Every once in a while, Rose turns to me when I should be focussing on Leo and giving her a break rather than doing something lazy, and says "I don't think you have any idea what it's like." And it's true! I have no fucking clue!
A couple of days ago, coming back from work, I gave Rose a break by replacing her in bed while Leo was napping. I was tired and slept for about an hour. I was then *rudely* woken up by this baby who became increasingly agitated. Boy, was I ever out of it! As it is, I when I am awakened suddenly I am immediately struck by existential anxiety and disorientation and now I had to also soothe this baby. This was only a glimpse of what Rose goes through every single day. And so I take a minute and admit that I have no idea what it's like. And I say to Rose, you're amazing!
Saturday, October 15, 2011
Monday, September 12, 2011
Vaccination
Leo is now closing on three months and I can't transmit, in person or in writing, the intense emotions that I experience when I am with him. More than anything, I want to protect him. And how else do we protect our children from the messy world of germs, bacteria, dirty communal toys, and dirty public library books, and dirty people on the bus, other than vaccinate them?
"Did you know? The word 'immunization' comes from the world 'immune' -- which means protection from disease." Source: Public Health Agency of Canada, A Parent's Guide to Immunization (2009).
This is the kind of simplistic literature that I'm against when trying to make an intelligent decision about vaccinating my son. This little pamphlet (we somehow ended up with a published version) is inexcusable. But even a serious publication such as Your Child's Best Shot published by the Canadian Pediatric Society, in which vaccines are discussed scientifically, is so one-sided that it contains juvenile colour drawings bearing pro-vaccine messages done by children from across the country. Is it a wonder that on encoutering this stuff intelligent, skeptical people will become instant critics?
On the other hand, consider what the medical community is up against: vaccine skeptics who believe all sorts of unscientific nonesense about vaccines. Statistically, vaccines are effective and the side-effects rare. We also have an ethical duty to vaccinate our children. It's a kind of a free-loader argument. Your child will be safe only if everyone else takes on the risk of vaccinating their children. Vaccinating your children is both the rational and responsible thing to do. So what is there to be afraid of?
First, consider the interested parties: pharmaceutical companies are very high on the list. And, as Dr. Sears tells us in one of the saner books about vaccines: The Vaccine Book (look, I just found a critique of one of its most popular components, the alternative schedule) most doctors are not trained specifically in the area of vaccines. Some vaccines also have a poor history. They used to contain more mercury. Some of them still contain trace amounts. Some vaccines also contain aluminum. Today's science, of course, is always the best until tomorrow's science comes along and what we know and do today is exposed to be grossly unsafe and stupid.
And the saddest part about vaccines is the near certainty that your baby will cry for a few or many hours. How sad is that? I consider myself to be a rational person and yet I find myself giving in to this emotional consideration. What's a bit of crying compared to the risks of a serious illness? Rose's father, a physician, made this point: with a million Leos, the choice is easy; but when you have to choose for one Leo, it isn't so easy any more. His advice: vaccinate him because of the potential guilt I'd face if Leo is infected with a preventable disease later on against which he could have been vaccinated.
Here's an even sadder part. The world is a bad place with bad people and bad germs. And my baby boy is surrounded by loving parents and sheltered from this bad world (with the exception of his bus rides with mommy). I want to keep him sheltered from it but I can't. Now that he is the world, he is as much a part of it as any of us. Yes, one day my son will cry out of pain and frustration, but does he have to be three months old? And do I have to be the one to make a choice that will make him cry so?
"Did you know? The word 'immunization' comes from the world 'immune' -- which means protection from disease." Source: Public Health Agency of Canada, A Parent's Guide to Immunization (2009).
This is the kind of simplistic literature that I'm against when trying to make an intelligent decision about vaccinating my son. This little pamphlet (we somehow ended up with a published version) is inexcusable. But even a serious publication such as Your Child's Best Shot published by the Canadian Pediatric Society, in which vaccines are discussed scientifically, is so one-sided that it contains juvenile colour drawings bearing pro-vaccine messages done by children from across the country. Is it a wonder that on encoutering this stuff intelligent, skeptical people will become instant critics?
On the other hand, consider what the medical community is up against: vaccine skeptics who believe all sorts of unscientific nonesense about vaccines. Statistically, vaccines are effective and the side-effects rare. We also have an ethical duty to vaccinate our children. It's a kind of a free-loader argument. Your child will be safe only if everyone else takes on the risk of vaccinating their children. Vaccinating your children is both the rational and responsible thing to do. So what is there to be afraid of?
First, consider the interested parties: pharmaceutical companies are very high on the list. And, as Dr. Sears tells us in one of the saner books about vaccines: The Vaccine Book (look, I just found a critique of one of its most popular components, the alternative schedule) most doctors are not trained specifically in the area of vaccines. Some vaccines also have a poor history. They used to contain more mercury. Some of them still contain trace amounts. Some vaccines also contain aluminum. Today's science, of course, is always the best until tomorrow's science comes along and what we know and do today is exposed to be grossly unsafe and stupid.
And the saddest part about vaccines is the near certainty that your baby will cry for a few or many hours. How sad is that? I consider myself to be a rational person and yet I find myself giving in to this emotional consideration. What's a bit of crying compared to the risks of a serious illness? Rose's father, a physician, made this point: with a million Leos, the choice is easy; but when you have to choose for one Leo, it isn't so easy any more. His advice: vaccinate him because of the potential guilt I'd face if Leo is infected with a preventable disease later on against which he could have been vaccinated.
Here's an even sadder part. The world is a bad place with bad people and bad germs. And my baby boy is surrounded by loving parents and sheltered from this bad world (with the exception of his bus rides with mommy). I want to keep him sheltered from it but I can't. Now that he is the world, he is as much a part of it as any of us. Yes, one day my son will cry out of pain and frustration, but does he have to be three months old? And do I have to be the one to make a choice that will make him cry so?
Thursday, July 7, 2011
A state of intense warmth and openness
I'm back at work now, for the past two days. It is a sad state of affairs. Being distant from baby, Rose, and the various chores that I would otherwise be doing at home, I feel like I'm confronting myself again. I suspect that having all of my attention focussed on the baby is not meant to be used as an instrument for escapism, but it has been nice not to have to be preoccupied with my own issues, and work leaves me with a lot of time to do so.
But I don't want to be depressing. The reason I'm starting on the topic is to note the inevitable distance that is, too soon for my taste, now being placed between me and my baby. So I wanted to get to this while it's still somewhat fresh in mind: expressing the basic emotions that swelled up in the first moments, and first days, of being with my son. It all easily slips into cliche territory, especially when I am having small-talky conversations with some colleagues. And even more serious conversations don't always lead to a meaningful formulation. So I gave it some thought, and the first expression of the emotions I experienced was "a primal emotion of joy." Primal as in 'basic,' in the best sense of the word. But this was not quite right. So I ended up with "a state of intense warmth and openness."
I mentioned in my last post my marvelling at Leo's evolutionary mechanism through which he captures my complete attention. It is really an evocation striking at a biological aspect of my psychology. There is something fascinating about trying to observe my own nature irresistibly being manipulated in the process.
One of the more insightful books I read about parenting, Our Babies, Ourselves, is a lay introduction to ethnopediatrics,a recently-established branch of comparative anthropology which looks at how babies are nurtured across different cultures. By looking at how infant rearing is done in most cultures, typical North American practices such as sleeping arrangements, sleep training, strollers, reacting to crying, and diapers are challenged. The practices which are encouraged as a result of these types of comparisons, are reflected in attachment parenting (carrying your baby, sleeping with your baby, breastfeeding your baby). (Attachment parenting also emphasizes the neurologically immature state of a newborn, which is also a good reason to be nurturing the baby in a sheltered environment for the first few months).
It occurred to me that the innate biological reactions of parents to their babies might also be an interesting subject of study (and perhaps it has already been). I had thought of, and someone else mentioned, imprinting, as in our babies indelibly imprinting themselves on us from birth (though I think the term is used to describe the mimicking behaviour of newborns in certain species).
The benefits of having this emotional impact on his parents are obvious for a human newborn, the most helpless newborn of all mammals: the baby gets to be taken care of attentively, rather than abandoned for because he robs us of our sleep and takes over much our lives! The benefits to the parents are not as practical (nor external) for the first little while. Our reward is in experiencing a state of intense warmth and openness.
But I don't want to be depressing. The reason I'm starting on the topic is to note the inevitable distance that is, too soon for my taste, now being placed between me and my baby. So I wanted to get to this while it's still somewhat fresh in mind: expressing the basic emotions that swelled up in the first moments, and first days, of being with my son. It all easily slips into cliche territory, especially when I am having small-talky conversations with some colleagues. And even more serious conversations don't always lead to a meaningful formulation. So I gave it some thought, and the first expression of the emotions I experienced was "a primal emotion of joy." Primal as in 'basic,' in the best sense of the word. But this was not quite right. So I ended up with "a state of intense warmth and openness."
I mentioned in my last post my marvelling at Leo's evolutionary mechanism through which he captures my complete attention. It is really an evocation striking at a biological aspect of my psychology. There is something fascinating about trying to observe my own nature irresistibly being manipulated in the process.
One of the more insightful books I read about parenting, Our Babies, Ourselves, is a lay introduction to ethnopediatrics,a recently-established branch of comparative anthropology which looks at how babies are nurtured across different cultures. By looking at how infant rearing is done in most cultures, typical North American practices such as sleeping arrangements, sleep training, strollers, reacting to crying, and diapers are challenged. The practices which are encouraged as a result of these types of comparisons, are reflected in attachment parenting (carrying your baby, sleeping with your baby, breastfeeding your baby). (Attachment parenting also emphasizes the neurologically immature state of a newborn, which is also a good reason to be nurturing the baby in a sheltered environment for the first few months).
It occurred to me that the innate biological reactions of parents to their babies might also be an interesting subject of study (and perhaps it has already been). I had thought of, and someone else mentioned, imprinting, as in our babies indelibly imprinting themselves on us from birth (though I think the term is used to describe the mimicking behaviour of newborns in certain species).
The benefits of having this emotional impact on his parents are obvious for a human newborn, the most helpless newborn of all mammals: the baby gets to be taken care of attentively, rather than abandoned for because he robs us of our sleep and takes over much our lives! The benefits to the parents are not as practical (nor external) for the first little while. Our reward is in experiencing a state of intense warmth and openness.
Friday, July 1, 2011
Baby's here!
Great news! Rose and I have a baby! His name's Leo!
Leo was born Saturday, June 18 at 2:32 pm close to our living room floor (but with ample clearance!). I have been doing little but gaping at him for the past two weeks.
My son was born without violence. I am proud of this because Rose and I went through a lot of books, videos, and classes to learn about birth and were both hoping for, and working towards, a particular outcome. Rose did beautifully. Our doula was amazing. Our midwives were amazing. I was sleepy but maybe helped a bit too. If I can give anyone any advice on labouring is GET YOURSELF A GOOD DOULA. The process would have been a lot more stressful for us and a lot more difficult for me without the doula's support. I am grateful to everyone who were there and I am both grateful and humbled for our not having had to face any serious complications.
I cannot describe what it is like to be witness to the birth of my child and what it is like to spend the first three days with the baby. I marvel at the evolutionary mechanism by which I am helplessly charmed when grasping at this being with all my senses. I only wish I could spend more of my time with him in the coming weeks.
Leo has a great temperament. He almost never cries and when he does, the cry is well warranted! After attending a great Bringing Baby Home class, we are (so far) trying to be attachment parents. This after much skepticism on my part. But hey, go with the flow. It's hard to know how much of Leo's gentle temperament is due to our attachment parenting this early in the game. Or, for that matter, how much his gentle birth may have to do with it. It's early going still, and his attitude may change altogether! Rose is working through some breastfeeding challenges and that's going well. And I, after much joking around, finally decided that I'm interested in EC. Rose is getting on board, but not quite yet...
Having spent some pixel space on the topic of circumcision in the past months, I should also address it here. Leo was circumcised by a pediatrician who is also a mohel. It was a ritual Jewish circumcision modified for the occasion ('circumcision with intent to convert'). The mohel had it all worked out with his standard text and ceremony with which everyone was happy. Medically, it all went very well, and Leo is recovering great. But it was also a traumatic experience for me and difficult one for Rose. I may write about this more at a later time.
For now, enjoy Leo, hanging out with me mere minutes after his birth!
Leo was born Saturday, June 18 at 2:32 pm close to our living room floor (but with ample clearance!). I have been doing little but gaping at him for the past two weeks.
My son was born without violence. I am proud of this because Rose and I went through a lot of books, videos, and classes to learn about birth and were both hoping for, and working towards, a particular outcome. Rose did beautifully. Our doula was amazing. Our midwives were amazing. I was sleepy but maybe helped a bit too. If I can give anyone any advice on labouring is GET YOURSELF A GOOD DOULA. The process would have been a lot more stressful for us and a lot more difficult for me without the doula's support. I am grateful to everyone who were there and I am both grateful and humbled for our not having had to face any serious complications.
I cannot describe what it is like to be witness to the birth of my child and what it is like to spend the first three days with the baby. I marvel at the evolutionary mechanism by which I am helplessly charmed when grasping at this being with all my senses. I only wish I could spend more of my time with him in the coming weeks.
Leo has a great temperament. He almost never cries and when he does, the cry is well warranted! After attending a great Bringing Baby Home class, we are (so far) trying to be attachment parents. This after much skepticism on my part. But hey, go with the flow. It's hard to know how much of Leo's gentle temperament is due to our attachment parenting this early in the game. Or, for that matter, how much his gentle birth may have to do with it. It's early going still, and his attitude may change altogether! Rose is working through some breastfeeding challenges and that's going well. And I, after much joking around, finally decided that I'm interested in EC. Rose is getting on board, but not quite yet...
Having spent some pixel space on the topic of circumcision in the past months, I should also address it here. Leo was circumcised by a pediatrician who is also a mohel. It was a ritual Jewish circumcision modified for the occasion ('circumcision with intent to convert'). The mohel had it all worked out with his standard text and ceremony with which everyone was happy. Medically, it all went very well, and Leo is recovering great. But it was also a traumatic experience for me and difficult one for Rose. I may write about this more at a later time.
For now, enjoy Leo, hanging out with me mere minutes after his birth!
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Presence of mind
Following a scheduling mix-up, Rose and I managed to have our first full pre-natal meeting with our doula today. There was some confusion about the time, but she made it this afternoon and stayed with us for not quite three hours. Three hours is a long time for me to keep absorbing information about managing labour, excitedly related by a woman passionate about the topic. Luckily, there was some laundry that I could go down and deal with for a few minutes for a break. Rose seems to be very much in tune with this doula, and the doula does have a lot of energy and passion, which is great.
This meeting got me thinking about presence and labour, or labour and presence. Rose and I have been exposing ourselves to a lot of information and expert knowledge on the process of labouring (we had a pre-natal class over two Saturdays recently, each session of about 6 hours). There are at least two reasons that we're amassing all this knowledge, and they both have to do with being prepared for labour. First, we want to know what is going on! The various technical descriptions of contraction timing, for example, will help us figure out in what stage of labour we're at. Second, we want to know how to manage labour, in particular, strategies for pain management, comfort measures, positions, drinking, eating, whatever.
This is going to be a significant process and it is being directed, rightly, at Rose's (and the baby's, don't forget the baby!) experience. It is everyone's job to help Rose have a positive experience. Not least of which, it is her own job. And it will be a huge job for her. But it is also my job (and the doula's job, and the midwife's job). And an important part of this job involves being present. For the whole time. Being there, with awareness, with presence of mind.
At one point during our meeting today, when Rose excused herself for a few minutes and the doula and I were chatting, she asked me how I'm feeling about this process. I said I'm learning (I mentioned to her earlier in the meeting that I'm reading this book; a great resource, but a slow read), but that I have this general feeling of incompetence about the whole process, like someone's who learned motorcycle repair from book. "Without having ever looked at a bike," she completed the thought. Yes. Exactly. Not unhelpfully, she said that what I do have to offer is unconditional love. Less helpful I thought is her conviction that my intuition will take over.
I am getting a sense of why my father made the choice of not being part of labour. I have not been given a similar choice, and I think it's a good thing that I haven't been. One of the key principles that we have been reading about and taught is the importance, for a labouring woman, of going through the pain, not working against it and not fighting your body. My own task is to work through this passive resistance, to get outside my own comfort zone, and, when the time comes, be an active, helping, and loving presence. To commit to the process, with my presence.
This meeting got me thinking about presence and labour, or labour and presence. Rose and I have been exposing ourselves to a lot of information and expert knowledge on the process of labouring (we had a pre-natal class over two Saturdays recently, each session of about 6 hours). There are at least two reasons that we're amassing all this knowledge, and they both have to do with being prepared for labour. First, we want to know what is going on! The various technical descriptions of contraction timing, for example, will help us figure out in what stage of labour we're at. Second, we want to know how to manage labour, in particular, strategies for pain management, comfort measures, positions, drinking, eating, whatever.
This is going to be a significant process and it is being directed, rightly, at Rose's (and the baby's, don't forget the baby!) experience. It is everyone's job to help Rose have a positive experience. Not least of which, it is her own job. And it will be a huge job for her. But it is also my job (and the doula's job, and the midwife's job). And an important part of this job involves being present. For the whole time. Being there, with awareness, with presence of mind.
At one point during our meeting today, when Rose excused herself for a few minutes and the doula and I were chatting, she asked me how I'm feeling about this process. I said I'm learning (I mentioned to her earlier in the meeting that I'm reading this book; a great resource, but a slow read), but that I have this general feeling of incompetence about the whole process, like someone's who learned motorcycle repair from book. "Without having ever looked at a bike," she completed the thought. Yes. Exactly. Not unhelpfully, she said that what I do have to offer is unconditional love. Less helpful I thought is her conviction that my intuition will take over.
I am getting a sense of why my father made the choice of not being part of labour. I have not been given a similar choice, and I think it's a good thing that I haven't been. One of the key principles that we have been reading about and taught is the importance, for a labouring woman, of going through the pain, not working against it and not fighting your body. My own task is to work through this passive resistance, to get outside my own comfort zone, and, when the time comes, be an active, helping, and loving presence. To commit to the process, with my presence.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
More fun with the Rabbi
When I was in Junior High, in north (and I mean north) Toronto -- at the time, for those of you who might remember pre-amalgamation MEGACITY -- it was called North York, Willowdale even.... (Hey, I voted in that referendum. No one can say that I supported this monstrosity. Fourth freaking largest city in North America. Think about that for a second. Bigger than Boston). ...
I digress.
Back when I was in Junior High, in what was a very Jewish school -- new Jews, old Jews, first generation Canadian Jews, second generation Canadian Jews, and lots of Russian Jews -- we had, from time to time, Lunch with the Rabbi. It was awesome. What would happen is you and some other Israelis would hang out with a Rabbi and would be given Israeli treats which would only increase your nostalgia for a country from which you were brutally deracinated.
But I digress. And exaggerate.
You all know where this is going. This is turning into a religious blog, you rebel! It's not. But it's my damn blog and I'll write what I want and nobody is even reading this anyway, right?
So yesterday was my (sorta) weekly lesson with my Rabbi who is leaving for Chicago. Very sad, yaddi, yaddi, yadda. OK, here's the baby part of the blog. I mustered up my courage (for some reason, when sitting across from this man, I feel like I have a rock for a head and I lose my suaveness) and asked him about his decision regarding the circumcision (this is becoming truly self-referential). I had all my arsenal at the ready. It will be early July probably. Maybe he'll be interested in an Ottawa visit. Maybe I will pay for his ticket, or half. No dice. "Why don't you get in touch with Dr. Engel?" I'll get in touch with Dr. Engel. But I still wanted his real answer. "The decision has been made for me," he said. "I'm moving to Chicago."
Now, for all interested in sticking around for the second half of the blog post. Here it comes.
For some reason, my Rabbi wanted to get to the rainbow part of the story of Noah that we even skipped a couple of paragraphs. Remember how God made an oath never to flood the earth again, "for the imagery of a man's heart is evil from his youth" (yeah, I screwed up the Stone translation -- imagery, not image, for yetzer). And so, to mark this oath--actually, to mark a covenant with humanity, God creates a rainbow (you can bet it was a double, or even a triple, rainbow all da way for that first rainbow of the world). "And God said, 'This is the sign of the covenant that I give between Me and you, and every living being that is with you, to generations forever. I have set My [triple] rainbow in the cloud, and it shall be a sign of the covenant between Me and the earth. And it shall happen, when I place a cloud over the earth, and the bow will be seen in the cloud. I will remember My covenant between Me and you and every living being among all flesh, and the water shall never again become a flood to destroy all flesh.'"
OK, my Rabbi has really been waiting to share this passage with me, that's why we skipped. He's been talking about it for a while. Now, you know the drill, he starts running around the study, looking for a book. He consults with the Rabbi leading the talmud session, gets an opinion, and goes back to the shelf. Can't find it. He'll ad lib. It's OK, he knows this stuff.
"So when see a rainbow, we should be happy, right?" he asks (rhetorically of course). "God is reminding us of the covenant he made with all living beings." I nod.
"No!" he says, "we should be sad. We should be sad because God is reminding us (or himself) that although he is angry with us, he won't have another flood, because so he swore."
"OK."
"What about a lunar eclipse?" Now he's really getting into it.
"According to a midrash, lunar eclipses are considered a bad omen for the Jews. Now, how can they be a bad omen? We know that we can predict them scientifically. "Hold on," he says. Runs around some more, finds books this time, and brings them over. This is highly advanced stuff (for me). The talmud. I move over and sit beside him. He reads aloud. We look at another text, this one written a couple of hundred years later, interpreting the older interpretation (this is how biblical exegesis works). The explanation is as follows: during the time of solar and lunar eclipses, there is a greater potential for misfortune. What about earthquakes?
This is where it gets weird. Through this whole discussion, we never make reference to Japan once. I do almost, but think it unnecessary, assuming that we are both living on the same planet. And, to be fair, maybe it wasn't necessary, maybe it was all in the background.
Now before we all get to the punchline here, I want to put this in context. These texts that we're looking at are old. They were written by wise men A LONG TIME AGO. Strange ideas. And yet, and yet... These texts are immensely respected in this one community. They are taken at their word, though interpretations, I would think, have to be stretched. The texts are valued as interpretations, but must, I would think, be seen with some perspective. This is esoteric and obscure stuff, and I do not understand it. (This is why I am looking forward to reading this book which was banned by certain influential rabbis).
So I found, on important surfing time today, two blog posts from people who actually know what they are talking about, on earthquakes in the talmud. These can do better justice than I can to the passages I listened to yesterday. First, the causes of earthquakes. This learned scholar explains that earthquakes may be caused by "any one of a number of acts: yes one of them is gay sex, but others are by disputes, and also by not taking heave offering and tithes from your produce, and also because God is just upset that the Temple is in ruins and there are theaters and circuses in Israel."
The more interesting question is, what is the physical process which gives rise to an earthquake. We all have some notion of this, right? Tectonic plates grating against each other, etc., right? Wrong, earthquakes are caused by two of God's tears in the sea:
I digress.
Back when I was in Junior High, in what was a very Jewish school -- new Jews, old Jews, first generation Canadian Jews, second generation Canadian Jews, and lots of Russian Jews -- we had, from time to time, Lunch with the Rabbi. It was awesome. What would happen is you and some other Israelis would hang out with a Rabbi and would be given Israeli treats which would only increase your nostalgia for a country from which you were brutally deracinated.
But I digress. And exaggerate.
You all know where this is going. This is turning into a religious blog, you rebel! It's not. But it's my damn blog and I'll write what I want and nobody is even reading this anyway, right?
So yesterday was my (sorta) weekly lesson with my Rabbi who is leaving for Chicago. Very sad, yaddi, yaddi, yadda. OK, here's the baby part of the blog. I mustered up my courage (for some reason, when sitting across from this man, I feel like I have a rock for a head and I lose my suaveness) and asked him about his decision regarding the circumcision (this is becoming truly self-referential). I had all my arsenal at the ready. It will be early July probably. Maybe he'll be interested in an Ottawa visit. Maybe I will pay for his ticket, or half. No dice. "Why don't you get in touch with Dr. Engel?" I'll get in touch with Dr. Engel. But I still wanted his real answer. "The decision has been made for me," he said. "I'm moving to Chicago."
Now, for all interested in sticking around for the second half of the blog post. Here it comes.
For some reason, my Rabbi wanted to get to the rainbow part of the story of Noah that we even skipped a couple of paragraphs. Remember how God made an oath never to flood the earth again, "for the imagery of a man's heart is evil from his youth" (yeah, I screwed up the Stone translation -- imagery, not image, for yetzer). And so, to mark this oath--actually, to mark a covenant with humanity, God creates a rainbow (you can bet it was a double, or even a triple, rainbow all da way for that first rainbow of the world). "And God said, 'This is the sign of the covenant that I give between Me and you, and every living being that is with you, to generations forever. I have set My [triple] rainbow in the cloud, and it shall be a sign of the covenant between Me and the earth. And it shall happen, when I place a cloud over the earth, and the bow will be seen in the cloud. I will remember My covenant between Me and you and every living being among all flesh, and the water shall never again become a flood to destroy all flesh.'"
OK, my Rabbi has really been waiting to share this passage with me, that's why we skipped. He's been talking about it for a while. Now, you know the drill, he starts running around the study, looking for a book. He consults with the Rabbi leading the talmud session, gets an opinion, and goes back to the shelf. Can't find it. He'll ad lib. It's OK, he knows this stuff.
"So when see a rainbow, we should be happy, right?" he asks (rhetorically of course). "God is reminding us of the covenant he made with all living beings." I nod.
"No!" he says, "we should be sad. We should be sad because God is reminding us (or himself) that although he is angry with us, he won't have another flood, because so he swore."
"OK."
"What about a lunar eclipse?" Now he's really getting into it.
"According to a midrash, lunar eclipses are considered a bad omen for the Jews. Now, how can they be a bad omen? We know that we can predict them scientifically. "Hold on," he says. Runs around some more, finds books this time, and brings them over. This is highly advanced stuff (for me). The talmud. I move over and sit beside him. He reads aloud. We look at another text, this one written a couple of hundred years later, interpreting the older interpretation (this is how biblical exegesis works). The explanation is as follows: during the time of solar and lunar eclipses, there is a greater potential for misfortune. What about earthquakes?
This is where it gets weird. Through this whole discussion, we never make reference to Japan once. I do almost, but think it unnecessary, assuming that we are both living on the same planet. And, to be fair, maybe it wasn't necessary, maybe it was all in the background.
Now before we all get to the punchline here, I want to put this in context. These texts that we're looking at are old. They were written by wise men A LONG TIME AGO. Strange ideas. And yet, and yet... These texts are immensely respected in this one community. They are taken at their word, though interpretations, I would think, have to be stretched. The texts are valued as interpretations, but must, I would think, be seen with some perspective. This is esoteric and obscure stuff, and I do not understand it. (This is why I am looking forward to reading this book which was banned by certain influential rabbis).
So I found, on important surfing time today, two blog posts from people who actually know what they are talking about, on earthquakes in the talmud. These can do better justice than I can to the passages I listened to yesterday. First, the causes of earthquakes. This learned scholar explains that earthquakes may be caused by "any one of a number of acts: yes one of them is gay sex, but others are by disputes, and also by not taking heave offering and tithes from your produce, and also because God is just upset that the Temple is in ruins and there are theaters and circuses in Israel."
The more interesting question is, what is the physical process which gives rise to an earthquake. We all have some notion of this, right? Tectonic plates grating against each other, etc., right? Wrong, earthquakes are caused by two of God's tears in the sea:
"When God takes notice of his children, who are mired in oppression among the nations of the world, He drops two tears into the ocean, and the resultant commotion is heard from one end of the world to the other.”
We conclude. When we see a rainbow, witness an eclipse, or learn of an earthquake, we reflect on what this means to us, children of Israel.
But what about Japan?
One quick correction here: I was jumping from lunar to solar eclipses above. If I remember correctly, SOLAR eclipses may portend a bad omen for Jews and lunar ones, for the Gentiles (because Jews follow the lunar calendar). So there.
But what about Japan?
One quick correction here: I was jumping from lunar to solar eclipses above. If I remember correctly, SOLAR eclipses may portend a bad omen for Jews and lunar ones, for the Gentiles (because Jews follow the lunar calendar). So there.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
"For the shape of a man's heart is evil from his youth"
My Rabbi, of whom you have already heard, is moving to Chicago, to head up a yeshiva. This is great news for him and I wish him the best! Also, this leaves me without a potential mohel. I have not broached the topic with him since the last time and I'm not sure if I will again. This can become a major issue for me, as I have certain expectations and will only have someone that I trust fulfill this role. Then again, there's a 50-50 chance that no mohel will be necessary; but, should one be, I will probably have other things on my mind in the first eight days of my son's life!
So I had my (sorta) weekly class with my Rabbi yesterday. We have just been going over, line by line, the Hebrew bible (Tanach). We only end up having 20 minute sessions, so we're not very far along. Only the second parasha, following Genesis (the story of Creation): the story of Noah, with which everyone is surely familiar. Some of the details may surprise you, but the basic outline of the story is well-known (for example, I, along with many others no doubt, assumed that the symbol of the olive branch for peace originates from this story. But going over it with the Rabbi, this appeared to make no sense. A bit of googling revealed that this symbol is probably of Greek origin. But I digress.)
So yesterday, my Rabbi and I got to the end of the flood, when the water subsided completely and Noah opened the ark and, along with his family (his wife, his sons and their wives), and all the animal specimens kept inside the ark, stepped on dry land. Noah proceeded to prepare an offering to God of some of the animals (who did not go extinct as a result of this; another detail in the story which I will not get into) by burning them on the altar (those were different days than ours). God found the scent rather pleasing and, being appeased by it, vows never again to curse the land nor smite every living being. There is simply no point for "the shape of a man's heart is evil from his youth." I'll stop for a second just to note the striking lyricism of this passage in Hebrew, for those of you who can read it: כי יצר לב האדם רע מנעוריו
Some of you can appreciate that some passages just do not carry the same force in translation. Another striking passage, in the story of Cain and Abel, when God confronts Cain with the death of Abel He says "What have you done? The voice of your brother's blood cries out to Me from the earth!" (All translations (adopted) from the Stone Edition). This is clumsy, the Hebrew,
מה עשית קול דמי אחיך צועקים אלי מן-האדמה
comes at you at 100 miles an hour.
OK, so the Rabbi and I read this ("the shape of a man's heart is evil from his youth"), the Rabbi looks at me and asks, "Are you ready to be an educator?"
"I'm not sure," I answer.
"You're going to be one soon."
"OK"
"Do you have the tools to be an educator?"
"Hardly."
"OK then," he says, "give me one sec," and starts running around the study. This is a pretty big room, lots of desks, chairs, a talmud session going on, a couple of other partners studying together. He's looking for a book. Looks over here, looks over there, has a chat with some fellow students, asks around, comes back.
"We don't have it! How can we not have this book? OK, I'll paraphrase for you."
I forget the particulars of this book. It is some kind of commentary (obviously).
So the word translated as "shape" or "form", as in "shape (or form) of a man's heart" is yetzer, something like an inclination. Yetzer ha-ra is an inclination for evil. And he tells me, the Rabbi, that children have to be trained (his word), for they all come with this basic inclination. Fair enough, but "trained"? He goes on, in the tradition, and tells me a couple of entertaining stories told by his teachers. The point of these is, sometimes being a disciplinarian is called for. Sometimes, "because daddy said so," is the correct answer. Why? Because, if children do not hear this when they're young, they may well go astray, following their evil inclination.
My internalized reaction is to resist this approach, to view it as archaic (and perhaps typical in this case). But, while the Tiger Mother may be extreme, tough love may sometimes be in order. Or am I launching a culture war?
Now, in my own attempt to appease God, lest it be thought that I am not properly showing respect, I'll share with you this awesome song.
So I had my (sorta) weekly class with my Rabbi yesterday. We have just been going over, line by line, the Hebrew bible (Tanach). We only end up having 20 minute sessions, so we're not very far along. Only the second parasha, following Genesis (the story of Creation): the story of Noah, with which everyone is surely familiar. Some of the details may surprise you, but the basic outline of the story is well-known (for example, I, along with many others no doubt, assumed that the symbol of the olive branch for peace originates from this story. But going over it with the Rabbi, this appeared to make no sense. A bit of googling revealed that this symbol is probably of Greek origin. But I digress.)
So yesterday, my Rabbi and I got to the end of the flood, when the water subsided completely and Noah opened the ark and, along with his family (his wife, his sons and their wives), and all the animal specimens kept inside the ark, stepped on dry land. Noah proceeded to prepare an offering to God of some of the animals (who did not go extinct as a result of this; another detail in the story which I will not get into) by burning them on the altar (those were different days than ours). God found the scent rather pleasing and, being appeased by it, vows never again to curse the land nor smite every living being. There is simply no point for "the shape of a man's heart is evil from his youth." I'll stop for a second just to note the striking lyricism of this passage in Hebrew, for those of you who can read it: כי יצר לב האדם רע מנעוריו
Some of you can appreciate that some passages just do not carry the same force in translation. Another striking passage, in the story of Cain and Abel, when God confronts Cain with the death of Abel He says "What have you done? The voice of your brother's blood cries out to Me from the earth!" (All translations (adopted) from the Stone Edition). This is clumsy, the Hebrew,
מה עשית קול דמי אחיך צועקים אלי מן-האדמה
comes at you at 100 miles an hour.
OK, so the Rabbi and I read this ("the shape of a man's heart is evil from his youth"), the Rabbi looks at me and asks, "Are you ready to be an educator?"
"I'm not sure," I answer.
"You're going to be one soon."
"OK"
"Do you have the tools to be an educator?"
"Hardly."
"OK then," he says, "give me one sec," and starts running around the study. This is a pretty big room, lots of desks, chairs, a talmud session going on, a couple of other partners studying together. He's looking for a book. Looks over here, looks over there, has a chat with some fellow students, asks around, comes back.
"We don't have it! How can we not have this book? OK, I'll paraphrase for you."
I forget the particulars of this book. It is some kind of commentary (obviously).
So the word translated as "shape" or "form", as in "shape (or form) of a man's heart" is yetzer, something like an inclination. Yetzer ha-ra is an inclination for evil. And he tells me, the Rabbi, that children have to be trained (his word), for they all come with this basic inclination. Fair enough, but "trained"? He goes on, in the tradition, and tells me a couple of entertaining stories told by his teachers. The point of these is, sometimes being a disciplinarian is called for. Sometimes, "because daddy said so," is the correct answer. Why? Because, if children do not hear this when they're young, they may well go astray, following their evil inclination.
My internalized reaction is to resist this approach, to view it as archaic (and perhaps typical in this case). But, while the Tiger Mother may be extreme, tough love may sometimes be in order. Or am I launching a culture war?
Now, in my own attempt to appease God, lest it be thought that I am not properly showing respect, I'll share with you this awesome song.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)