not belong simply to me or my administration; it belongs to all people around the world who have fought for justice and for peace. And most of all, it belongs to you, the men and women of America, who have dared to hope and have worked so hard to make our world a little better.

So today we humbly recommit to the important work that we’ve begun together. I’m grateful that you’ve stood with me thus far, and I’m honored to continue our vital work in the years to come.

Thank you,

President Barack Obama

On this Shabbat of Sukkot, will you accept the call to action? Will you create peace, first,  on Shabbat? And will you, second, create peace long after your sukkah has been taken down? Will you create sukkat shalom…wings of peace…in your own way? Will you be a peace agent?

To me, all sins come down to sins against God. If you believe a spark of Divinity exists in all things, then any sin you commit against something or someone constitutes a sin against God.

Additionally, other actions are sins against our Creator as well. What might these be?  They could be different for different people (and I’m not calling on rabbinic texts or sacred sources here). For me, personally, actions that constitute sins against God include not making it a priority to spend time with God – meditating, praying, listening, talking, chanting, offering gratitude and appreciation for all that I am, have and receive. If I’m not making the effort to have a relationship with God, to have God in my life on a daily, hourly, minute-by-minute basis, that’s a sin. And if I lose faith in God, that’s a sin as well.

I want to remember “to place God before me always” – Shiviti Adonai l’negde tamid – and to know that God’s hand is in my life guiding and directing me even when it doesn’t appear to be so. Placing God before me always provides me with a devotional target for living life in a spiritual manner, and if I forget to aim at that target, or if I don’t take aim, I definitely miss my mark. That’s a sin.

If I don’t observe the Sabbath in some way shape of form, that’s a sin. I admit, I don’t always observe it, but I do remember it. I try to at least have a Shabbas mindset if I can’t actually rest and go to services on that day.

Of course, there are so many commandments, and I know I don’t have the ability to observe them all. I can, however, perform mitzvot, the Hebrew word for commandments that often is translated as “good deeds,” as often as possible. This can be my target…to perform as many mitzvot – commandments and good deeds as possible. If I don’t do at least that, I have again, missed my target.

So much of this comes down to spiritual practice, spending time every day connecting with God in some way. And there are so many ways in which to do so, especially through Judaism with it’s 100 blessings a day and 613 commandments. Take your pick! And many of these spiritual practices can be made very, very practical. In fact, they are meant to fit into your life…to become part of your life, so every moment becomes an opportunity for spiritual practice and connection with the Divine.

On this third Day of Awe, we – I – turn inward and consider how I have sinned against God. (Oh, in so many ways…) I ask for forgiveness for the deep recesses of my heart and my soul. I remember that, despite my actions (in inactions), my soul is pure. Elohai neshama sh’natata bi tehora hi (Oh God, the soul you have given me is pure). I pray that God remembers/see that; I trust that God knows that and forgives me my transgressions.

For this relationship above all others is the one that I value most. This is the one that never forsakes me…even when I forsake it.  Thus, I turn inward; I evaluate my actions; I ask for forgiveness for my sins; I look for ways to rectify my wrongs; I create new targets (spiritual practices) for the New Year, and I forgive myself my past transgressions. And then I turn to God.

Feeling joyous on Shabbat constitutes a great mitzvah (commandment or good deed) in Judaism. No matter your circumstances, you must be joyous on Shabbat. Plus, according to Rebbe Nachman, it’s impossible to feel a connection to God unless you can experience joy. Indeed, mitzvot, or commandments, are supposed to connect us to the Divine, and, we are told that we should perform them joyously.

If you want to prepare for Shabbat by moving towards joy, begin by smiling…then laughing. If you are having trouble finding something about which to smile or laugh about, read this post I wrote for my San Jose Jewish Examiner column. It will provide the fodder you need.

(Hint: You’ll find some old Jews telling some old…some new…jokes. No joking.)

May you be blessed withShabbat shalom, sabbat peace and connection, and Shabbat simchah, Sabbath joy!

I feel my life swirling somewhat out of control. Sometimes out of control seems like a good thing, like when you can let go and enjoy a water slide, experiencing the speed and the excitement of simply seeing where you end up. Other times it’s a scary thing, like driving down a mountain with no breaks or no way to steer the car. I seem to have a bit of both going on in my life. In once case, we give up our need to control the situation and in the other we fight for a way to regain it.

The scary part comes with overwhelm, a sense that I can’t regain control of the amount of events and situations that “take over” my life or the speed at which I must move through my days and weeks. The exhilarating part comes with the sense that God’s hand is directing me, pushing me-shoving me, forward faster and faster so the force of my forward movement will be too hard to stop. This will ensure that I arrive at my destination.

What is that destination? The fulfillment of my soul’s purpose.

Yet, every day I struggle with all the little things I’m doing or have to do that pull me away from the bigger things I feel I need to do to fulfill my purpose. They take up my time and energy and focus.

I was telling a friend about this when he said something interesting. He said, “You sound as if you think you have failed, because you have yet to achieve your largest goals. Do you think that the only way to fulfill your purpose is with the larger accomplishments?”

I thought about his question. “No,” I responded. I can see that I fulfill my purpose in lots of little, even some big, ways.”

But until that moment, I had not looked at it that way. I had been focused on the end result rather than on all the little steps along the way, those things that are making me move faster and faster down the path to my end destination.

Now I see, though, that the more speed I pick up the faster I get where I am going. I need to both enjoy the ride and learn to control the speed and direction even when it seems I have no brakes or steering wheel. To do this, I need only focus on where I want to end up; this controls my direction and movement. And I need only take a deep breath to slow down a bit, or simply take time for God to have Divine breaks applied and my forward movement slow a bit. (Isn’t that why we have the Sabbath-to find sacred time away from the rush forward every day?) And with that sort of focus, I can actually reaffirm my purpose and get more Divine support for my journey.

Now, if I can just remember this as I step back onto the water slide, back into the car, back into the every-faster, ever-stronger energy carrying me forward…

Passover is over and bread is back in the house! More specifically, on Shabbat, we ate challah!

I’m a bread lover, so a Shabbat during Passover week spent eating hard, cold, tasteless matzoh rather than soft, warm-out-of-the-oven, sweet bread just doesn’t seem right. I know, I know… Passover involves eating matzoh, the Bread of Freedom…the Bread of Affliction. I don’t have to like it, though, do I? And I can rejoice in the first Shabbat after Passover when I am free, liberated, to eat challah once more, can’t I?

But, now that the holiday is over, what the heck do we do with all that left over matzoh? No one wants to eat it anymore. My kids love it at first. They are actually excited to eat it, but not now. Not after a week of eating only matzoh.

If you, too, are trying to figure out what to do with your leftover matzoh, munch on your leftover challah from Shabbat and check out his video. It will provide you with lots of good ideas. Plus, the song is worth listening to as well. Actually, I think she’s great.

Yesterday was Christmas Day, but at our home, it felt a lot like Shabbat. Actually, it felt more like Shabbat than most Saturdays.

I really hate to admit that fact, but truth be told, most Jewish holidays, Chanukah included, fall during secular work days or at times when secular activities occur. For example, on Friday afternoons, my daughter’s swim practices don’t end until 7 p.m. This precludes our family from lighting Shabbat candles together at sundown or making it to services on Friday night. On Saturday mornings, my son has dance rehearsal and class, and sometimes my daughter has swim meets, which means that more often than not we can’t make it to Shabbat services. We used to make it to either Friday night or Saturday services most weeks, but as our children got older and busier, it’s become harder and harder to do so. We do have Shabbat dinner together and light candles at whatever time we manage to do so, but Shabbat tends to feel rushed and fit into normal secular activities. And Saturday – the actual Sabbath – rarely consists of activities that don’t traditionally constitute “work.” My husband and I drive our children here and there. We handle all sorts of things, such as errands. And we generally feel as if we’ve spent the day rushing around. Shabbat doesn’t feel peaceful, filled with study or prayer (at least not traditional prayer in a synagogue or with a minyan), or lacking in work-related activities. It definitely isn’t a relaxing day.

But on Christmas, the secular world – which happens to actually be primarily Christian – comes to a halt. Everything closes down and stops. There is nothing to do. There is no where to go. Even Jews can heave a sigh of relief, slow down, and stop.

For this reason, yesterday – Christmas Day – I was able to spend all day sitting in a chair in my living room by the fire reading a Jewish book. I did cook dinner and help my son with his studying (he has midterms in a week and half) and watch a movie, but I mostly stayed in that chair all day. Even the cat took up residence there with me.

I felt more relaxed and at peace then I’ve felt in a long time. Unfortunately, I had to have a Christian holiday shut down the secular world in order to have that experience. A sad fact.

I know, if I was an observant or an Orthodox Jew, I would find that same experience each Shabbat, because my world, my life, would shut down no matter what the rest of the world was doing. I’m not an observant or Orthodox Jew, though. And because I don’t want my children to have to give up the things they love to observe their religion – because I don’t want them to hate and resent being Jewish – I must deal with the fact that only on a few days – like Christmas – might I find this peace and relaxation. But it’s not Shabbat.

I have to find Shabbat on Shabbat in other ways. And I try…and sometimes I do…with a personal prayer, an attempt at hitbodedut while waiting for my son, or an act of tzedakkah while going to pick up my daughter, or reading the Torah portion when I finally get home. Or sometimes its just by making sure the whole family is together to light candles and have dinner together on Friday night. And sometimes I actually do get to go to services!

As I watch my children, I know I’ve made the right choices for them. I see that the Jewish experiences they’ve had have helped them develop strong Jewish identities that they express all the time. They attended services on a fairly regular basis for many, many years. They each had a b’nei mitzvah event, which they led from start to finish. They celebrate most Jewish holidays at home if not at synagogue. They also attended Jewish camp for many years. (My son will attend for his last year this summer.) This year my daughter’s swim team marched in the town Christmas parade. Their float was “The Grinch Who Stole Christmas.” All the other swimmers where well known “Whos,” like “Cindy Lou Who,” but my daughter named herself “Jew Who.” My son has chosen Jewish children as his best friends at school. It’s the first time he’s ever been in a school with any other Jewish students, and those are the ones to which he gravitated.

I love my kids. I’m happy to sacrifice for them – even Shabbat observance. That said, I’ll be happy when they either can drive themselves to their activities or are in college and I can go back to observing Shabbat. Until then, I’ll take that peace and relaxation where I can get it. Christmas may exactly have afford me Shabbat shalom(Sabbat peace), but it still felt awfully good.

I’ve been feeling a bit melancholy lately, as well as grateful for my children despite the fact that they are driving me absolutely crazy. In the last month, three children have died in Los Gatos, the town where I live. A middle school boy took his own life, possibly because his girlfriend broke up with him or because the other children teased him about his sexuality. A high school senior and football player died of a possible heart defect. And four-year-old girl died in her sleep of some bizarre infection. All of these parents now must face the holiday season while dealing with their grief. For them December does not represent a “jolly, jolly season,” as the Christmas song says.

I know another family that lost their son this summer. They went on vacation and he developed appendicitis. The operation was successful, but the 13-year-old boy -their only child – died of complications afterwards.

Last night I was so angry at my son and daughter. Suffice it to say that I felt disappointed in their behavior. I see so much potential in them, and I don’t see them doing what it takes to fulfill that potential. What if I were, however, one of those parents whose children’s lives had been cut short. Their potential now can never be fulfilled.

So, on this Friday night as I smell the roast beef and challah baking, as I watch the sun setting like a crimson and orange ribbon across the sky, I feel both sad and happy. I’m sad for those who have lost someone recently. I remember Rabbi Holtzberg and his wife, who were killed in Mumbai just a few weeks ago…a memorial will be held for him in Monterey, where his cousin lives, this weekend. I remember my daughter’s best friend, who took his own life a year and a half ago. I remember my father and my husband’s father and my friend, Bill Ellis…

I’m happy that my family will join me around the Shabbat dinner table. I may not have a chance to attend Sabbath services tonight or tomorrow, but I’m grateful to have the chance to drive my daughter to an activity that moves her closer to her dreams tomorrow instead. I’m happy that my husband will do the same for my son. I’m at peace with the fact that my husband and I will work together this weekend on our property and that we can send some time together in that manner. I can pray to God while I spread mulch or while I drive my children to their activities or cook breakfast for my family.

And I’m also grateful for Shabbat, a sacred 25 hours when we aren’t allowed to feel sad or to mourn. While those who have lost someone may struggle through Christmas or Chanukah feeling their loss profoundly, on Shabbat, the Sabbath, we are instructed to feel joyous. We must take a break from our negative feelings, our deep sense of tragedy and emptiness and loss, and we instead must fill ourselves with the happiness that comes from connection with God.

Maybe by remembering God, by reaching toward the Divine, by renewing our faith, we develop the strength to get through our losses. Or maybe the “break” from mourning allows our minds and our hearts to process the loss on another level, thus making it easier for us to deal with it come Sunday. In any case, during this sacred time, we let go of all that drags us down and makes us sad, and we lift ourselves up. We pull ourselves up by our bootstraps, if you will, and find a way to smile. And smiling actually changes the body’s chemistry and makes us feel better. And that’s a good thing, even for a little while.

And we can still think about those who have passed, and we can allow their memory to serve as a blessing – not a curse – upon us and our lives. We can smile and remember them and be filled with love and joy at having known them and having experienced their essence – their soul – for even a little while.

So, take a break from the holiday season, especially if it doesn’t feel so joyous this year, and celebrate Shabbat each week. Bring some joy into your life for 25 hours every seven days. When the holiday season doesn’t feel jolly, be happy at least once a week on Shabbat.

Shabbat ends ends and the week begins. It seems like time starts again.

We finish reading the Torah and we begin again with the first portion, the first words of Genesis: “In the beginning.” These thee words been translated many ways, but scholars seem to argue that the words tells us something about the creation not only of the world but of time. Some say, time must have existed before God created the world. Others say time began as the world was created…as creation began.

No matter, it seems each year as we begin rereading the Torah from the beginning again, as we read those three words again, time speeds up just a bit more. The hands on the clock move a bit faster each day. The days on the calendar pass just a bit more quickly. The months go by like days. And before I know it, we are reading the last portion of the Torah and beginning again.

Does a way exist for us to go back in time to a time when we had more time? That’s what I’d like to know. I surely don’t have enough of it any more. I don’t have time to sit in my tent waiting for visitors or to wander anywhere for 40 years let alone 40 minutes (not even on a walk).

If in the beginning there was time, I’d truly like to go back to the beginning.