Dwelling in Possibility

In the Wake of Scandal: A Revelation

A number of years ago, early into my professional life but not so early that I was a novice, I had a phone conversation with a powerful man in our community.  He treated me horribly on the phone, talking down to me, almost yelling, and making me feel as though the question I had called him with wasn’t worth the time of day. I got off the phone feeling shaky, diminished and confused about what I had done wrong, because of course, as a younger woman, I was sure I had done something wrong.

As it turns out, he was the one who had done something wrong.  I went to my boss, with whom I had a strong and positive working relationship, but who was not known for being warm and cuddly, and instead of comforting me, as I expected, she marched right back onto the phone and called this man back, berating him for treating me so poorly.  He offered her (not me) a weak apology, and we all moved on.

I was incredibly grateful to my boss for standing up for me when I didn’t know how or even think I could for myself. But clearly, I’ve never forgotten that feeling of being completely struck down in the workplace by a man whose position and attitude seemingly rendered him entitled to treating someone else so insensitively.  This call was a power play, one that I can look back on with anger as we continue to fight battles for women’s role in the world – the work world as well as the everyday world.

I was reminded of this story as I have been grappling with the horrible news here in my community. A prominent Orthodox rabbi in Washington, DC, has been accused of terrible crimes. He has been accused of sneaking tiny cameras into his synagogue’s mikveh – ritual bath, where women and men go for religious and spiritual purification, one of the holiest and most personal moments in a religious life – and spying on his congregants. He apparently also spied on women who came to him for their conversion rituals, and in addition to voyeurism, he took advantage of his position of power and ordered some of them to work as his secretary, and to run errands for him, and even coerced them into making donations.

Thoughts for a New Year

Tonight and tomorrow, Jews around the world will be fasting, praying, and delving deep to understand their deepest selves, their motivations, their innermost desires and their wish to improve and move into a new year with a refreshed sense of personal duty, dedication to community and hope for the future.

It’s a heavy load to lift.

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about how to use this moment in the calendar to take stock and recommit myself to a life well lived. I’ve been worried that I’m too busy, always too busy, to stop and listen, whether it’s to my children, my husband, my colleagues, my friends and family or just myself.

A group of close friends and I had an email conversation before Rosh Hashanah about ways in which to enter the sanctity of the High Holiday season. Read Heschel, said one (and I did.) Take a walk/bike ride/kayak ride and then come to the community and share yourself in prayer, said another (and I did.)

But still I struggle.  This morning, though, in that mundane and often-annoying world of Facebook, I found a lovely inspirational poster.  Usually I hate these things, now that they’ve become hackneyed and ubiquitous. But this one spoke to me.

 

From the Brazilian author Paulo Coehlo:

 

Be present.

Make love.

Make tea.

Avoid small talk.

Embrace conversation.

Buy a plant. Water it.

Make your bed.

Make someone else’s bed.

Have a smart mouth and quick wit.

Run.

Make art.

Create.

Swim in the ocean.

Swim in the rain.

Take chances.

Ask questions.

Make mistakes.

Learn.

Know your worth.

Love fiercely.

Forgive quickly.

Let go of what doesn’t make you happy.

Grow.

 

And there stands my poem/prayer for the new year.  Shana tova.