This colorful booklet lists all the ritual items needed for the Passover table. The history and significance of each item on the seder plate is explained, as are the customs that have been handed down through the generations in different centers of Jewish life.
InterfaithFamily and the Workmen's Circle are celebrating Tu B'Shevat, the Jewish New Year for the trees, and you're invited!
Join us for a FREE afternoon filled with food, music, art projects and social justice.
A great way for Jewish professionals and volunteers who work with and provide programming for people in interfaith relationships to locate resources and trainings to build more welcome into their Jewish communities; connect with and learn from each other; and publicize and enhance their programs and services.
Today’s blog post brings us well into wedding planning process—as well as to a few other relationship landmarks.
The birthday King Cake
Last week we celebrated Justin’s birthday, which we do in a traditional (to him, not so much to me) way—with a King Cake. The King Cake is a Mardi Gras custom (Mardi Gras being part of the Carnival celebrations that occur immediately before the observance of Lent)—and Justin’s family has roots in the Bayou of Louisiana.
With his birthday falling so close to Mardi Gras each year, it’s become a tradition for his Grandparents (who live just over the Louisiana border in Mississippi) to send him a King Cake.
Before meeting Justin I’d never had a King Cake. Now it’s something I look forward to each year. This purple, green, and gold cake is topped with frosting and sugar, and from the time it arrives until we’ve eaten it all, every meal involves cake. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, mid-day, and midnight snacks all involve King Cake. (And, as we are adults, we have deemed it okay if one wants to have a slice of cake before dinner.)
The most important part of the King Cake—besides it being delicious and often arriving in the same box as Mardi Gras beads—is that it comes with a plastic baby Jesus hidden inside the cake. It’s good luck if you find the baby in your piece of cake.
And, every year that we’ve celebrated with a King Cake, I’ve always ended up Jesus-less.
The King Cake baby.
Somehow that plastic baby is always in one of Justin’s slices of cake. (Perhaps there’s a secret to finding the King Cake baby that I’ve missed out on? My ability to always find the Afikoman at a Passover Seder does not seem to translate to the King Cake’s hidden Jesus.)
Justin’s Jesus finding skills did, however, set us up for a fantastically cheesy exchange this year about how he was the one with the luck—thus he gets to marry me—and I was the one without the luck—hence I was stuck marrying him.
This year, we’re hoping that little plastic baby Jesus is going to bring us some mutual luck—especially as we move from the theoretical planning into actually putting the plan into action.
I love telling our “how we met” story, because if you don’t know us, it’s pretty unexpected. And, if you do know us, well, our beginnings make a lot of sense.
Justin & Jordyn in Guatemala
We met three years ago in Guatemala City, both having traveled there for a photography workshop. My first impression of Justin was that he was a skinny hipster. (You’ll have to ask him what his first impression of me was.)
On (what we now realize was our first date) we climbed an active volcano just outside of Antigua. At the top we roasted marshmallows on the volcano’s natural heat sources and felt like we were on a completely new planet. On the way down, distracted by taking pictures and pausing to climb trees, we got momentarily separated from the group and started practicing, in our very limited Spanish vocabulary, the phrases we might need to get a ride back into town. Eventually, we found our bus back.
Afterwards, covered in dirt, we went out for dinner.
A few months later, on a camping trip in Pennsylvania, Justin broke his T-12 vertebrae and severed his spinal cord incompletely. After being life flighted to a hospital, a seven-hour surgery, and a week in the ICU, we both felt the intensity and realness of our relationship. (I’ve written previously for IFF about how I processed praying for Justin, when our faiths were so different.) The next few months I traveled back and forth between Boston and the rehabilitation hospital in Philadelphia where he was recovering.
These days we live just outside of Boston in Salem, Massachusetts. We’re both photographers, and I’m part of the communications team at Keshet. Our day-to-day life of marathoning TV shows, looking for photography work, and teaching ourselves how to cook is punctuated by weekend adventures—it’s not abnormal for me to go into work on a Monday and answer the question of “what did you do this weekend” with “we ended up in the middle of New Hampshire and met some people who were ice fishing in the middle of a frozen lake…”
Our proposal story is the flip side of how we met—but, much like our first date, it makes complete sense if you know us.
There was no big romantic moment, but a long discussion. After several years of dating we knew how we felt about each other—the question was more how we felt about marriage. In many ways, deciding to get married made a lot of sense. In other ways, it was more of a stretch. We went back and forth about wedding hypotheticals and what would be important to each other. For me, having a Jewish ceremony was the most meaningful part of taking our commitment to the next level. For him, having a large gathering where all of our family and friends could be part of a celebration was essential.
Our decision to get married was just that—a joint, mutual decision. We both asked each other, we both agreed. We kept the news to ourselves for a while, just to see how it felt. A few weeks later we got a ring from my family, and we made it official. And, we’ve set a date: 9.26.15.
We’re pretty excited to share our story with IFF’s Wedding Blog. Storytelling—with photos and with words—is a big part of who we are. We’ll be navigating how to put together a ceremony that feels comfortable and right for my Judaism, appropriate to Justin’s secular belief, and understandable for all of our guests. We’re trying to plan something on a modest budget, and we’re hoping to do so without going crazy. I’m sure there will be some surprises along the way, but right now we’re looking forward to our next adventure.
One of my favorite holidays is Hanukkah, and for that, I give a lot of the credit to the Beerorah. The Beerorah is something that my fiancé Derek and I came up with the first Hanukkah we were dating – well, really it’s a gift pack from He’Brew brewing company (a division of Schmaltz brewing) that his best friend had given him when the friend found out he was dating me.
We joke that the Beerorah combines our two loves: “My love of God with his love of beer.” And Derek really does love beer – it’s his hobby in a true aficionado’s way. I have learned more about craft beer in the four-and-a-half years we’ve been together than most people learn in a lifetime, and we love to visit beer bars and breweries just to try new and rare beers. Also he and his best friend have a collection of over 500 bottles of (craft) beer, carefully inventoried in their “beerventory.”
As for me though, the love of God part is apt too. A Conservative Jew, Judaism has always been a large part of my identity. Growing up, I attended synagogue every Saturday because I wanted to – not only to gain guidance from the Rabbi’s sermons or to enjoy the serene satisfaction of the silent Amidah (one of my favorite prayers), but because it was the center of the social circle for my friends and I. Go on a date? Having family drama? Meet at synagogue and we can discuss it.
But going to synagogue and practicing Judaism were also integral to my identity in part because of the climate in which I grew up. I am from Riverdale, NY – home of eight or nine different synagogues and many many Jews. Nonetheless, my synagogue was swatstikaed one weekend when I was in Hebrew School. On the night before Kol Nidre (the holiest night of the year) a year or two after September 11th, our synagogue was firebombed with Molotov cocktails. We attended services while eager news crews waited outside to interview us and have gone through metal detectors and pat downs with varying regularity ever since. So my Judaism and its essentialness to my identity came in part from the fears to my safety that came with it – and the way those fears bound my group of close friends and I together to the community and to each other.
The 5th Annual Beerorah (From 2014)
That said, it was never essential to me to date a Jewish guy. I greatly enjoyed learning about different religions and cultures and watching people experience aspects of Judaism for the first time. I always had a strong opinion about how I wanted to observe Judaism and had my own relationship with God. I knew that my kids will be Jewish, that I am Jewish, that my family is Jewish, that I will never be anything but Jewish. And honestly, I knew I needed a laid back low-maintenance sports fan kind of guy – I wasn’t sure I would necessarily find that within the Jewish community.
You can say “Oh, but traditions! But continuity! But faith!” but I have also found that Derek has been much more respectful of my faith and practice than the Jewish guys I’ve dated. One got mad at me for not answering the phone while I was at a Friday night Shabbat dinner. I got in a heated argument with another who asked, “But WHY do you believe? WHY do you have faith? Where’s the rational proof that God exists?” Both were the moments when I knew the relationships wouldn’t work out. The Beerorah was one of the first examples of Derek’s openness and respect of my faith. And when we light it together each Hanukkah (this year was its fifth iteration), it reminds me of that – that we can meld what matters to us together to create something just as wonderful (or more wonderful) than the original. I haven’t compromised anything – I’m still Jewish, and I still have my love of God and my observance. He still has his love of beer. And we both have each other.
Just like my guy, my wedding dress found me in a weird unexpected way that, despite having watched more episodes of Say Yes To The Dress than I can count, took me by surprise.
What I thought I wanted...
My mother had saved her wedding dress in case I wanted to wear it at my wedding, and I promised her it would be the first dress I put on. I didn’t want to try it on alone, and I had no idea how to unpack or repack it so as to preserve the last 33 years…so I invited three of my friends over one Saturday morning, kicked my fiancé out of the apartment, and played dress up.
The thing is, it really felt like I was playing dress up. I felt like I was wearing a costume, not my wedding dress, and while it’s a gorgeous dress and fit me perfectly, the high neck, long sleeves, and overall itchiness made me feel like it was not for me. But I was also upset in that I really felt like someone playing dress up. Would I not feel like a bride? Would I not be a bride?
I thought of Carrie Bradshaw on Sex and the City and the episode where she realizes that she can’t marry Aidan after having a reaction to the wedding dress. As I asked my friend to unzip me, a small part of me was afraid this was another step in that direction. Maybe I wasn’t meant to be a bride?
So rather than waiting for the appointments I had planned with my family and friends back in New York City, I snuck to the David’s Bridal a block from my house one night without an appointment about a half hour before it closed. I just wanted to look around and get a vision of myself in a wedding dress that wasn’t from 1981. I literally put my box of pizza on the floor and tried to go through the racks.
Eventually, a sales person approached me and asked me if I needed help. I explained my project – that I just wanted to try on a dress to get the image of my mom’s dress out of my head. I showed them the picture. They understood. (And this isn’t knocking my mom’s dress – it’s a beautiful dress, and I would be honored to wear it – it just didn’t feel like mine). So she showed me to a catalogue and I hurriedly selected a few dresses I wanted to try, apologizing the whole way.
Since I wasn’t expecting to get THE dress, I had chosen a short dress off the sales rack that I thought might be a good option for one of my engagement parties. I put it on and… no. Not the one.
The first dress I tried on
So I grabbed one of the two dresses she had left for me and tried that on instead. I remember feeling that it was a little fluffy – I wasn’t sure whether to put it over my head or step into it. There was no coddling – I was alone in the dressing room trying it on. But as I stepped out, I glowed. It was beautiful. It was elegant. It was simple. It was romantic. It was timeless. It was classic. It was me.
But I wasn’t looking for THE dress, so I just asked them to take a picture of it, hurriedly tried on a sheath dress that wasn’t nearly as magnificent but was what I had thought I wanted, and went home.
Only I couldn’t stop staring at the picture. I wanted to show everyone. It was so beautiful. I thought, “This might be The One.”
Sure enough, I became even more excited about my long planned dress shopping appointment in part because it was only a few miles from the David’s Bridal in New York and I could go show everyone how amazing the dress was if nothing else worked. As I tried on dresses at the bridal salon with my mother, my grandmother, and one of my best friends, I just kept comparing everything to the dress from Chicago – the no name, but the one that was just so me.
And soon we were in the car again heading to David’s Bridal, and I was in the dress again, and ringing a bell saying yes to the dress. It wasn’t the designer I thought. Or the price. Or the style. But I cannot imagine walking down the aisle in anything else. So I guess it found me.
It is hard to believe it has already been a month since our “big day.”
It is finally starting to sink in.
It seems that we have not stopped moving since we got married. Between the holidays, Lisa’s sister getting married, and my new employment opportunities, there has been barely a moment to sit and take it all in. However, this week, we received our photos and have been listening to our playlists from the ceremony and reception. It is certainly bringing us some cheer.
It was an incredible journey for us both. Physically, emotionally, and spiritually.
We had a lot of help along the way. So thank you everyone who helped. Friends, family, and loved ones. Thanks to all our wonderful vendors too. Thank you all who followed us both on this journey and the whole InterfaithFamily staff who gave us this opportunity to talk about and really explore what having an interfaith wedding is all about and meant to us. (I also apologize to our photographer because I had to resize all the photos to fit into this post, they simply do not do her work justice.)
After the wedding, we ended up answering a lot more questions than I thought. We had a lot of members of Lisa’s family asking about the Ketubah ceremony, while others asked about the circling of one another toward the beginning of the ceremony.
We also received a ton of compliments. The donut table (instead of cake) was a huge success. You could not tell the difference between the adults and children because all of them kept staring at the table with hungry eyes, even with a belly full of delicious meatballs. Our Jewish friends also said that when it comes to the Hora, Lisa and I hit it out the park. It was their most fun moments of the wedding.
What’s next in our journey? That is a great question. We are hoping after the New Year to settle down a little bit more. There should be some clarity in our close future. I also hope to attend temple more regularly. For the first time in awhile, we do not have a deadline for our life and maybe that is the best gift of marriage. It is what you do with it after the big day.
Hi, my name is Reva Minkoff, and I absolutely cannot wait to marry my fiancé, Derek. That sentence, or a derivative of it, is something my grandfather used as part of a marketing campaign for a bridal magazine about fifty years ago, but I guess it’s universal and transcends time.
Derek and I have been dating for over four years and have lived together for the past year, but his proposal still took me by surprise on August 15th. For those of you that are fans of the show Friends, I joke that he pulled a Chandler—he spent about six weeks convincing me that he was not going to propose anytime soon. “What if I promised you that we would get engaged in ten years?” He’d ask. I think that number started at fourteen. By the time he proposed, I’d gotten it down, year by year, to four more years until a proposal. In the car ride up to Michigan, where he proposed, I had essentially resigned myself to the fact that I was never getting married.
So to say I was surprised by the proposal is probably an understatement. But of course, we both knew that my answer would be yes.
As much as I wanted to marry Derek, it increasingly became less and less of a question or a choice as to whether I would be with Derek, regardless. Ok, that’s not entirely true—I was considering leaving over this whole “why won’t he marry me” issue—but as I said, by the end, I really think I might have stuck around.
You see, Derek and I weren’t looking for each other. We met at a friend’s Hanukkah party. She and I had met at Break Fast that year and were becoming close friends. She and Derek worked together. I had been on a great date the night before the party, and while evaluating my options, wasn’t actively looking. I have no idea what was in his head. Over wine and latkes, we laughed, talked, and bonded over the “movie quote” game my brother and I made up years ago.
Over the next seven months, Derek and I kept winding up together. Our friend likes to throw dinner parties, and we were both on the invite list. One night at a blues club, we started flirting. His cousin told him she thought I might be into him. A few weeks later, after the friend’s birthday party, my roommate counseled that he thought Derek liked me. I didn’t believe him.
But eventually we both independently (and unbeknownst to each other) asked our friend for permission to go out with the other person.
On our first date, he thought I wouldn’t be interested in a relationship with him because I was Jewish and he wasn’t (not true: I have always dated people who aren’t Jewish and had no problem doing so), and that I was seeing someone else (kinda not true, as our mutual friend made me promise never to see that guy again if she were going to give me permission to go out with Derek).
We took this right after he proposed and I said yes!
As for me, I liked how he pushed me and challenged me. I liked how he made me laugh. But I was afraid that he wouldn’t be strong enough to handle someone like me. I was afraid I would walk all over him. Which, as it turns out, could not be farther from the truth.
In the beginning, every six weeks or so he would want to have a serious conversation to remind me that he wasn’t looking for anything serious. I would ask him if he was happy and if he had a good time when we were together. He would say yes. I would say then let’s just take it one day at a time. After about four months, those conversations stopped.
Four years later, we have an amazing partnership, and I cannot wait to walk down the aisle with him. People often say that love comes when you aren’t looking for it—and perhaps in many ways we are a great example. I wasn’t looking for him. He wasn’t looking for me. But we found each other. And now, the campaign that my grandfather came up with for a bridal magazine rings true. I cannot wait to marry him and share our journey to our October 11, 2015 wedding with all of you.
Are you planning a wedding? For help finding a clergy member to officiate, send a request using our free officiation referral service.
The following is a guest blog post by the groom’s father, Phil Goodman followed by some additional thoughts from officiant Rabbi Robyn Frisch who is the director of InterfaithFamily/Philadelphia
Sam's parents, Phil and Pennye
Like many of you I have enjoyed Anne and Sam’s wedding blog, but I have a major bias, I am Sam’s father. By way of introduction, over thirty years ago I entered my own interfaith marriage. I was not overtly active in daily religious practice and neither was my wife. Raised as a Conservative Jew, in my twenties I had become the proverbial twice-a-year-Jew assuming I would become more involved once I had a family. Pennye, raised Catholic, practiced little of any Christian faith. Once engaged we attended many community programs addressing interfaith marriage issues as we knew they would continually be the elephant in the room and it was important for us to have a basis to lean about what we knew would be part of every family decision we would make as a couple. We found a rabbi to perform our wedding ceremony as the Jewish traditions included in our ceremony were important to me and many of our guests, and acceptable to Pennye.
Religion remains an extremely important part of both of our lives. Jointly we’ve explored each other’s beliefs. I am a committed Reform Jew who, with my wife’s full support, has been very active in our large suburban congregation and held many leadership positions. Pennye is a committed Presbyterian with similar leadership positions in her church community. We are very lucky to have found two faith communities that accept both of us and consider both of us as resources when figuring out how interfaith issues affect their congregations. The key is mutual respect.
I frequently find myself in conversations concerning the increase in interfaith marriage in current society. I always ask the naysayers whether they practice their religion the way their parents do. Rarely is the answer “yes.” I then ask why they have any expectation that their children should be any different. When Sam brought Anne into my life I could not be happier for them as a couple. Individually they will figure out how their beliefs and practices will be part of their lives. InterfaithFamily certainly provides resources that were not as readily available to us thirty years ago. Over the past three years I’ve seen how Anne seems to complete Sam and visa versa. Their happiness is all that really matters to me.
Incorporating religious tradition, both Jewish and Catholic, in their ceremony was important to Sam and Anne. I expect that Sam’s upbringing made him cognizant that the beauty of his wedding day would partially rely on the comfort of the clergy participating in an interfaith ceremony. Knowing that our family’s rabbi did not perform interfaith ceremonies, his participation was never considered. (This rabbi was their guest at the wedding and in the following week he extended a congregational membership to Sam and Anne.) Sam and Anne were lucky to have relationships with other clergy who have known them individually since their childhoods, who took the time to get to know both of them over the past year, and who were willing to co-officiate. These personal relationships added to the beauty of the ceremony that seamlessly wove in two religious traditions.
I was honored when Sam and Anne asked that I toast them at their reception. Assuming that the maid of honor and best man would probably offer lighter remarks about the couple, I wanted to be more solemn and personal so I included the following in my speech:
“Following the priestly benediction over our children on Shabbat after we light the candles we ask that God make our sons like Ephraim and Manasseh, the sons, not so ironically for us here today, of Joseph and his Egyptian wife brought from an interfaith Diaspora into the fold by their grandfather, Jacob, becoming the namesakes of two of the tribes of Israel. Sam, wherever life may lead you, may you be like Ephraim and Manasseh, earning and deserving the respect of your peers and prospering by your continued good deeds.
We also ask that God make our daughters like the matriarchs Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel, and Leah. Anne, may you be like our matriarchs, the diligent manager of your household and strong protector of your family.”
At the end of the day, the oldest biblical history of our separate religions is the same. The past two thousand years may have led us down different paths, but the desire to make our world a better place and dreams for our children are the same. The reverence and respect that Sam and Anne have shown to their different religious faiths offers us all hope as it has provided us opportunities to learn from and about each other. I don’t deny that our uniqueness is important, but finding a way to weave our separate threads into a tapestry of new traditions that can envelop us all should be our goal.
Rabbi Robyn Frisch shares a few more personal words:
Monsignor Hopkins & Rabbi Frisch co-officiating the wedding
I met Sam and his family 13 years ago when I came to work at the congregation where Sam grew up. The Goodmans have been good family friends since then, and I have always admired the way that Sam’s parents navigated their own interfaith marriage. It has been a true pleasure for me to get to know Sam and Anne together as a couple for the past year. When Lindsey Silken mentioned many months ago that she was looking for a new couple to be wedding bloggers for InterfaithFamily, I knew that Sam and Anne would be perfect! Here is a piece of what I said to them at their wedding ceremony.
“Over the last year I’ve had the joy of getting to know you as a couple and of reading your blogs about your relationship. I’ve been so touched by the respect you have for one another. It’s rare to meet someone in their 20’s who has such a connection to both family and religion – such an awareness of their heritage – as each of you do. You’ve probably both heard me say many times that I hope that when my kids grow up they have as deep a connection to their Judaism as the three Goodman kids (Sam and his sisters) do. Anne, I know that you too respect this about Sam – just as he respects your bonds to Catholicism.
Rather than being scared of each other’s bonds to your religions, you both admire that in one another and you have let this draw you together. Rather than either of you trying to convince the other to believe or to worship the way that you do, you’ve explored each other’s religious traditions to learn what is meaningful to your partner. You’ve accompanied each other for family holidays and for worship – and your families have engaged in “Theology on Tap” sessions, combining both of your loves for learning, for holy scripture, and for a good beer.
Neither of you expects the other to compromise in a way that isn’t sincere; nor do you compromise your own practices or beliefs. Rather, you navigate your own unique path – together.”
Congratulations to Anne and Sam from everyone at InterfaithFamily!
I made a comment to Lisa while we were getting our hair done together this week. This is what you and I are going to look like on our wedding day. It was a jarring statement that caught Lisa off guard.
I did not mean that we were walking down the aisle in jeans and hooded sweatshirts. I meant that if you asked 5-year-old Ryan what he would look like or who was the man he was going to be on his wedding day, he could not have imagined it. And everything is different from what I imagined on my 15th birthday. And even at 25, I would not have believed you I would be getting married 600 miles from where I grew up and that was only four years ago.
At the beginning of this blog, I was asked to introduce Lisa and me as a couple. That couple could not have planned what lay ahead for the both of us. It is amazing to look back when I first started writing in April and see the changes in our lives that have happened since then. Many of them were not planned, but Lisa and I remained a team and got through all the ups and downs together. The wedding we planned in April is nowhere near identical to the wedding that is happening in just 8 days.
Where am I going with this? I don’t know.
My spiritual mentor Scott and I talked about the power of “I do not know” this week during our weekly chat. Sometimes in life, it is best not to know. There is a lot of truth in that statement. We tend to get caught up on what we do know, and forget that we do not need to know everything in order to be successful. We simply have to trust that G-D has got it worked out.
Easier said than done. Especially this close to the date and you feel like you have to know everything. Everything needs to be set in stone. And maybe for the wedding it does have to be. However, at the moment, in life, it is best that I do not know life’s full plan. Knowing that I love Lisa with all my heart is really all I need. Life’s other details will be taken care of with or without my help, it seems.
I have talked about being spiritually ready to get married throughout the course of this entire blog. I can say that I am ready and have not even gone to the mikveh yet. What I thought “spiritually ready” looked like in April, and actually feeling it now, into my soul, are two very different things.
"...the one who chops your wood.. that you may enter into the covenant with the LORD your God, and into His oath which the LORD your God is making with you today" - Deuteronomy 29:11
One aspect to my spiritual life and was instilled into me by my original mentor and many who came after, was to be of service. In the beginning I took the suggestions that being of service meant giving someone a ride if they needed it. Or if someone was struggling it meant to stop and lend an ear. I came to understand that being of service meant being in service to others and to G-D. My experience has shown again and again that being of service was a keystone to spiritual development.
After those first experiences, I began to realize I was being drawn further into the nonprofit sector as a desired occupation. Before I knew it I was working at a nonprofit food bank and volunteering my time at two other nonprofits. Even during my current job search, I find myself unable to get away from wanting to have an extra purpose in going to work each day.
When it comes to the wedding, there not a lot of time when we can be of service to others. After all, this wedding is about us. As I discussed my “food blog post” we need to at least give everyone a good meal. Meatballs and doughnuts is the least we could do. And since making that decision, not everything has been easier, but it did give us a brief moment of calm when it came to planning.
When it comes to my religious practices, we always talk about Jewish “Services” for the holidays and Shabbat. Although we call it a wedding ceremony, couldn’t it also be called a wedding service? But why would we call it a service? It is the whole reason we decided to have a Jewish service in a Catholic Chapel, because it is for G-D. When we join together on that day, those prayers are for us, but also very much for G-D as well. The whole ceremony is joining the three of us in a holy union of love. Sounds like being in service to G-D to me.
Being of service and chopping wood for an underprivledged camp
This blog has focused largely on being spiritually ready for the big day. So if being of service is important, than how was I in service this week? I actually found myself at a working interview at a soup kitchen and food pantry. I do not think there is any higher calling than giving people the basic need of food. Ever since leaving Philadelphia and the food bank there, I missed working in that environment. I missed it so much that even spent part of my time during a business trip in New Orleans at TribeFest, where I met Editor Lindsey Silken, this past year and volunteered at a food bank. It is the most rewarding thing to do with my time and at the end of this, there may even be a chance at an upcoming open position. I actually agreed to have the second working interview this upcoming Tuesday, before I turn 100% of my thoughts over to the wedding.
“Service which is rendered without joy helps neither the servant nor the served. But all other pleasures and possessions pale into nothingness before service which is rendered in a spirit of joy.” – Mahtma Gandhi.
We just celebrated SimchatTorah as a community. The purpose of the holiday is to celebrate the conclusion of one cycle in the Torah and the beginning of another. In the spirit of the holiday, I found myself closing a lot of chapters in life and looking forward to new ones.
Last week, I had the opportunity to visit the East Coast and spend some time with family and friends.
I certainly felt that with that trip, there were some chapters closing. I played in a “Send-Off” roller derby game. The send-off was because it was the end of my bachelor party and my very likely retirement from the sport that brought Lisa and me together. There have been a lot of mixed emotions over the sport and how the last year with my involvement in the sport ended. It was more than one could hope for, to play with some friends, have a good time, and being able to end something that has meant a lot to me for the past five years.
I also look forward to starting life anew. Many people have commented, “There is no difference between the day before and the day after the wedding.” For the moment, I am going to disagree. Although there are some things on paper that change, and yes some of our daily life will remain the same, I think that spiritually this is a new beginning. Without that thought rooted deep in me, this wedding would not mean nearly as much to me. At the end of the day, in front of everyone and G-D, we are beginning our new life together.
One Ending. One Beginning.
I have been talking about being spiritually prepared for the wedding in many of these posts. It is only now with a little bit of time and deeper reflection, I am not where I wanted to be, but I am where I needed to be.
November 21st (just two weeks after my wedding) will mark my fifth year of abstaining from drugs and alcohol. The significance of this is that it will mark precisely two separate lives. My drinking career which lasted roughly about five years (I was a little late to the game) and the one I now live completely sober. And yet, I find myself feeling like I’m back to the beginning.
That trip back East certainly opened me up spiritually. Not because I spent a lot of time with former mentors, although that did help. I just became able to let go of more things that I was holding on to and that were keeping me” blocked off.” I also became very aware that G-D is always working in my life, and that losing my job was a blessing. It also has brought out some deeper feelings as I am scheduling the mikveh. This is all new. A new low led me to a new beginning and a new perspective.
An ending. A beginning. Another beginning.
Life is like the Torah. It never really ends. You celebrate the endings and you rejoice in the new beginnings.