Archives for 2005

Yom Kippur

For years I conceptualized Yom Kippur in a fairly traditional way. It was the day on which I went to the synagogue and prayed as honestly, as reverently, and as fervently as I could to be granted another year—a year in which I would become a better person and avoid all of the negative actions that I had either knowingly or unknowingly performed in the previous years of my life.

But this year is different. This year I lived through an illness that had me thinking that I might just be meeting my maker sooner than planned. Once healthy, I went off to adventures in China. And then, last week, Rosh Hashana, I once again became ill. This time, it was much less serious, but this time I was unable to attend services the second day of Rosh Hashana. The meaning for me was clear: I was not welcome at services. I had too much to account for. I needed to take a very long, hard look at myself.

Since then, I have been thinking about the way I treat people in a much more conscious, self-conscious way. And then yesterday… We were in Jerusalem to run some errands. I walked into one of my favorite stores. The tape or CD playing in the store was one that was presumably humorous, but the first song that I noticed made me cringe: “dead puppies aren’t much fun” or something like that. As I listened, I couldn’t imagine why anyone would think that joking about dead dogs would be funny. The next song, “they’re coming to take me away” was worse. It made fun of human beings in pain. After only a few bars, I quickly left the store. I had to leave. All I could make of the experience was that the songs were injuring my soul. How could I allow my soul, which I strive to purify in anticipation of the holiest day of the year, be polluted by such crass and callous satire?

When I got out of the store, it was as if I could finally breathe again. I felt as if I had rescued a child from a fire. I had brought my soul away from something that would injure it and make it less sensitive and caring and perfect before G-d.

I thought a lot about that yesterday and today. And today I will approach Yom Kippur with a new commitment to those things which are good and kind and benevolent and ennobling. I have a new appreciation of the fragility of the soul and our need to protect it. Today I will pray to be worthy of increasing goodness in the world and truly becoming a servant of G-d.

Sunday in the Temple of Heaven

We awoke Sunday to another glorious day. After breakfast, we boarded our buses and drove through Beijing to the Temple of Heaven. The Chinese have many beliefs about what is fortuitous and some of them have to do with placement of buildings. The Temple of Heaven, to which the emperor would travel, was in a direct line six kilometers south of the Forbidden City where he resided. He would go to the Temple of Heaven every winter solstice to worship heaven and to solemnly pray for a good harvest. Since his rule was legitimized by a mandate from heaven, a bad harvest could be interpreted as his fall from heaven’s favor and threaten the stability of his reign. So, the emperor fervently prayed for a very good crop. When the emperor traveled to the Temple of Heaven to offer his prayers, citizens were not permitted to watch. Were they unlucky enough to be caught along the path when he was making his way, they had to lie prone and avoid looking up for the entire duration of his journey.

We arrived expecting to see buildings, but in fact, the most interesting sights at the Temple of Heaven were the people we saw. Each day hundreds of Chinese people, mostly over the age of sixty, come to exercise. They were doing Tai Chi individually, or in groups with fans or swords. They were playing hacky-sack. They danced, sometimes ballroom-type dancing. But the most amazing sight was the area that was most like a children’s playground. Instead of equipment geared for children were all sorts of devices designed for adults to chin, to do sit-ups, to climb, and to stretch. There were paths with rounded stones embedded in them over which they walked in thin-soled slipper-type shoes. One older woman held a pole behind her neck that stretched over her shoulders. She gently raised both of her legs and placed them behind the pole, effectively bending herself in half. Ouch! It hurt me to watch, but not enough to keep me from taking pictures.

As we walked through the gardens and structures, we heard beautiful music, either being played on instruments live in the garden or from mechanical devices people had brought with them. The people seemed very happy and content. It seemed such a wonderful way to start a day, out in nature with friends, doing healthy exercise. I asked what they do in winter and our Chinese guide told me that they are there in winter as well.

At the edge of the park there was a store that sold fresh-water pearls. We saw a demonstration where a man took an oyster and opened it up to show us the pearls inside. He had a charming sales pitch, but not charming enough to convince me to buy something that I didn’t need.

Outside we met some Malaysian women and they were so attractively adorned that I asked to take their picture. They then took mine!

When we got back onto the bus and headed straight to the airport for a flight to Xian (Shi-Yan). Xian was the capital of thirteen Chinese dynasties and is its only walled city whose walls have survived until today.

There we saw the Bell Tower and the Drum Tower. We took a walk through the Muslim Quarter and saw a Muslim Temple that is said to resemble quite closely the synagogue that used to exist in Kaifeng. It was of traditional Chinese architecture in that it consisted to entrances and gardens one after the other. It was very tranquil and very beautiful.

We then visited the Big Wild Goose Pagoda which is a Buddhist temple. You can read about it at http://www.travelchinaguide.com/attraction/shaanxi/xian/bigwildgoose.htm

Back at the hotel, we had dinner and when we left the dining room, we saw some very lovely young women in long purple taffeta gowns with nametags and little purses. We didn’t know if they were to be in a show or if they were at some sort of conference or what. One said something about dancing. I took a picture and one looked at me and motioned not to take pictures. Later I learned that these women dance with visiting gentlemen.

We then left the hotel and went to the Tang Dynasty Show which consisted of beautiful music and dancing. The costumes were exquisite. It was a feast for the senses. A tired crew, we returned to the hotel to catch a few hours of sleep before the next day’s adventures.

A Very Narrow Bridge

Last week my husband and I and a couple we are friendly with went for a hike in the Negev Desert. We had asked someone knowledgeable to recommend a trail. The person saw that we were not exactly teenagers and that in addition to us, our friends’ son and daughter-in-law and their three young children were present.

We set off into the desert passing a number of camels, climbing in our cars to the top of an overlook to the Great Machtesh (crater), and then continued on to the eucalyptus parking area that was beside the colored sands—sands that were naturally colored from the minerals in them.

Our friends’ son and wife decided not to come on the hike, but their having a car of their own enabled us to leave our own car at the finish of the hike.

We started along the trail. At first it was a gradual rise along a path that was quite beautiful. We passed some exquisitely colored sand formations and the rocks formed patterns in the sunlight. Soon the path turned upward and we climbed along the rocks. Then we saw a wall in front of us and a trail marking pointing up. We found metal handholds and scaled that wall and came to the top—or so we thought, but we found out that at the top of the mountain, the trail led to the top of another mountain and at the top of that mountain, there was yet another. The path became steeper and steeper. Finally, we reached the top. The view was magnificent.

We were walking in the heat of the day. We had sufficient water and food, but the heat and the very persistent flies made it less than pleasant. However, having gotten to the mountaintop, we hoped that the second part of the hike would be easier.

It wasn’t. The way down was along a path that ranged between 8 and 20 inches, was covered with dry pebbles, so there was not a decent foothold, and had only pointy rocks to hold onto. The mountain was called “the Big Fin” but I refer to it as “Stegosaurus Mountain.” My husband and one of our friends chose to propel themselves down the mountain in a sitting position, however I was wearing a skirt and there was no way that would work, so I watched every step (as did they) and continued on. We had noticed at the beginning of the climb that there was no cell phone reception and so I had shut off my cell phone thinking that I didn’t want to use up the battery in case we would need it later. My husband worried that if I fell, he would have no access to the cell phone! We began talking about the fact that the only rescue would be via helicopter. There was no way to carry a person down the mountain. I never worried about dying, but the thought of serious injury did enter my mind when I slipped and heard the pebbles continuing to fall down to the desert floor. But we continued, mainly because there was nothing else that we could do.

When we finally got to the bottom of the steepest descent, we rested and then the rest of the descent seemed easy. Just as we were feeling confident once again, we noticed that there was a railroad track directly in front of us that was at the top of a very steep rise. Only a few minutes later did we discover that there was a pedestrian tunnel underneath. That was the good news. The bad news is that it was built for pygmies. The tunnel was probably five feet high, but after the descent, I literally ran through it bent in half.

When finally we reached the parking lot where the car was located, I believe I rhapsodized about my car in a completely insane manner. But by then I was totally spent.

We stopped in the next town to buy cold drinks.

When finally I caught my breath, I realized that this whole adventure was very much like life. You start out happy and confident. Things are beautiful and easy. You experience some difficulty, but it’s still lovely. And then you get to a point where it gets hard, very hard, and just when you think it can’t get any harder, it does. Then it gets harder yet. You can stop and look around and then you decide you need to go on. You walk along the path, danger on either side. You can be with friends and they are there to share the experience with you. They provide support and protection and comfort, but the journey is still rough. Sometimes the up-hills are the hardest, and sometimes when it seems that things should be easy, that is when they are the most difficult. But when the hard times are over, you feel relieved, grateful, and maybe even proud that you hung in there and made it through.

Throughout the descent, I kept thinking of something that Rav Nachman of Bratslav said: “The whole world is a very narrow bridge and the main thing is not to be at all afraid.”

Healing in China

It has taken me some time to begin to process our trip to China. One of the women on the trip said that for her, the trip was a vacation from a very stressful and hectic life which had been particularly difficult over the past summer. She thought that the trip would renew her.

I immediately understood what she was saying, for although my life was less stressed than hers, for me too the common annoyances of life were for this brief moment being replaced with new places and new people and new experiences beyond our imaginations.

My difficult summer had begun with becoming ill almost exactly when my sister arrived to visit me for two weeks. The relatively benign virus affected me so strongly that I was not able to function for weeks. My doctor had informed me that I would take months to recover. We wondered whether I would be able to go on the trip, but my lab values began to improve and I was determined to go.

When we got to the Great Wall on the first full day in China, there was a climb of what turned out to be 1200 uneven steps. Since this was likely to be my only time at the Great Wall, I made a decision to climb it. Something about that climb amid the beauty of the countryside, the bright colors of the tourists’ clothing, the optimism of people having a good time, the wonder of being in an exotic setting, gave me the energy and determination to go on and I did it! I accomplished my goal. But from that day on, I no longer felt weak or sick. Without noticing it, I had recovered my strength faster than I would have predicted.

It was not that long afterwards that we had our first walk in a Chinese garden. They are places of enormous delight. They are verdant with flowing water and rough hewn rocks and are filled with sounds of flute and other Chinese instruments. They are a place of quiet and contemplation. As we experienced these gardens and temples and as we made our way on quiet rivers and lakes, I felt a sense of peace and well-being. In the exquisite Stone Forest, I was overwhelmed with the beauty of nature in a misty rain. As we cruised along the Li River, the beauty was breathtaking. Our hotel in Guilin was along the side of a lake that provided calm and beauty to a bustling city as people walked along its paths and crossed its bridges and walkways.

Among 1.3 billion people, there was peace and solitude and well-being. There were oases of calm and quiet. And there was beauty.

Our trip was not only an adventure, but a healing experience.

Saturday in the Forbidden City

On Saturday morning, after services, kiddush, and breakfast, we set out for the Forbidden City. With such an ominous name, it was a place that I was a bit reluctant to visit. We walked about two long blocks and arrived beside Tiananmen Square, the site of Mao’s Mausoleum and adjacent to the Great Hall of the People. We proceeded down a flight of steps and into a pedestrian tunnel so that we could cross the very wide street that separates Tiananmen Square from the Forbidden City.

We were not alone. Thousands of people converged on the Forbidden City, home of Emperors of China in the Ming and Qing dynasties. The area it occupies is vast and it is representative of the style of formal Chinese buildings with a formal entrance (in this case consisting of three doors, each of which had its unique use), a courtyard (or garden) and then another building behind which was another courtyard or garden and then another and another. Each change required stepping up and down as the buildings were several steps above ground level and with each doorway of each building having a board vertically set perhaps 12 inches high that one had to step over to enter. These boards at entrances were standard throughout all of the temples and old formal buildings that we visited.

We heard several explanations for the board. We heard that it will stop enemies from charging in. They have to stop in order to step over and this literally unbalances them. We heard that the bowed stature that climbing over something inevitably engenders is a forced sign of respect. We heard that they kept the building free of mice and we heard that in places where it floods, it kept the water out. Someone even suggested that it kept the chickens that were kept inside from escaping! After a while we came to expect them and I started to think it might be an idea that would slow down the grandchildren….

The imperial palace, consisting of a rumored 9,999 buildings ( a number I find somewhat exaggerated) is quite a complex. There is a wonderful online tour at http://www.chinavista.com/beijing/gugong/map.html

One of the items pointed out to us by our tour guides was a huge pot which had been put there for holding water. In early times, they were essential since there was no natural water source on the grounds. There were a large number of these huge pots. Many were coated in gold. When the Japanese invaded, they literally scraped the gold from the pots and we could see the remnants of the gold among the scratchings.

The vastness of the area and the style of the structures were nothing like what I had imagined. We listened with interest to the beliefs about what the emperor needed to do to ensure the well-being of the country. We heard about the symbolism of the colors that were used in the building and decorating.

It was a hot sunny day, but everyone remained interested in learning as much as we could, and when we returned to the hotel, we had plenty to talk about.

That evening we went to the Beijing Opera. Of course it was not at all what we expected. It was, instead, a performance put on in a very small auditorium that seated our group and no others. Two men enacted to music an encounter between good and evil that included a great deal of movement and dance with them using knives to threaten and slash at each other. The movement was graceful and the timing was superb. It was unlike anything I had ever seen before.

Some of the pictures I took in China are now available for viewing at:

http://share.shutterfly.com/action/welcome?sid=9AYs2rJi2cvhA

Friday in Beijing

My husband and I joined friends who were taking a 17 day tour of China with Shai Bar Ilan who runs tours to China and other locations for Jewish people who observe the dietary laws and the Sabbath. In general, a Jew who is ritually observant has to be very careful in planning a trip to a place where there is no established Jewish community, so Shai had solved those problems. There was a minyan of men, kosher food, and we did no traveling on the Sabbath. Instead, we spent late Sabbath mornings and early afternoons on walks that enabled us to see sights that were close to the hotel. He even arranged for us to be able to have a drink of cold water on our way.

Our tour was to have begun on Wednesday afternoon, August 31 with a flight to Istanbul from where we were to fly to Beijing, arriving in the afternoon. Our flight to Beijing, however, was delayed by 12 hours and so were we! We flew to Istanbul and stayed the few hours we had at a hotel near the airport. Since we arrived after dark and left before it got light in the morning, we didn’t actually see anything in Istanbul.

The flight on Turkish Airlines was pleasant and we arrived in Beijing safely.

Although I knew China was a big country, I was surprised to see how big and modern the airports were. Unlike experiences in Israel and New York and Dallas and Oklahoma City, the baggage arrived quickly and within about 15 minutes, we had gathered our belongings and were moving along.

By the time we arrived at our hotel, it was dark. The rooms were clean and attractive. Shai had prepared a “snack” for us which turned out to be a full meal. With a bit more area to move around in, we began to become acquainted with the other people who had come along on the trip.

Although most of the group consisted of Israelis, we had three women from Canada and one from New York join us. In addition, at least one of the Israelis who was formerly from the US had difficulty with Hebrew, and so we were divided into two groups: Hebrew and English. The Hebrew group was larger and filled their bus. We were a group of about 23 and so we were usually very comfortable in ours. Although we were excited, we were also very tired, having missed most of a night’s sleep in Istanbul, so we all went to our rooms and slept.

In the morning, we ate and then piled into the buses for our first outing. As we drove through the enormous city of Beijing, it was hard to believe how urban and modern it looked. We arrived at the cloisonné factory and watched the women who worked to create the beautiful objects by hand. There are no shortcuts and no assembly line. Every work they produce is handmade with intricate designs and brilliantly colored enamels. A showroom the size of a US department store displayed items large and small including vases and jewelry and bells and cups and just about every object one could imagine.

After the factory, we traveled to the Great Wall (or, as one of the Israelis sometimes said, “the Big Wall”). We were surprised by the height of it, the width, and the fact that in this area, one climbed it. The wall has a long long flight of steps—perhaps ending where it ends, but being that it is 4163 miles long, we settled for climbing only part of it. The steps were not easy to climb. They were not of uniform height and some were the equivalent height of two to three steps. I was breathing really hard by the time we got to the landmark we were aiming for. We were told that the area we traversed contained 1200 steps. Of course, once up, the next task was going down. The weather was beautiful and the views were magnificent and everyone was in a mood of elation, and so it was all a big adventure.

We were taken next for reflexology treatments at an institute for Chinese medicine. There they grow medicinal plants, and the reflexology students worked their art on us. Two doctors came to check us all. They claimed to be able to tell our state of health by feeling our pulses in both our left and right wrists. Since everyone had ailments that they had the cure for and since all of the cures were only going to require a one month supply of their rather expensive formulas, we imagined that our diagnoses were all essentially the same: fat wallet.

After the rest and relaxation, we went to the Summer Palace, a magnificent estate with many buildings and a huge lake. The buildings were all traditional Chinese buildings and the lake was large enough that there were boats to traverse it. We saw gigantic lotus plants growing in the water. We walked along the Long Corridor which was painted with hundreds of pictures on its beams and its ceiling. It is simply a covered walkway. The Long Corridor is 795 yards long and parallels the lake. To have an estate so large and so green and so pastoral in a city whose metropolitan area houses thirty million people is nothing less than amazing to me.

Late that afternoon, we took a walk to Tian’anmen Square, but in a move reminiscent (at least to me) of my impressions of the square with the tank headed for the young student, police prevented our proceeding to the square citing the need to clean the area for a ceremony that was to take place the next morning. A number of police marched toward us accompanied by a police car that headed straight for us, albeit slowly. I couldn’t help wishing that someone would take a picture of my standing there with my hands held up.

We walked back to the hotel to get ready for the Sabbath.

I’m back

No, I am not sick and I am not being held hostage…I returned on Friday from a two week trip to China. There is so much to tell that it is hard to know where to start.

China is a country with a far greater land mass than the US and with a population of 1.3+ billion people. So why is it that I had heard of about two Chinese cities before my trip: Beijing and Shanghai? It would be like someone thinking that the US consisted of New York and Los Angeles. As we traveled from city to city, we were told that the Beijing area has a population of 30 million people and that Shanghai has a population of 17 million. Small cities had “only” 3 or 4 or 7 million people.

We knew about the Great Wall, but were unaware of other cultural and historical treasures that China has. We knew little of the culture and folklore. The language was a mystery to us.

During our trip we took five internal flights in China on at least 4 different airlines. We were impressed with the modernity and efficiency of Chinese airports, airlines, and hotels.

We saw Buddhist and Taoist temples, beautifully landscaped parks and gardens, and people who enjoyed life. We learned how they made fabrics, processed silk, did fine embroidery, and hand-manufactured cloisonné items.

We saw a country running into modernity with its sleeves flapping. We saw modern multi-layered roadways, tens of skyscrapers, and vast urban development. We learned about their one-child policy and how it has become a huge social experiment.

The trip to China was a kaleidoscope of colors, sounds, and action. I hope to share some of it with you in the days to come.

Boundaries 8– Parenting adult children

When finally we get to the part of our lives when our children become adults, new boundary issues surface.

If all along we have been recognizing that our child was developing his or her abilities to make healthy decisions, then this period is not as difficult. If we had been thinking of the child as still needing our input in order to function optimally, then this period can be very hard.

Once a child is earning his/her own living, marries, and has his/her own children, the parents’ role should have changed radically. Parents then become older colleagues—people who share their experience with their children. Discussions should be real dialogues and not monologues. Parents should not call their children too often (more than once a day) unless there is a good reason. When the children even hint that they need to get off the phone, the parents should politely say, “have a good day/evening” and hang up. Calling hours should be at times of the day when people are expected to answer the telephone. Too early in the morning or too late at night can make the parents’ call an annoyance rather than a pleasant experience. As a rule, parents shouldn’t “drop in” on their children without first calling to see if it’s a good time. Parents need to realize that their adult children do have their own lives.

One of the hardest aspects of being the parent of adult children is watching your children raising their children differently than you did. It is difficult NOT to intervene. After all, if your children turned out well, you believe that you know a lot more about raising children than your child and his/her spouse do.

This was a dilemma for me. As I watched each of my children interact with their own children, I had plenty to say, but I kept silent. As I watch the grandchildren of four families grow up with four different styles of parenting, I become more and more convinced that there are many ways to raise good children.

Here are some exceptions to the rules:

If you see violence, I believe you need to stop it in the best way you can. With clients, I frequently tell them that violence (hitting, pinching, pushing, kicking, spanking, beating) simply doesn’t work. I explain to them that what it teaches the child is that people who are stronger can control people who are weaker by force. That three year old will someday be sixteen and stronger than his mother and father. Is that the message you really want to give?

If you see emotional abuse, I believe you need to stop it. Emotional abuse consists of (but is not limited to) treating the child in a way that devalues the child. Name-calling (cry-baby, terror, troublemaker, “Miss Pris”) is a sure sign that the child is being thought of in a derogatory manner. When parents label children as bad instead of shaping their behaviors, they are emotionally abusing them. When parents make fun of children or threaten them or make them feel guilty for no reason (“it’s because of you that I have stretch marks; I used to look really good”) that is emotional abuse. Parents usually will deny that it’s abuse. They will tell you that the child knows they are joking, but children don’t process this as humor. One father I had in my office used to tell his child that if he did something that the father didn’t approve of, he would “break his arm.” The father said that the child understood he didn’t really mean it. When I asked the four year old what it meant when Daddy said he would break his arm, the child said he thought that meant that his father was going to remove his arm—in the way that a doll’s arm comes off. The child said that it made him scared. Parents need to be sensitized to the fact that children are very literal and they don’t understand exaggeration, metaphor, or sarcasm until age five or six at the earliest. They also need to know that children internalize names they are called. They make these names part of them and they believe what their parents say about them. The “terror” will felt that wreaking havoc is his role in life. Labeling makes positive change hard.

In the event that you are seeing abuse, discussion with your own child should not be in the grandchild’s presence since you should not undermine the parents’ authority. Respect is the key word here… respect of the grandparent for the parents and respect of the parents for their children. All help should be given with love and understanding. Often young parents are just trying to do the best they can and learning alternative methods of managing the child’s behavior can help both the parents and the children.

What is Moving

Moving is what one does to get from place to place, position to position. Moving is what successful people do to get ahead. That’s how they become one of the “movers and shakers.”

Moving is what a family is involved in when they go on vacation—when they discover new places and have all sorts of adventures.

Moving is what a family does when they are vacating one home and taking up residence in another.

Moving implies purposeful action, forward momentum, active involvement.

In Israel, there has been a lot moving lately.

Politicians have been moving all over the airwaves. Police and Army personnel have been moving south to Gaza and north to Samaria. People who are against the disengagement have been moving to demonstrations in Netivot, Kfar Maimon, Sderot, Jerusalem, and Tel Aviv,. Reporters and photographers from all over the world have been moving in an effort to catch the action.

People who have lived on sand dunes (never before inhabited ) and have built their lives and their communities for twenty or thirty years, having been urged to settle there by successive Israeli governments were moving—by force, out of their homes to an unknown future.

But moving is also the word that describes the most powerful memory of these days– the eyes of the uprooted children whose faith in the goodness of humanity was crushed.

To my grandmother

If we were able to chart a person’s development, I believe it would be possible to pinpoint certain incidents and people who had a profound effect on the person that no one would have guessed. We commonly believe that the most important influences in a person’s life are parents, to some extent teachers, and then finally, friends.

As I think about what made me who I am today, I think that two of the most important influences were my grandmothers. I have already written a bit about my mother’s mother—about lighting Sabbath candles with her and feeling warm and cozy. She was someone who loved me unconditionally. I have not yet written about my father’s mother, a woman who also loved me unconditionally. She was a very interesting woman, a talented woman, and I think she was a “closet” family therapist.

My father’s mother, Yetta Mager, came to the US from Russia. She married and raised five children, three girls and two boys. My father was her second child and the older of her two sons. I was the oldest of her grandchildren. She was a seamstress who worked in what later was termed a “sweatshop.” She was talented and her job was to sew the top fronts of ladies’ dresses, a job reserved for only the best of seamstresses. I remember visiting her at work once. It was probably the noise of the sewing machines that contributed to her hearing loss.

There are a lot of wonderful memories I have of my grandmother— her open welcoming arms, her happiness at seeing us, and the “vasser-milich” (hot water with milk and sugar) she made me. I remember her beautiful colored dairy dishes and I remember the Chanuka menorah as it was lit. I remember the big Passover seder she prepared each year and can still picture the whole family gathered around her dining room table.

I remember being amused and impressed when she told me that she and my grandfather were going to take English lessons. To me she was an old woman—to think of her learning was incongruous, but I admired her for making the effort.

I remember two really important things she used to say. As I little girl, I liked when she tickled me. Of course, I also needed her to stop when I was giggling too hard. I would be laughing and laughing and saying, “Stop it!” and she would stop, but always while saying, “Stop it; I like it!” It was the first time I ever heard of a concept that I would learn was a mixed message. I came to learn that people get confused about what they want, what feels good and what feels bad, and when too much is too much.

The second thing she told me was in response to my complaining about someone being “mad” at me. She said, “He’s mad; so he’ll get glad.” It was my introduction to the lability of human emotions. I had never thought before about the fact that someone who is angry could at some time in the future be not angry. I came to understand that emotions are temporary and that a relationship can heal.

She was a woman who had a wonderful natural wisdom. Had she lived in a different time, she would have been able to achieve great things in academia. Instead, she was an inspiration for me and a warm, loving presence in my life, an anchor in the stormy sea. She would have been proud of my achievements.

My grandmother was blessed with living long enough to get to know four of my children. I believe that her greatest pride would be in her grandchildren, great-grandchildren and the great-greats who already are engaged in the study of torah and the work of improving the world.