B"H

7 Jewish Kids At Church?

I ran into one of my elementary school teachers just the other day. I used to love seeing her at school because she was the only Jewish teacher and I also could see her at temple with her twin girls. Beautiful young women they were. I used to watch what they wore, how they did their hair, what they said and the terms they used. Girls a few years older always made an impression on me. I think it was because I am an only child, so I had to learn from somewhere. I used to envy these young ladies.

As I exchanged hellos and quickly caught her up with my life, she shared that her daughters were married and she was the grandmother of 7 children. I became excited until she went further into the fact that her daughters had converted and she was not able to see their weddings. My heart dropped.

1st, you must honor thy mother and father. Not allowing your mom into your wedding because she is Jewish and you have left the faith made me not only want to vomit, but wreak havoc! I mean what a nightmare for a woman who raised you in a warm and loving home. I cannot think of anything worse than ignoring your mother’s feelings and not allowing her to partake in such a serious event. I know that this family was close and that the woman who stood before me was a very active and loving mother; she’s nothing to avoid! Secondly, by Halacha her grandchildren were still Jewish, but they will NEVER know! These 7 children will not be taught their culture and heritage that is rich with beauty and worth.

I get angered. With the Jewish population dwindling and assimilation being such a serious subject. I stood there trying to be happy for this woman who clearly was also uncomfortable with the situation. Two days later I ran into a woman from the salon that I had previously run into my beloved teacher. She said she held my teacher as she cried on the day of her daughters wedding and how sad the whole situation is. I suddenly realized that simcha is really a view point. For her daughters, raising these kids in a loving home is a simcha. Although I am not saying these two women should be burned at the stakes for leaving their faith and mother behind, I am saying their simcha brings tears to many people’s eye. Unfortunately, these are not tears of joy, but tears of grief and anger.

I try and find a place to blame. Was it our synagogue? Maybe they did not do enough outreach. I certainly know I did not find a love for my faith through it. Was it my teacher’s lack of cultural enrichment? Maybe she herself was not taught the deep values of a Jewish home or how much prayer and culture can enrich your being. Should these young women have gone on Birthright as soon as they hit college or not been allowed to date outside their faith as teenagers? It really boggles my mind. In Judaism there is something for everyone! You just have to be proactive like anything else! You did not learn how to tie your shoe without being taught and you will not find a way to be spiritual without being taught in a myriad of ways!

Faith is a prescription and it’s dosage is whatever you make of it. Some of us like the culture. Some find it through social events or religious holidays. Some people are at the 3X daily. This very situation makes me concerned for my own children (G-d willing I ever find Mr. Right). Will I get the dose right or will I too be excluded from a wedding or have grandchildren that will never know what a joy being Jewish is?

Simcha (happiness) is all in perspective.

Be true to the streets!

Yentapunker

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Why Mixing Isn’t Always What It’s Cracked Up To Be: A Lesson on Leshon Hara


Jewish Mixers and a lesson on why mixing isn’t always what it is cracked up to be: A lesson on Leshon Horrah….

So it is clear that Jewish mixers are an invention from the Jewish grandmother. They’re sly and cunning and deceptively alluring with food and other freebies. As the summer time warms our beaches and many of us have our outdoor activities, we crave company of friends and significant others. At one particular mixer, I was thrilled to have the pressure off. I was dating someone and was there purely for the social aspect. A-ha! A window of opportunity to not feel pressure within the Jewish community.

I had previously asked a friend if his group would like to join mine for coffee. As I was taking off to go to Aeroma (the wonderful Israeli filled coffee house on the west side of town), I stopped my friend mid-conversation to discuss if they would join us.  As I overheard his friend speaking to him she stated, “That girl has no chance with him (speaking about her male friend and a woman off in the distance). She has a huge nose and she’s ugly!” My heart stopped. The first thing I thought was holy crap. What if I was the girl she was talking about? Secondly, I looked at the girl exchanging a pleasant conversation with handsome male company and this girl making the comment. I figured her Jewish mother had told her she was absolutely beautiful her whole life. Such a warped sense of self. This girl looked like she did not know what a vegetable was. I was shocked such mean things came into my mind and gained my friends attention. The girl who had just said such harsh things waits for me to get in a word to my friend.

I had a very quick inner monologue that went like this:

Holy crap she just bashed another Jew.
Does she know she’s not a 10, not even a 5?
Why am I thinking such horrible things?
I think I am angry that she spoke horribly about this defenseless woman.
What to say? What to say?
Be smart about this, but do not allow her to act like that.

After the monologue, this came out, “ Hey ___________, I was going to ask you if you and your friends were coming, however, as much as I deeply wish you could come, I do not want to expose my wonderful group of loved ones to someone who not only publicly demeans people they don’t know, but seems to take joy from it to make her own esteem flourish.” Her mouth dropped and I suppose she decided to take her anger out on me after I up and left.

The moral: When we open our mouths publicly, we earn judgment from others. It is not always right to judge, but it is ALWAYS right to realize when something should not be socially accepted. Leshon horah, the restriction of speaking with an evil tongue. There is always a reason for G-d’s rules and guidance. A mixer only works when mixing is allowed.

Be true to the streets!

Yentapunker

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Judaism, Transcendentalism, and Public Schools

Of course as a public school teacher I need the time to rant about how I educate students about ideologies that are not my own. It makes perfect sense to me, when this becomes my thought process:

In 1794 Thomas Paine wrote about Deism through his novel “The Age of Reason”. Unlike any author before him, he had scrutinized the Calvinist church and set a precedence that challenging aristocratic society and those who took to a corrupt religious social structure. This innate though that life is essentially born from good, and not the “infant damnation” that the Calvinists took to, was not so insightful as the Jewish faith had been in this thought for centuries.

As the thought manifests its way into another movement, it translates into the Unitarian Church, which believes that all the laws of G-d are understood innately through our conscience. Well, duh! Again, the Jews have long before used proof that gut feelings and human understanding of the laws could be adhered to. I mean, study a little Talmud or Gemara eh? Again, I am perplexed…

Due to the nature of my job, I slowly move into the Transcendentalist movement. The “Oversoul” being the euphoric sense of nature and that G-d is present in nature as well. Then, I think of Tu Beshvat and the celebration of the trees and land. I can’t help but want to turn to my students and be like, “Hey, your religions are evolving into what mine already is!” It’s so frustrating to be on the page everyone is moving towards, but they have no concept of my religion’s underlining themes and ideology.

Teaching in a public school is easy, rewarding, and above all the best decision I have made for myself. However, I have to say, sometimes things are a challenge. It seems that my biggest one, in terms of curriculum, is that I want to offer the students a bit more emmis (truth) then what they are getting. I know, separation of church and state. Yet why is it okay that winter break always lands on Christmas?

Stay true to the streets!

Yentapunker

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Thunder From Down Under Ain’t Kosher!

By YentaPunker

There are plenty of rabbis and Jewish mothers that would cringe and make “Oy vey” commentary, but how could one resist to blog about the truth? The truth of the matter is that I was schlept to Thunder from Down Under in Vegas last week for a bachelorette party. Now, lets paint the full picture for you:

In line were women of every size imaginable, Hashem created or store bought. My favorite had to be the grandma with the walker and the oxygen tank. I knew there was something terribly lucid about this woman when she was trying to move faster as she realized the better seats were taken. The only thing I could think of was how unsanitary the thoughts and words of these women were. A newly 18 year old girl with piercings and a Rastafarian hat stood behind me with her mother. He mother expressed joy and stated this was not her first show. Of course when I asked where they were from they responded with Reno. Of COURSE you are! How silly am I? I couldn’t believe a girl would want to see something so sexual with her mother. I realized my mom would have been okay to come with me, but I would have been adamantly against such things.

I was amazed… See we learn a few things when being in multiple Jewish communities. In the more observant sects of Judaism, we understand that men’s thoughts and motives can be changed by sights and introductions to avayrot (sins for a lack of better translation). Men are visual creatures that do not operate solely on visions, but do get caught up in them. Women are not as instructed to be mindful. Women are taught to be coy and realize they are vulnerable creatures that are moved by emotional connections. In the reform household my mother raised me in, I was taught that women are sexual creatures that need and desire both types of love, physical and emotional… both before marriage.

One shabbos in Los Angeles there was a rabbi who mentioned a poem called To My Coy Mistress. The premise of the poem was that a man wanted to have sex with a woman he just met. She clearly wanted to be courted, but the man was very carpe diem about his libido and basically states “Baby, I don’t have all night”. I found this to be the VERY feeling of the show. These Australians were going to show their “underoos” as soon as possible, before one of these women popped an artery because “baby, these ladies don’t have all night!” So the show begins!

At first I was sure all these men were Jewish. The dancing was horrible and the choreography looked like something out of Fiddler on the Roof. (I am so sorry Grandma!) As it continued and the pants came off, I realized that this was the most unkosher venue I have ever attended. Now, don’t get me wrong, people are entitled. However, I was more than surprised as to see women of all ages touch the tushies of men they don’t know, or worse, the man’s unit! I was absolutely dumbfounded when a mother-in-law of the bride to be (not my bride thank goodness) was tossed on stage and made out with and fondled. The man pinched her nipples as she touched him in places that are making this YentaPunker blush like it’s going out of style. No one should ever see a 60 year old gray haired Bubie on stage!

I was really surprised when we left. I felt like I needed some mikvah action. Like something needed to be washed away quickly! My eyes had been scared! Then it dawned on me. I used to ask why the heck someone who was in the orthodox world wouldn’t see a porn or maybe even just watch TV. That the beaches could be difficult if you’re teaching your child to be snius (modest) and clubbing could be wicked. Then I realized what I had just left was 1 call short of a donkey show. It took watching an old lady being happily molested on stage for me to realize that I might have been desensitized by my experiences in the world. Now, I am not saying that I agree with completely shutting experiences out due to fear or emotional trauma, but I do see why one would limit their experiences.

I feel like my punk rock–ness went down a little in Vegas. Like me being Jewish let me be a little less “hardcore”. That somehow To My Coy Mistress only served a purpose for double mitzvas on shabbos when the kids go to sleep. That knowing someone might actually be better than paying to see something you cant have. Later realizing, that someone cannot even respect what they could have with a significant other. That love and lust can be mutual or mutually exclusive. It made me question what these women might be missing from their husbands or boyfriends. It made me wonder how many of these women connect to Hashem on a level that’s so meaningful, that cheap penis cannot compare.

Ultimately, I learned that my Judaism follows me from shul, home, and to the depths of the Las Vegas strip and that even when I think I might have a moment to break free from what might bind me, I’m still bound. I think I have seen enough “thunder” for one lifetime. It’s not to say that women shouldn’t enjoy breaking lose, but above all I will NEVER say that men are worse than women after what I have experienced. And as I drove home from Vegas, the idea that someone needed to take off their clothing for money only made me sad inside.

As always, be true to the streets (and yourselves)

YentaPunker

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Culturally Overlooked

I think religion is interesting because for some people it’s terribly personal and for others, it is absolutely not. Living in a predominantly Christian society has been interesting. I, like many of you, was stuck in an elementary school class doing something that was not part of my Jewish culture. In the 4th grade, I had to write a letter to Santa Claus. Interestingly enough, he never showed up to my house to deliver the million dollars as per my request. To make matters worse, the Easter Bunny rejected my 100lb of chocolate request. In jest, as an adult I claim these two Pagan features of the Christian religion are anti-Semitic and do not want to share their goodies with Jewish kids. However, in my humor, there is some rage. In high school, I had to fight with my choir director. He repeatedly tried to make me sing about Christ and even threatened to fail me. I was appalled. I felt like there was this constant battle between church and state in my public education. And of course, it got so bad my parents had to follow up the issue with a Jewish stereotype and call a lawyer. I, now as an educator, do not allow any holiday parties. I do allow healthy discussion, but in no way do I allow judgment or ridicule.

I think the classroom has led to many misconceptions about what is appropriate in the realm of religious tolerance. In school, Hitler jokes and Holocaust jokes are not permitted, but it’s okay to dye Easter eggs. Clearly I see a difference, but the concept between hateful speech and ignorance is still a blurred line. What message are we sending? What does the Jewish kid do?

As we get older, we experience this naïve perspective, when a college roommate or an acquaintance makes a poor decision to express how okay one of these taboos is in a Jewish kid’s public school experience. We get Christmas and Easter cards and have holidays off because the government gives us those days, but we have to take off Yom Kippur and Rosh Hashanah. I’ll work Christmas and Easter! What do I care?

Ultimately, with all this kvetching, I know I want better for my children (if I ever have any), or at least yours. I think we as a culture need to express that not everyone values the same holidays. It’s true we have many things that are flawed about our society, cultural awareness being one of them. I have not figured out how to solve the problem yet, but I am sure I can identify the scenario as it unfolded.

So for Jewish kid that sat upon Santa’s lap, but he never came…. For any Jewish kid who learned Christmas songs… For every Jewish kid who had to take a test in college on a Jewish holiday… For every kid who’s school took picture day on Yom Kippur….Remember, we can make a movement for cultural awareness, but we cannot be silent. One small stand at a time might make it easier for someone else.

Keep kickin’ it old shul and be true to the streets!

Yentapunker

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A Poem For The Holocaust

Society tells us, “Stand in line and take a number.”
Well, they make numbers seem so optional now.
And Tattoos no longer taboos.
Make a trend out  of what they brand.

7359624
“Take a number!”
Lines once made for dyin’
Women and children cryin’
Packed-
Moved like cattle
Guns to fists my people battle
And you want me to take a number?

Why don’t I just sew a patch on my arm?
What’s the harm?
I’ll give you a number.
6 million of me filled in line.
Not doing time-
Doin’ eternity.

Brother don’t look at me.
You called that a ghetto?
Your ghetto gets groceries!
I don’t know what a food stamp is.
And your showers have water
That’s different too.
Washing our bodies with toxic gas
Being called Jude
Where the only way your number was gone was burned.
In an oven no less.
The flames of fire cave in your breast.

Heads shaved, shoes stolen, women raped for fun.
Police were public enemy number one.
Crimes against humanity-
Nazis countless, Jews none.

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Take a number! Take a number you say?
Kristlanach was not just some shards of glass on broken sidewalks
But broken dreams from twisted hearts.
And those tears fallen were swept by angels.

Take a number!
But numbers mean nothing
I am a statistic
Of the sadistic-
Time?
You conceder the 1930’s the good ol’ days.
Take a number
7359624
I’ll stand in line, but I already have my number.

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Jewish Activism

Miriam-Webster’s dictionary stats that activism is: a doctrine or practice that emphasizes direct vigorous action especially in support of or opposition to one side of a controversial issue.

The problem with understanding this term in a Jewish context and an English teacher’s context is that I understand “active” as a verb. This means there is actual movement or action within every calculated move. So what does it mean to be an activist? Can one do so in the context of their own spiritual beliefs or do we hand this thought over to the Zionists and socially aware? I think we can have it both ways.

To be an activist within your own spirituality might be learning or taking up new prayers. It can be attending a class that makes us more active spiritually and within the community. To actually connect with G-d is an act of activism. When every ounce of faith you have is poured into a heartfelt conversation or plea with G-d, when we realize that we need to put in some work with G-d to get something in return. Maybe it’s a short Bracha we learned in class or maybe it’s a prayer that might help traffic part on the way to work. Sometimes it’s mitzvot that we do in turn to connect. Whatever it might be viewed as, it’s active.

Social activism comes with a different context and sometimes at a different price. Both are seen as valuable in the Jewish world. To stand with Israel is an activist approach. Maybe you feel more Jewish or more connected when you stand with your Israeli flag on a street corner and sing “Shalom Aleichem” while the opposition shows depictions of terrorism in IDF uniforms. We attend rallies, encourage peaceful demonstrations, and teach a local group or random neighbor something insightful about Israel. Maybe it’s as simple as screaming at the left wing reporter on the news that clearly has misguided information about a place you know and love.

None of the above suggestions or tactics work for you. Clearly you want to be an activist in your Jewish world and of course you’re entitled to decide what is “Jewish” so let’s look at what you like. Maybe you’re very much into the concept of social work or you have a skill like law. You can do some Pro Bono work for your community or help Jewish families in crisis. You cant do this? Why? You work at a grocery store. Perfect! Start a canned food drive for Mazon, A Jewish Response for Hunger.

The problem with wanting to be an activist and actually being one is that we can all WANT something. Doing is really the key, really the act of mitzvot. By being an activist in your Jewish life, you are connecting with G-d on a level you feel most comfortable. No one can tell you that Tikkun Olam, my favorite of all concepts in Judaism, is not needed or valued.

I implore the Jewish community to challenge itself. What makes us active in our own faith and actions? What is the verb in our daily worship or conversation with G-d? If we are able to find one, try to find more. Every act we do can help create a bond stronger than the one previous. It is when we forget that activism is defined by doing that we, as a community, can become empty vessels. An active heart and active hands will promote a Jewish home. Jewish homes promote Jewish community. A Jewish community can promote Tikkun Olam. And to think, just a few small actions a day…

Be true to the streets!
Yentapunker

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A Jewish Namesake

It’s terrible to feel like you don’t stand out. Like you could fall in to chasm of Jewish people at shul and never be identified because your parents thought it was beautiful to make your name sit amongst many. It’s the way we work as a people. A baby boy clearly has a chance of being named Josh, Ari, Dan, Issac, Jacob, David or Matthew. A baby girl also has a risk of commonality: Rivka, Leah, Sara, Rachel or Miriam. Some of us have been blessed by getting both a first and a middle name that are common, almost stripping us of our individuality at the core.

For years my mother bragged that she had given me a very Jewish name. She said she wanted everyone to know with a name like Rachel Sara that I would be a strong woman. At shul she could yell my name and thought it was a sheer delight when 20 other girls would turn their head to a thick Brooklyn accent yelling for her daughter. Little did she ever know she would have to direct her voice to the other Joshes and Davids of the world because that’s where I was, playing football during breaks at shul.

Everywhere I went someone had my name. It made me feel like I was swimming in a world of Rachels and I had nothing special in my name to offer. I met a Merav once and nearly wept at the fact she had such a different name than most. Even dating got awkward since I have had a fair share of dates with Davids and Daniels. Speaking to my friends, we would have to name them attributes of their character, to distinguish one from the other.

As I got older there were so many Rachels at one particular shabbos table that I had to become “Schiff”. Now I not only had a first name that was so common we had to come up with something new for me, but I felt like a line backer for a major football team. What girl gets called by her last name? Like being a member of the tribe was a team and I had a jersey that read “Schiff” in large letters on the back. I was like all the others, but now had a new issue of feeling masculine. People introduced me by my last name, like I had no first. This name thing was really getting to me.

Just recently, I decided to read “The Boy in Stripped Pajamas”. A young boy name Shmule is in a death camp. He’s around 7 years old and talks about how everyone on his side of the fence has his name. He complained that his name was nothing special and that he was one of many. I bawled. What a way to identify with people. To have a name that binds you culturally, historically, and shows understanding on such a deeply rooted level. Then, I finally realized what my mother had been so proud of. It took me 27 years and a book with a 7th grade reading level to get it, but I think it did.

A name is like an onion. First, at the center (for my name), is Rahel, who is buried in Israel at the side of a road. Ever since her, there have been other Rachels in Jewish history, each making a layer around the original. My name adds to the many generations that have come since then. I stand on the shoulders of strong women who have come before me.

It is an Ashkenazi tradition to name your child after a family member who has passed away. My mother continually tells me that all Jews are family. That when one is hungry, we all need food and that when one needs help we should give as though they are our flesh and blood. By giving me a name that seems so unoriginal, so plain, she was giving to those women who had come before me.

Although I still find it frustrating to thumb through my blackberry and try and distinguish one Jewish name from the next; I have found some humor and pride from it. Funny enough, I owe my comprehension and appreciation of my name to a small, fictional boy in stripped pajamas.

I no longer complain about being one of many.

Be true to the streets! –Yentapunker

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How To Eat Amongst The Masses

By Yenta Punker

When I am out in a mixed bunch of Reform and Conservative Heebsters, the dinning can get tricky. What ultimately bothers me is that it’s no one’s business who puts what in their mouths. So, I decided we need instructions so people can shut the hell up.

If you are strict in your Halacha, you’re not eating at non-kosher restaurants anyway and so surely you can ignore this rant. This loud and clear beat down is for the rest of you who either do something or nothing at all.

For all of you who do nothing, be kind to those who do. Eat what you want; the avayrah (sin) is yours if you even believe that you’re committing one.

For those of you who do “something” which makes you feel as though you’re keeping kosher, my first advice is to know you’ll be educating people who don’t understand your ways. You’ve surrounded yourself in a social abyss of people who aren’t like you. Rock on for being comfortable! Just know, they may not be comfortable with anything remotely religious. That’s okay, be tolerant. Don’t judge people who deal with the halacha differently than you. It’s not a contest between you and them; it’s an expression of your faith to Hashem.  Don’t make people at the table who do “nothing” feel like crap either. It’s not a way to win friends and surely it won’t make them feel like starting something new either. Remember, when you started to keep kosher, someone taught you or you had to read up.

As Jews we love food. Heck, when we’re serious about tuvah (repentance) we even give it up. The most important thing you can do for another Jew is welcome them. Next time you’re sitting around so random table and having a caloric haven amongst you… stop, order what you want, and smile to the person who just ordered what you would have never dared. It’s a teachable moment if someone wants to be taught, but sometimes a nishama (spirt) can speak for itself. Lets eat!

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It's Punk Rock to be Wicked

(YentaPunker)

Hurry and clean the bread out of your homes! Quick! Those bagels are about to become the very link to your own personal disconnect with Hashem. What? No bagels? That’s fine, a breakfast burrito or some pancakes will do. Yeah, right! Welcome to Passover! Carbohydrates in some of their best forms become sinful thoughts for eight days.

For two nights (the two seders), we find ourselves surrounded by family and friends. For some, it’s a joy. For many, it’s a challenge. For few, it may be the only Jewish experience we have all year. The way we handle our Judaism can also be compared to the four sons mentioned in the Haggadah. The four sons are: the wise (“Chacham” in Hebrew) , the simple (or lazy, “Tam” in Hebrew), the wicked (“Rasha” in Hebrew) and the silent (“She’aino Yodea Lishol” in Hebrew, meaning “The Son who Doesn’t Know Enough to Ask”).

Many people focus on the one who does not know how to ask. Ironically, however, many of us at the table are actually the wicked son. I mean, if you’re at the table, you probably have the idea you’re Jewish right? It is exactly this that keeps sites like our very own Punktorah.com alive. For many Jews, you have sat year after year at a shabbos table or a Passover seder and thought “Why am I here?”  You know at least the most basic of laws and you might even attend young adult events or have hit a Hillel in college or a BBYO event in your teen years of punk rock rebellion.

What is crucial to understand about all these sons (or daughters… I mean, I am a YENTApunker… not a MENCHEpunker) is that each has a place at the table. What Jewish person wouldn’t have enough food for one more extra person anyway? Yet, it is the wicked son that seems to be embraced by many of us though.  The wicked thinks the laws apply to other Jews, but not themselves.

Situation: It’s a Monday morning and after a long night of punk rock craziness you ignored your alarm. You’re now totally screwed and cannot make it to work on time. You throw on a shirt that is only moderately wrinkled, hop in your economy vehicle, and speed to work.

Now, it is highly possible that a police officer never catches you on the way to work. However, Hashem sees everything.  He knows that you’re aware you’re breaking laws and putting yourself or others at risk. If you continue to speed, knowing the legal limit, you too fit in the wicked category.

Why would I want to label many of my loved ones as wicked and not the wise or the simple? Well… it seems so much nicer to realize we all have an ability to grow. The wise son almost implies we have nothing left to learn. However, our neshamas have much to learn and can always learn more. Many of us are not simple. We are not lazy, we are functioning in the secular and the Jewish community. The long hours of Tikkun Olam have to count for something right? But wicked, many of us proudly are, despite the connotation.

Wicked sounds so unpleasant, but I implore you challenge the connotation and see its beauty.  Embrace the idea that you might learn something at the table or that you might have it in you to learn something this year. Being wicked doesn’t have to be looked upon as bad. Acknowledge and embrace your wickedness. Enjoy it, but use it to identify where you can grow spiritually.

Overall, the laws do apply to us all. This Pesach try and find one law to learn. Hell, pick up some Leviticus and read. It won’t hurt you anymore than those commercials for Viagra do. I mean, if it’s from Hashem  it’s perfect right? So nourish your spiritual roots in four glasses of wine and remember, it’s punk rock to be wicked.

L’Chaim and Chag Sameach!

You’ll never find a better sparring partner than adversity.
-Golda Meir

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