Sherre Hirsch

Life certainly hit us over the head.

I blog. You read. Great. Except, I have been looking on other people’s blogs and I have noticed something. They blog, people read and then comment. So lately I have been going to check my site to see if there are any comments.

It got me wondering -  is there a problem? Are the blogs not worth commenting? Is no one reading them? Do you not want other people to see your comments? Does the reader know how to use the comment function on the site?

I remember when I was in high school a teacher of mine said if there were no comments or questions it was a bad sign - that he did not make anyone think. But I realized he is wrong.

A few weeks ago I gave a lecture in Las Vegas (a surprisingly wonderful community ) and at the end I asked for questions. Nothing, nada, zilch. I give it another moment. A woman raised her hand and said,  “I don’t have a question, just a comment.”  Oh great, I think to myself  - I am about to get a monologue. Instead she says, “Rabbi Hirsch you have given me a lot to think about. When I get home I may have a question, then can I contact you?”

Her question gave me pause. Not because I am uncomfortable with her contacting me but it made me realize that I may be looking at the this blog thing all wrong.

You may not yet have formulated the question or the comment the minute I post the blog. You may have to think about it for some time and formulate some thoughts or feelings.  So here is my suggestion. If you read the blog and it touches your heart, send your friend to the site and share it with her. If you read the blog and you disagree, tell me. If you read the blog and you have questions or comments, feel free to post them. I would love to hear from you anytime.

Last week as I was preparing for Thanksgiving, I thought about the moment when we all  go around the table and say what we are thankful for.   And even though we do it every year, everyone looks surprised when I ask the question. (Perhaps they hope I’ll forget?). And every year we go around the table and everyone says the same thing - family, health, friends, so by the fourth person people keep saying that the person before them took their answer.

So this year I did it differently.  This year was about the specifics. Thankful for your health, you say…I wanted details.

This year I am thankful to Dr. Benjamin for becoming a specialist in Lasix eye surgery and changing the way I see.

I am thankful to my husband during these very trying past months. I have been distracted and often have neglected him. I am thankful that he is a patient, kind and forgiving husband and that I get to be his wife.

I am thankful for Rachael. She has taught me how to be a better friend. She listens without judgment. She reminds me to laugh when I can’t.

We’ve been getting off too easily with these one word answers so this year we went deeper.  I knew that protests were in the works so I came up with a solution: I had 3×5 cards available for anyone who would rather not say their thanks out loud.  We could gather them up and read them all anonymously.  But we didn’t need them.  Once the group got started  - yes, I had to go first - everyone wanted to talk.  People were glad not to have to say thanks for only the big things.  Yes, we were all grateful for family, but everyone had someone special they wanted to talk about.

I don’t yet know how I’ll add to this next year.  But I do know that after this year’s success no one will protest.

Last week I went kayaking for the very first time. I was not sure what to expect and frankly I was a bit afraid. I was not scared of falling out of the boat, (I know how to swim,) I was fearful of looking stupid. I comforted myself by saying that of course there will be other people and I will not be alone.

I arrive at the meeting place and to my complete horror, only the guide and I are going. To top it off, Louise is 7 months pregnant. In the car on the way to the lake we make small talk and she gives me a few pointers -  but not much to go on.Within a few minutes, I am in the kayak, feet pressed against the sides, flapping my arms from side to side. I look over at my guide, she is trying not to laugh.Feeling tired?  I am, I replied, this is a workout.Maybe you shouldn’t try so hard. Bring your hands down, let the paddle flow through water. Don’t try and guide it, let the boat guide you.I listen to her words and slowly I begin to let go. I was so busy trying to do it perfectly, to make it look good that I looked silly and was exhausted. The minute I stopped trying so hard, I felt agile and calm.About two hours later, we were floating in the center of the lake after making an entire trip around it once. I looked up and the world looked so peaceful. Mental note to self: sometimes less effort is more effective.

In preparation for Passover, I practiced the seder with my 5 year old son. This is the first year that I thought that he would understand that Passover is more than a lot of food and a few songs. We talked about the order of it, the food we would eat and I tried to teach him the part he would be in charge of - the four questions. Since they can be sung, instead of spoken, they were easy for him to learn. I have a terrible voice and sing them off key, he teases me relentlessly, but learned them right away.

During our preparation, I asked him what he thought this holiday meant. He did not hesitate before answering that at Passover we celebrate how the Statue of Liberty gave us freedom. I almost correct him – the Statue of Liberty? But I stopped myself.For Emet, Passover celebrates not just our freedom as Jews but our freedom as Americans to make our own choices as part of democracy. Emet is celebrating that he is Jewish and he is an American. He is celebrating all of his freedoms, because they are inextricably linked.Ok, so he’s 5. Maybe those were not the words he would have used. At five, I think he may understand a lot more than many adults. Passover’s message of freedom is powerful for all the people who are blessed to live in a place where they are free. Freedom is truly a gift. A big one.

Passover is no picnic. Every year I dread preparing for the holiday because there is so much cleaning beforehand. Unlike other Jewish holidays, where I can just prepare the meal, set the table and organize the rituals, Passover is labor intensive. Most years, I start early - mapping out what I am going to clean on each day leading up to the holiday.

But this year, before I knew it, Passover was almost here. I spend all of the Wednesday before the holiday rushing around the house like a crazy person. Boiling pots, cleaning the stove, vacuuming. Usually, by the end I felt a sense of accomplishment. But this year I feel like I have not given it 100%. I feel like I failed Passover 101.

When I got into bed that night I started wonder why I was so obsessed. Preparing for Passover is a chore, but it is not a test. I am not being graded by God Almighty. No one is going to enter my home when I open the door for Elijah and say Sherre Hirsch, you failed; your house is not as clean as I think it should be. No messiah for you.

At the end of the Passover seder, Jews say “next year in Jerusalem.” Our prayer is that next year we will be able to celebrate our freedom in the land of Israel. I am hoping that at the end of seder this year I will say, “next year may I forgive myself for not being perfect.” May I recognize that I did that best I could and that will have to be good enough.

I met Chisley recently. He is from Belize and is living in LA, working as the security guard for the Connie Martinson show. His life is not going as he planned; neither is his daughter’s. They came from Belize years ago and moved to New York. After seven years there, they were both unhappy so they moved to Los Angeles. He is happy here. She is not. He wants more than anything to help her create a life that she loves and thrives in.I hand him a copy of We Plan, God Laughs when I take a break to go to the bathroom. When I walk by again, he hands it back to me and I tell him to keep it, read it and let me know what he thinks. He seems surprised, but I don’t think anything of it.I’m back in the car with my publicist/chauffeur/cheerleader Jason, and I mention Chisley. Jason has been bringing authors to talk to Connie for three years and in all that time, no one has ever stopped to talk to Chilsey. He and Jason have exchanged pleasantries, but never spoken at length.It’s kind of a bummer and I wonder if I sound naïve. Or if I sound like I am trying too hard or pretending. Sometimes in life, it seems like people talk when they need something from one another. What can I get from you? I suppose, I do get something in return from Chilsey. His story. He took a step. He leapt and then did it again. His story inspires and moves me. His story reminded me of why I became a rabbi and a writer. Why we all matter.

No matter how many weddings I officiate, each one continues to be a thrill. You would think after having officiated at more weddings than I could count, dealt with brides, photographers, parents, in laws, grooms, caterers, etc. that as a rabbi I would have had my fill. But last weekend as I am standing under the chuppah (wedding canopy) with another couple, it feels magical again and I feel so lucky to be a part of it.In the Jewish tradition, anyone who is knowledgable in Jewish law can officiate a wedding ceremony. You do not need a rabbi. Even though people think it is my ‘job,’ I feel honored every time a couple asks me to be such an important part of their life. I am blessed to be invited to share in their lives, thoughts, fears, and hopes.This couple already live together, have children together, a house, a dog. In almost every sense they are already married. But when they stand before me, drink the wine, and exchange rings, something changes. It is more than just a contract. When they stand up, in front of their families, friends and God, their spiritual connection deepens. In the moments when they exchange their vows, I can feel their relationship changing.Each and every time I do this it is different. It is also the same. Even though I did it, it still amazes me that every day people find each other, fall in love, decide to spend the rest of their lives together. It’s one of the biggest leaps of faith that we can take. Believing in God, or something bigger than you, can seem easy in comparison. God does not leave the wet towels on the floor every day.

So last week I was invited to speak in front of a room of agents at William Morris. Rarely do I get nervous, but as I enter the room of suits, I feel that twinge in my stomach. In front of me are people that judge talent for a living. Are they going to sit in judgment of me for the next hour? I try not to think about it. After they each introduce themselves and their departments, I remind them that I am not an actress, I am a rabbi, just for good measure.

I begin to teach about the greatest agent of all time. Moses - for he was God’s agent. The room starts to get quieter. When I tell them that God was a difficult client, a few start to laugh. They can relate. Then I get to the heart of the discussion: what was Moses’s true job as an agent. They are listening. Was this is divine mandate from God? Did he work with others? Did he make his people proud? Did he behave ethically, morally? Did he ever lose his temper and yell?

The room grows completely still. Are you the person God envisions you to be? Are you the best agent you could be? When I end there is complete silence and a few wet eyes. They are not thinking about whether I am a good rabbi or speaker. I have made them think about what’s really important - who they are and where they want to be as an agent of God.

It’s been a good day.