Tag: people

Ones I have known, if even tangentially.

Shhhh. It’s “God.”

THE FOLLOWING POST will make me sound either enlightened or nutty, but I don’t care which – and it doesn’t really matter. (As this blog’s tagline goes, “Those Who Know, Chuckle.”)

One of my favorite rabbis/writers, Jay Michaelson, wrote a book some years ago called Everything is God: The Radical Path of Nondual Judaism. R’ Michaelson’s thesis is that “nonduality” – the idea that everything and everyone is a manifestation of the Divine, rather than G?d being somehow separate from or “above” the physical universe – has as significant a place in Judaism as it does in other mystical traditions (e.g., Vedanta, Sufism, Zen Buddhism).

I began reading this remarkable book a few days ago, and before I had gotten twelve pages in I fired off a fanmail to its author thanking him for having “validated every spiritual experience I have ever had” (if you’re curious, here’s the most profound and lasting one). What makes this book so compelling, at least to me, is R’ Michaelson’s style: matter-of-fact without being “woo-woo,” widely educated but without pretension, and warmly relatable without dumbing down.

Above all, R’ Michaelson emphasizes that the nondual experience can’t be fully described – not because description isn’t allowed, but because isn’t possible. (Or, as he puts it: “In the Jewish tradition, secret traditions are not secret because they are rarely disclosed. They are secret because they are experiential, and thus cannot be disclosed at all.”)

Despite that such experiences don’t lend themselves to words, some teachers make doing so look easy. Rabbi Michaelson is one of those teachers, and Everything is God is one of those books.

Speechless in Sonoma

AFTER SERVICES TODAY (one of my students was celebrating their b’mitzvah), I complimented their old grandfather (about my late dad‘s age: north of 85?), on his Ashkenazic (Eastern European) Hebrew accent. We began talking, and at one point he had me stand shoulder-to shoulder with him, each of us facing in the opposite direction.

“In my shul – I must have been 10? 11? – there were these two men who used to stand like this and pray,” he explained.

“Why did they do that?” I asked.

“They were in the camps,” he said. “And they weren’t allowed to talk.”

The thought of two Jews risking their lives in the mist of Hell to pray as Jews, while keeping their eyes open for trouble and torment, suddenly struck me speechless.

“Thank you for telling me that,” I eventually said in a hollow voice. “I will never forget this story.”

I hope you won’t either.

Hearing Aid

A message in today’s congregational newsletter. It’s a Jewish thing, but also universal.

Listening.

It’s one of the most important things people can do for each other. It’s so important, in fact, that our Torah teaches us to speak of it – in the Shema – twice daily.

The Hebrew root of “shema” is shin-mem-ayin. In this week’s Torah portion, Eikev, that root surfaces in its doubled/emphatic form (Deuteronomy 11:13) as part of the Shema’s second paragraph.

The word “shema” is usually translated as “hear” or “listen,” and when it’s doubled it means “really listen.” However, there is no single English word that perfectly captures its multiple shades of meaning – which can also include “understand,” “take seriously,” and “hear in order to act.”

“When you encounter a word in any language that is untranslatable into your own,” Rabbi Jonathan Sacks says, “you are close to the beating pulse of that culture. To understand an untranslatable word, you have to move out of your comfort zone and enter a mindset that is significantly different from yours.”

He goes on to define listening as a deeply spiritual act. It can also be painful, since what we hear may sometimes challenge our own worldview. But it’s through meeting that challenge – listening to others who may not agree with us, who may think and feel differently than we’re used to thinking and feeling – that we can open ourselves to growing and developing in ways that might never have occurred to us.

“Listening is the greatest gift we can give to another human being,” Rabbi Sacks concludes. “To be listened to, to be heard, is to know that someone else takes me seriously […] it changes not only the one who is heard, but the listener as well.”

May we all be strong and brave enough to really listen to each other – and to willingly go wherever that listening takes us.

Double Identity

IN ADDITION TO what else one may find in a wallet (money, DL, &c.), mine contains two cards that license me as a member of the clergy.

They’re neither what you think – I’m not a rabbi, nor will I likely become one in this life – but they do tell a semi-religious story nonetheless.

The first came c. 1999, after a friend who was a member of the Universal Life Church asked me if I too wanted to be ordained. “Sure! What do I need to do?” I asked him. After anointing my head with a frosty cold one (it was a very hot day, in the way that only Northern California Renaissance Pleasure Faire days can be very hot), he declared, “You’re in.” He then told me where to write and receive my free ordination credentials.

ULC espouses a single creed: “Know your beliefs and be true to them.” And because ULC is legally recognized in California (and other enlightened states) for solemnizing weddings, I have since married a handful of friends – which was, really, why I wanted ordainment in the first place.

The other ordination, also legally recognized in some places, belongs to the Church of the SubGenius. Those behind that inexplicable parody religion/religious parody/living art project published a trade paperback in 1983 which – much like science-fiction conventions and DEVO – assured lonely misfits that they too had a place, and a people, they could call their own. Of course, I took to it in a big, enthusiastic way.

Unlike the ULC, the CotS then charged $20 for an ordination kit. So, justifying it as for a good cause, I mailed a Jackson to their Dallas, Texas headquarters. Within a week I received an ordination card, a poster of Church frontman J. R. “Bob” Dobbs, and various pieces of SubG propaganda (some of which I distributed in the summer of 1985 at 2 a.m. in Times Square – but that story is classified.)

For a long time, my ULC and CotS “ministries” helped me feel as though I belonged somewhere spiritually important. I am grateful to be able to do that now in other ways. But I will always be respectfully grateful to the Revs. Kirby Hensley and Ivan Stang for opening their secretly famous doors and inviting me in.

Secret Signposts

HIDDEN SOCIAL NETS surround us everywhere we go, and those who know – know.

Example? Sure!

I was shopping in one of my favorite grocery stores earlier today when the guy behind the butchers’ counter noticed my black Firefly T-shirt.

“Nice shirt!” he said with a wide grin.

“Thank you,” I said, bowing.

Now, he could have added something like, “I’m a Firefly fan too.” Or “I really like that series.” Or even “How long have you been a fan?”

But instead, he indicated the leather bomber-jacket I was wearing (Sonoma mornings are cold these days) and said with a wider grin, “I see you’re a real Browncoat.”

If none of this makes sense to you, allow me to explain. Instead of stating the obvious, my fellow fan responded with another insider’s reference. You see, the shirt in question doesn’t feature the title of the show or anything like that – the only way to “get it” is if you recognize the image and motto: a burnt-umber image of the titular spaceship above the motto, “STAY SHINY.” If you don’t, then no harm done. His comment told me right away that he got it. And his grin told me that he was enjoying our little secret signpost as much as I was.

Connections. Isn’t that what it’s all about?

Put Your Hand on the Radio

A RABBINICAL ASSISTANT, two deacons, and a lay mystic walk into a radio studio.

Seriously.

Welcome to the Sonoma Valley Interfaith Radio Hour, a years-old, live and lively round-robin every Thursday afternoon from 3-4pm Pacific Time on Sonoma Valley’s independent station KSVY (91.3 FM and streaming/archived at ksvy.org). It features one Jew (me), the deacons (Presbyterian and Roman Catholic), and a Christian Science practitioner. (With occasional guesting by my rabbi, by an Irish Catholic priest, and by whoever else we can grab from our local ecumenical Cobb salad.)

Our informal discussions cover broad ground: e.g., different faith traditions’ understandings and manifestations of moral and ethical ideals; life-cycle events such as birth, coming of age, marriage and divorce, and dying/mourning; the multiform flavors of our worship services; observing holidays and holy days; encounters with the Bible and other holy books; and how we ourselves each came to our respective “ministries.” We have deep respect for each other’s religious backgrounds and deep attachments to our own – as our Presbyterian emcee puts it, “We’re all swimming in the same direction” – and are on the air not to convert or proselytize, but to educate, enlighten, and (we hope) edify.

What also makes the show work, I think, is that outside of our collegial collective, the Valley prides itself on a thriving interfaith fellowship; we’re so geographically isolated, it’s to our evolutionary advantage to get along as well as we do. It helps, too, that through our long association we have become quite close – itself a byproduct of sharing intensely real conversations every week. And speaking personally, I find that learning about others’ sacred practices makes me understand and appreciate my own that much more. Tune us in and see if that’s true for you!

Silent Revolution

PROPOSAL: EVERYONE-BE-QUIET DAY.

The Idea: We were fretting about leafblowers disturbing the local birds, and wondering what the world would sound like were all the machines to be turned off for a while…

The Action: On June 1, 2026, between 12:01 a.m. and 11:59 p.m. UTC, everyone in the world turns off all cell phones, computers, televisions, radios, games, leafblowers, lawnmowers, weedwhackers and cars — in short everything that beeps, rings, roars, rattles, or makes a sound louder than a normal human conversation and isn’t essential to maintaining human life. (Sort of like The Day The Earth Stood Still, but voluntary.) Conversation is optional during this period, but it might be fun (and instructive?) to enjoy the silence in silence.

The Method: Get the word out by linking this announcement through Facebook, email, Twitter, texting, DMs, Usenet, phone-pole posting, graffiti, listservs, Bluesky, letters to the editor, and whatever remains of talk radio. (Pretty please.)

Motto: “Shhh.”

The Cook For Any Price: Now With Art!

JUST A QUICK NOTE to announce that, thanks to the talents of locally famous Sonoma artist and musician Jon Shannon Williams, my e-books now have handsome new covers – which (I strongly believe) are reminiscent of The Brothers Hildebrandt (Google same if you weren’t a Lord of the Rings fan in the 1970s). Please check him/them out and bask in the glow!

Moon Shot

THE FOUR ASTRONAUTS who recently swooped around the Moon and back again – Reid Wiseman, Victor Glover, Christina Koch and Jeremy Hansen, may their names live forever – did more than visually explore Earth’s neighboring world from close quarters for the first time in decades.

They injected into this world a burst of hope and vicarious glory sorely needed in this age of cynicism, distrust, chaos and doomcrying.

Think of it. When’s the last time you felt a surge of positivity and pride at human accomplishments? Speaking strictly for myself, it’s been more than one year, three months, and a day or two.

But watching the Artemis mission’s textbook-perfect splashdown and recovery had me shedding at least one tear of grateful joy.

This is what humans can do when we all work together, I thought, dabbing my eyes with a tissue. This is what’s possible.

I don’t know about you, but I needed that.

5 Thoughts: Why Sonoma?

0. WE SONOMANS LIVE in the greatest semi-isolated piece of spacetime findable on this vast and tiny Earth. Here are five reasons why I believe that.

1. Environmental infrastructure: Green hills in winter, golden in summer, wildflowers in the spring, and – partly due to the ubiquitous vineyards – some of the certifiably best autumn foliage that will ever knock out your eyeballs with giddy wonder. (Not to mention Sonoma Plaza, which San Francisco Chronicle columnist Herb Caen once called the most beautiful public square in California.) And all of it available within walking, hiking, or biking distance.

2. Social infrastructure: A friend of mine refers to this place as “the island.” Unlike other Sonoma County population centers, we’re not on any main highways/freeways – so to get here, you have to really want to. And because of that, there’s this fierce community spirit and shared sense that “we’re all we have.” In addition to our many volunteer-built niceties (a feature-rich senior center and independent FM radio station, to name just two), this was most evident during the October 2017 wildfires, where folk used their skills and resources to help their neighbors (and house and feed the many first responders who helped save us from a fiery fate).

3. Quality of life: Taking into account the countless farms, restaurants, museums, music and food venues, newspapers, artists and artisans, festivals, markets, parks, charities and benevolent societies, sister-cities, youth programs, tree-lined streets, classic cars, cottage industries, and 1930s-era moviehouse, there’s a reason we call it “Slownoma.”

4. The people: With Sonoma’s estimated population of less than than 11,000, one person really can still make a difference. And they make for great neighbors! (Mostly.) In any case, there’re a lot of friendly folks round these parts, and due to having lived here since 1998, a lot of familiar ones as well. You can’t buy that kind of connection.

5. Reality check: Oh, we’re not perfect: we have our occasional (and sometimes bad) crimes, a high cost of living and housing, our share of homelessness and hopelessness, and crushing poverty side-by-side with privileged opulence, just like many other American communities. But we also have more nonprofits per capita than many other American communities, meaning an unbelievable proliferation of goodhearted and competent people working to change or at least ameliorate our problems. Sometimes that may seem a Sisyphean task – but then, Sisyphus couldn’t muster so many cheerful and enthusiastic helpers.

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