Mirror, Mirror

                                  

 

Video for 'Evil Twin' by Modeselektor feat. Otto von Schirach

My worst fear is coming face to face with an evil version of myself.  It would be me, but a me that has decided to use his powers for evil, not good.  Have you ever had this thought?  Facing an evil version of yourself?  For me, it's someone who is completely selfish, haughty, indulgent, and mean.  Very mean.  I have had dreams where this has happened.  The person looks and talks like me, walks and has the same mannerisms.  However, because it's me, I also know my weaknesses and would  prey upon them like a wolf to a flock of sheep.  I have always known that, if I so chose, I could turn my green/blue beam to red/orange.  My blunt insults and astute observations could make people melt on the spot.  I could manipulate people to cower and fear me.

Interestingly, looking up the idea of 'evil twin' in google, leads me, of course to Wikipedia.  We all know that there is a lot of imagery of evil twin within literature, movies, comic books, and television shows (cartoons and sci-fi namely).  Interestingly, the evil twin idea comes out of Zoroastrianism.  There are twins Ahura Mazda (good) whose roots are related to 'wisdom' and 'femininity'.  Then, Angra Mainyu (evil) whose roots align with the concepts of 'destruction' and 'mind/spirit'.  Obviously, the idea of creation and destruction are central to most, if not all, of the world's religions.  It is seen time and time again in both the old and new testaments of the Bible.  However, what fascinates me about the Zoroastrian concept is that good and evil are twins.  It opens the possibility that we each have an evil doppelganger in existence.  The show 'Fringe' definitely explores this concept.

However, even though it is fascinating, I never want to meet my alternate, evil self.  In turn, I also have feared turning into an evil version of myself as this is not a self I ever cared to explore.  So, sometimes I also think about the possibility of going back in time and what I'd do/say to prevent this nightmare from happening.  Though it didn't happen, it very easily could have.   It nearly did.  For many years I was in a very dark place, fighting my own demons.   In some parallel universe, an evil version of myself exists.  However, what if a time machine existed?   What would I change?  What advice would I give to a younger version of myself to especially make sure I ended up using my powers for good?

I've been thinking a lot lately about what I would do if I could go back in time and meet myself, say 10 years ago or 20 years ago.  What would I say to a 21 year old version of myself?  An 11 year old version?

Maybe I'd say to ignore all the bullshit.  Just tell people how you feel, exactly.  Tell the kids that bully you that one day, they'll be unhappy and bald and/or fat.  Tell your best teachers how they'll inspire you to become an educator.  Tell your worst ones how you'll use them as an example to your students of what's laughable and pathetic.  I would spend more time with my sister, getting to know who she really is.  I would look around at all my friends and look deep inside of them to hold the real ones close and fake out everyone else.  I would explain to my parents what their manipulation and psychological abuse would result in.  I would have told myself not to give up or give in.  To keep on being true to yourself and not let others define you.

I think I wrote a letter to a future self in middle school but I don't remember what I did with said letter.  I probably told myself to keep writing, as my 5th/6th grade English teacher told me to never stop writing.  She said that my stories showed promise and I had a great imagination and creativity.  I still remember this!  However, I probably told myself that I wasn't popular and that I should try to be liked by everyone.  I've always had trouble with people not liking me, as I've always found myself to have a magnetic personality.  Funny, charming, but a little too real perhaps.  I've always vied for acceptance even if it means being friends with people who aren't really a 'friend'.  I should have told myself not to sacrifice my principles or who I was just for acceptance.  What else would I say? 

I know that if I wrote a letter to my past self that I could send back through time, I would tell myself to explore art more.  Take more art classes in high school.  Get more involved in music and theater.  Branch out and listen to music other than angry, angst ridden fuck off music.  I would tell my past self to go out for sports, maybe track or soccer.  I would talk about being okay with being alone sometimes rather than being surrounded by dozens of people who only hang out with you because you offer something.  Or, maybe I would have written an inspirational speech about how I am destined for amazing things and not to listen to naysayers because they are all jealous and insecure.

I think about this a lot.  And it makes me think about how I've changed but also what has remained the same.  I know my core being has always remained the same.  I have always loved literature and words, playing with language.  I read at an early age and though my writing came a little late, I have always enjoyed books and being verbal.  My verbal skills have always far outweighed my math skills.  Though, now I know I'm not bad at math.  I was never given the proper encouragement and perhaps with a more progressive teaching method with math, I would have excelled in the subject.  Or, if I would have somehow prevented my father from ever tutoring me in math and causing all of the psychological damage that ensued.  I cannot change the past, though.

What has happened, has already transpired.  I'm not sure I'd actually want to go back in time and change things because everything: the good, the bad, the ugly has happened for a reason.  There was a lesson in every tear and giggle, every heartache and moment of joy.  The positive and negative in my life has made me who I am now, and I like who I am now.  I'm confident and sure of myself.  Despite setbacks and pitfalls, I have triumphed.  My story could have gone a zillion different ways but I consider myself a fighter, a vanquisher of everything negative in my life.

I still have moments of doubt and insecurity but instead of throwing a pity party,  I make myself make a list of changes I should make.  I like making lists.  They make me feel like I've accomplished something.  You know, checking off that little box with an x.  Then when the list has x's in every box, I move on to another list.  I know what things I need to work on and what I want to achieve.  Personal success is very important to me, and I always have set very high goals.  Actually, somewhat unrealistic goals.  For every project I ever worked on for school, my teacher would always say, "Why did you pick the hardest topic again?"  I guess I just like laying out a challenge for myself.  Why take the easy way out?  Sometimes the triumph is not in the answer but in the path you took to get there.

I know that despite a lot of shit that I've had to deal with, I am a very positive person.  I still hold myself to high standards because I believe that I will do something important.  I've always had that feeling of not being quite like the other kids.  Almost like I was dropped from another decade or planet.  In fact, I was always convinced that a whole species exist of beings like myself on a planet that we had not yet discovered.  That I had dropped to earth like Superman or was an alien being yet to be found like in episodes of Star Trek.  My values never matched up with my peers, exactly.  I try to view others as humans, and I judge them by their characteristics.  I'm a pretty good judge of character, too.  Usually my first impressions are pretty dead on.  A huge leap if you ask me, since I used to judge people by what they wore.  I would never talk to someone who was 'too preppy' or 'too good looking' when I was younger.  I didn't trust people like that.  I only trusted the weirdos, misfits, and pariahs.  I guess that's why people who are mentally imbalanced feel a kindred relationship with me (I discuss this in another post: Blotter Test).

I'm proud of how far I've come, though.  I'm also thinking of what I could say to my future self, however.  What would I say to a 45 year old version of myself?  75?

It would go something like this:

  Dear me,

Don't give up.  You will achieve greatness.  But, remember that for some it happens at the most unexpected moment.  You cannot force it.  You cannot will it to happen tomorrow.  You have a path that is enlightened by a greater power, and all you can do is ask to keep on this divine path of yours.  You are real, an individual.  You are eccentric, artistic, and beautiful.  Do not forget it.  And don't get frustrated if you fall down a few times.  Your goals are lofty, and your head is often in the clouds.  Earth can be a cold, dark place.  Just remember to shine your light around and keep climbing the path until you've reached the top of the mountain.  I love you.

  Sincerely,

~R~

"Mirror in the sky, what is love?   Can the child within my heart rise above?  Can I sail through the changing ocean tides?  Can I handle the seasons of my life?  Well, I've been afraid of changing because I've built my life around you.  Time makes you bolder, even children get older.  And I'm getting older too."
    -Smashing Pumpkins (1994)- originally written by Stevie Nicks of Fleetwood Mac (1975)

                                             'Landslide' by Smashing Pumpkins (a fan video)

                                    I loved the symbolism which matches up with the song's message on life!
      

                                              Stevie Nicks's 'Landslide' (from 1997)

                                        

ISHAH

נשות הכותל (Neshot Hakotel)- Women of the Wall

This is a movement that began in 1988.  It started on December 1,1988, when a group of seventy multi-denominational women met to pray (daven) at the Kotel (Western Wall) in Jerusalem.  They brought a Sefer Torah with them, as there were not ANY Torahs available in the women's section.  Because it is considered by more religious/traditional Jews that women should not carry or read from the Torah especially at such a place as the Western Wall, there was immediate backlash.  Men from the other side of the mechitzah (wall separating men and women) cursed, yelled, and threatened the women (which to note is not Torah behavior).

However at that time, the Kotel administrator, Rabbi Yehuda Gertz, allowed the service to continue and said that the women were not violated any part of Halakhah (Jewish law).  For the last twenty years, these women have fought to be able to read Torah, wear prayer shawls and even tefillin (prayer boxes usually worn by men) at the Western Wall.  They have been gaining notoriety especially in the States and other Western countries.  There is even a half hour film about the topic, which the clip above is taken from called 'Praying in Her Own Voice'.  I recommend seeing the whole movie. 

For those unfamiliar with why women cannot pray at the Western Wall with a Torah, you need some background.  Within some sects of Judaism, it is not believed to be permissible for women to touch/carry/study Torah.  They also have to sit separately from men and cannot receive aliyot (mitzvah where one is called up to bless the Torah).   This  would mostly be within the Orthodox and Chassidic (ultra-Orthodox) camps.  Reform, Reconstructionist, Conservative Judaism generally allow women to read from the Torah openly and accept aliyot.  Within those sects, women can also sit together with men and go up on the bimah (alter) with men as well.  Again, the belief on women and their place and practice differs depending on the degree of religiosity and the sect of Judaism that you speak with.

However, from my standpoint, a woman who wants to daven, especially at a place like the Kotel should be able to do so while carrying a Torah and wearing a tallit (prayer shawl) or tefillin (prayer boxes).  I ask the question, why would a woman want to pray there in the first place?  To serve Hashem (G-d) of course.  So, to deepen a woman's prayer and her connection to Hashem, wouldn't having a Torah make sense?  It's not like these women are going to the Kotel naked or they are doing something overtly blasphemous like cussing and playing loud death metal.  These women are going to the Kotel to pray, to be Jews.  That's all.  Nothing taboo or mysterious. So, by blocking them from praying and expressing their devotion to G-d, one is sinning, right?  Isn't it a sin, within Judaism to prevent a person from praying and showing devotion to the Almighty?  I'd say so. 

Futheremore, there is NO specific stipulation in the Torah or traditional rabbinic sources saying that women cannot carry/read from the Torah or wear a tallis/tefillin.  In fact, the daughter of Rashi (A Jewish Biblical philosopher/scholar) apparently used to wear tefillin while she prayed.  This is similar to how there is no specific stipulation that women (or even men) should cover their hair, or at least wear a wig.  There is a part in the Torah a woman, who is accused of adultery, called a 'Sotah' has her hair 'uncovered' by the priest (rabbis weren't in fashion yet).  It isn't quite known whether the passage from Numbers is meant to be directly interpreted or not.  In fact, the Mishnah (Torah commentary)  says that a woman's hair covering has more to do with the laws of the Jewish community, as it was grounds for divorce, rather than dating back to Moses and being an actual 'sin'.  The whole idea of women's modesty (clothes and behavior) has to do with 'tzinut' (humility/modesty) which is why the signs in the ultra-Orthodox neighborhoods in Israel ask women not to wear 'immodest' clothes (pictured below).  One could also say that just because something isn't in the Torah, doesn't mean it isn't followed or practiced.  Take for instance, take the laws of kashrut (kosher).  It says in the Torah that a kid should not be boiled in its mother's milk.



*Women and Head Covering

So, Jews who observe the laws of kashrut, or who keep kosher, do not eat milk with meat.  This goes further to mean that milk and meat shouldn't be on the same table at the same meal and that separate plates and silverware are to be used for each.  The Torah doesn't specify the degree of practice, and one could even say that chicken is not included int he stipulation of being separate from dairy.  However, Jews keep count chicken as meat.  Jewish law and text cannot be taken in a vacuum but there are also many instances where fences are created around fences, meaning laws are extended beyond how they were probably originally meant to be followed. 

I am not trying to say throw out all the rules of Judaism.  I respect and love the Torah and the laws/rules of my religion.  However, Israel is in a major hot spot right now.  It is surrounded by contentious neighbors like Egypt, Jordan, Iraq, Iran, Lebanon, and Syria.  Hamas and Hezbolah want Israel to be demolished and don't give a rat's tail what happens to the Jews.  So, do we need even more animosity and fighting amongst our very own people?

I mean, again, as a Feminist I speak, but women should be allowed to wear tallit and tefillin.  In fact, supposedly it was my cousin, a rabbi in Minnesota who started the women's tallit movement, or at least was a big hand in getting it off the ground.  I also think women should be able to read from the Torah as well as study it.  I'm all for the opening of more women's yeshivas, and dare I say it, co-ed yeshivas like the wonderfully beautiful Pardes (that I attended) in Talpiyot, Jersusalem.  Now, what I'm not saying is to tear down the mechitzah and have women and men sit together.  Just because I daven egale (men and women together) these days doesn't mean everyone does.  Synagogues and individuals should do what they are comfortable doing as long as it follows the laws of Judaism.  I mean, if I'm invited to a Reform synagogue and the general congregation doesn't say wear tallit or conduct service in mostly English, it doesn't mean I won't attend.  I'd want to welcome other Jews into my house as I'd be expected to be invited into theirs (be it actual house or house of G-d, synagogue).  However, this is not the sentiment of the religious right!

I am disgusted by the behavior and actions of the religious right, who have a major stranglehold on Israeli politics right now.  Women aren't even allowed to accept secular studies awards because it is 'too immodest'.  I, however, am going to say something very controversial right now.  The pigheaded men who lead the religious right movement and those who follow the very extremist line of thinking walk a dangerous line.  Many of them do not respect the state of Israel or recognize the government as an institution.  Many of the religious right families are also using the welfare system in Israel, as they have lots of children and usually only the women work while the men study.  So, they have to use the social services available.  Some would call them 'leaches', though I wouldn't go that far because I still recognize and welcome them as fellow Jews.  My question is to them, why is a person living in a country that you don't formally recognize, while also reaping the benefits of its social services yet tearing it apart?  It hurts my hear and makes me sick to think about it. 

Many of my Israeli friends have thought about leaving and there is a large exodus, especially amongst younger Israelis to leave the country because of the difficulty that the religious right is causing.  They want everyone to 'be Jewish' like them which means black suits and hats with the women in long skirts and wigs.  This is despite the fact that the beliefs held by the Charedi (right wing) Jews are cultural and have little basis off of Jewish law.  However, what they need to realize and appreciate is that Judaism has a multitude of different beliefs, practices, sects, races, ethnicities and dare I say it, sexualities.  That's what makes Judaism so beautiful, in my eyes.  But many folks of the religious right want to erase the rainbow, the keshet, of Judaism.

I would go as far as to say that the religious right who are against the Women of the Wall don't even respect women.  They revile women and fear them.  They are scared misogynists who want to keep women quiet and subdued.  And the only reason their women don't fight back is because they're brainwashed to accept their lifestyle as the ONLY way.  And I say this as a proud Jewish feminist who thinks women should be treated and respected like the women in the Torah.  What would our matriarchs, prophets, and other notable women of the Bible- Sarah, Rebecca, Rachel, Leah, Ruth, Esther, Deborah, Miriam and Judith- say?  These women were strong and fierce fighters for the Jewish faith.  These women would be disgusted and outraged that such a travesty in Israel is taking place right by their very tombs. 

Plus the fact that it is women who are the carriers of Jewish tradition.  The religion was patrilineal in the Biblical ages but changed to matrilineal religion.  The women teach the children about Jewish laws and customs while keeping the Jewish home (also keeping the idea of maintaining a 'kosher' home).  The ideas of having a 'kosher' home are imbedded within the laws of 'niddah' (female cleanliness)  and 'taharath hamishpach' (family purity).  Women are at the forefront of this.  So, why, if women are so important, are they so shunned and kept waiting in the wings?  I'm not saying we should undo Jewish law, but why can't women be allowed to daven WITH a Torah at the holiest of Jewish sites?  WHY??  Because a few men find it offensive?  Because they don't respect women enough to give their own a voice?

What's even more disgusting is the thought that many of these religious right individuals act with violence and aggression to keep their so -called version of the Torah.  So they end up being total hypocrites because the behavior they show when they spit, cuss, and use violence toward women or other Jews is definitely definitely forbidden in the Torah.  No questions asked.  Their behavior shuns Jews and converts away from the religion.  Is that Torah living?  To drive people away from being closer to G-d and Torah?  Are these members of the religious right acting within G-d's sense of light and truth?  When you spend so much time creating fences around fences around fences, you forget the bigger picture.  

Plus, the other thing is that we, Jews and Israel, have enemies who want to see Israel blasted into the ocean.  Why do we have to be fighting amongst ourselves.  The messiah will NEVER come at this rate, with the Jewish people being so divided.  The Torah DOES say that.  It also mentions how being divisive and tearing the Jewish people apart is WORSE than idol worship.  The nation of Israel's unity and the idea of AM YISRAEL CHAI (people of Israel living and being whole) is very important.

WE HAVE TO BE ONE PEOPLE!!!  We have no one else.  We have been smitten throughout history and many cultures and people have tried to wipe the Jews out.  Coming on the heals of Hanukkah, and thinking about the strength of the Maccabees and the miracle of the lamp burning for eight night, we should consider another miracle, the one that has Jews living through major times of strife and evil.  The fact that Jews are still here and that we have a nation to call our own, is the biggest miracle of all.  What better way to celebrate that than to come together and elevate one another to being not only better Jews, but better people as well.  Though this is my view both as a rabid Feminist and Zionist. 

My hope for the future is that the Women of the Wall are allowed to daven there freely and are not met with the ferocity of animosity that they've experienced.  I hope that Israel will become a place where Jews of many shades and beliefs are not met with discrimination and disgust.  None of us, as Jews, or as people are perfect.  We should be trying to encourage each other to live and breathe Torah and the customs/laws of Judaism.  We should elevate one another upward rather than holding each other back.  A Jew is a Jew is a Jew.  Nu?

I will leave you with a song, 'Henay Matov', Psalm 133:

'Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for bretheren to dwell together in unity'

Jewishly yours,

  ~R~




LINKS:

~ Women of the Wall site

~NY Times article on Women of the Wall

Zombie Jesus

I have to prelude the following short story that I wrote by explaining what gave me the inspiration to write it in the first place. Right now, our society is caught in a zombie obsession. There is even a renaming of Easter as Zombie Jesus Day. There are websites and t-shirts/stickers for such an occasion. I think the phenomenon may have arisen (ha) from South Park. Zombie Jesus Day site

However, I've had the idea to write the following story for awhile. For about four or five years I have had this story stuck inside of my head. It started by having the image of the church service with a zombified Jesus entering and eating the churchgoers inside. Gory, yes. However, the point was to also make a social-political commentary about America's growing obsession with religious fanaticism. Jews, Muslims, and Christians alike are being bitten by the bug of extremist religious doctrine.

Personally, I feel that when any society becomes entrapped by the dogma of extremism, of any kind, that we become doomed. So, since Easter just passed and we are now in the middle of Passover, I felt the need to finally write down the following tale. I hope you enjoy it. And, please either write constructive feedback in the comment section or e-mail me personally and tell me what you think. This is obviously an early draft (it's the second incarnation of the story), and I will continue to make changes. Thanks. Enjoy!
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

‘Rise’

((this is my original writing and any attempt to copy or replicate needs my express written consent))

Mary always loved Easter; it was her favorite holiday, next to Christmas that is. Though Mary preferred her holidays less commercialized, more religiously authentic. Yes, Easter has chocolate bunnies and Peeps, but people generally act more pious around Easter than Christmas (at least in her opinion, anyway). Easter was definitely Mary’s true favorite. So today, being Easter, she jumped out of bed and willingly threw on her church clothes. She put on a floral print dress with a doily collar and a pair of white stockings. She got out her black leather saddle shoes and put pink ribbons in her braided, dish blonde hair. Her golden cross lay peacefully on her collarbone.

Then she got out the most important item of all, her very own leather bound King James Bible. She hugged the bible to her chest. This was her Nana Ernestine’s present to her before she died. It was Mary’s most prized possession. At thirteen, Mary wasn’t like other girls her age. For starters, Mary’s mother still made her dress like a six year old. Mary obeyed because she did not like to fight. She was the peacemaker in the family. Mary also preferred the clothes her mother picked out to the tarty outfits that other girls her age were wearing. Mary was glad that her family still had meals together, had board game night, and didn’t use swear words. Aside from her brother, Chris, everyone of her family members were devout Catholics.

Speaking of her loving family, everyone in the house was still sleeping at this point. So Mary took in the calm, quiet atmosphere while it lasted. Soon, everyone would be rustling and getting ready; the shuffle getting to church services would be intense. The services began promptly at 9 a.m. Mary’s parents always made it a point to be at church on time. Therefore, the few minutes of peace and quiet would soon be shattered. Mary had just enough time to soak this moment in, as if time itself were frozen.

Mary liked Easter for this very reason. She cherished the stillness of Easter morning. Now that spring was in the air, you could literally just sit listening to the birds chirp all morning long. Mary looked out her window; no one in the neighborhood was awake yet either. Cars were still parked in driveways up and down the street. Multi-colored plastic Easter eggs still hid behind bushes and in-between flower beds. Bunnies rustled to and fro in backyards while the morning dew slowly evaporated off of each blade of grass. Mary wanted to imbibe the feeling of newfound spring and Easter by taking in the peacefulness out of doors; there, she would get the full effect.

Mary crept out of the house, letting the door quietly shut behind her. She walked down the street, looking at daffodils and tulips growing in her neighbors’ gardens. Each bulb peeped out of the soil as if this truly were the first day of spring. Mary looked inside her next door neighbor’s window and saw silhouettes of people getting dressed for church, putting on suits and dresses, silk ties and expensive hats. The air had the smell of linen and fresh cut grass. Mary smiled to herself. She crouched down to the ground to smell a yellow daffodil.
However, as Mary got back up to a standing position, she noticed something strange, at the end of her street. It appeared to be a person lying down in the middle of the street. As this individual came into view, she noticed that the person was a man. This man definitely was not moving. She had to see if he was dead or alive, if he was alright or if he needed help. Mary, however, couldn’t shake the feeling that something seemed out of place. She ran over to see about helping the man on the ground.

Something told Mary not to get any closer; this man was dangerous. She knew deep down inside, though, that he was probably harmless. Then, Mary began to change her mind as his appearance suddenly came into focus. He was bleeding on his neck like he had cut himself shaving (as he were using a chainsaw). In fact, his whole shirt front was covered in blood; the shirt was white so the crimson of the blood was hard to ignore. Then Mary noticed that the man was missing his right hand up to the wrist. The man had bone exposed on his left knee. There was flesh hanging loosely from his thigh as if he had just been hit by a passing car. Mary had no idea what to do. This man definitely needed an ambulance. Then suddenly, she saw the man’s face; it was covered in maggots and worms. Mary felt like vomiting. The sight was like something out of a horror movie (the type of movie Mary had no reference from). Mary screamed and cried for help, but nobody was around to hear her. Just then the man’s arm grabbed her and pulled her by the hair. At that moment, everything went black.

Just then, Mary heard an alarm bell sounding far off into the distance. Mary’s vision went all blurry and she saw a flash of light. Mary was in her bed again, and her clothes were resting, folded on her chair. Mary had been sleeping, dreaming in fact, and was having a terrible nightmare when, thank goodness, the alarm her mother set the night before, woke her up.

Mary was glad to hear shuffling downstairs and down the hall. Her parents and brothers were all getting ready for services at St. Aloysius Catholic Holy Christ Eucharist Church. Even though there were 9 am morning services as well as noon services, the Waltons always went to the early Easter church service because it was considered good manners to be in church bright an early on Easter Sunday. Any other Sunday, and the Waltons would be okay with a later service but not today. Today was Easter Sunday; and the only people more excited than Mary about going to church were her parents.

The Walton’s house had crosses in every single room (even the bathroom). Mrs. Walton always said that evil could be especially devious when one was alone and vulnerable in the ‘lavatory’. Mrs. Walton didn’t say ‘toilet’ or ‘crapper’; even such words as these were vulgar and common. The television had cable television access but the majority of channels were blocked. The only shows one could watch were of an educational or religious nature (or both). Mary always wondered why her parents paid for so many channels to only watch six of them. Mr. Walton always explained that many of Sunday’s sermons were no longer available on local access, as many of the channels had gotten rid of them to make room for cartoons and teen drama series.

Mary got dressed (for real this time), put on her golden cross, and opened the door of her bedroom to see her two brothers, Chris and Teddy fighting over a baseball card.

“Hey lame brain, get off of me. You’re going to ruin my suit!”, Teddy yelled.

“You’re such a spaz! Now, give me back my Derek Jeter autograph rookie baseball card. NOW”, Chris yelled back.

“Fine. Here. I was just looking at it. No reason to start pounding on me”, Teddy replied.

Even though Teddy was ten, five years younger than Chris, he always acted more mature about things. Mary, being the middle child, was very careful to observe the behavior of everyone around her. She didn’t like when any feathers were ruffled, and was the type of thirteen year old who felt that everything and everyone had its place. This rough housing on Easter morning, however, just would not do!

“Stop it, both of you”, Mary commanded. She often liked to play mother between Chris and Teddy, especially when her parents were preoccupied, which was often.

“What are you going to do about it, fart face? Don’t give me another lame Bible quote. The only reason I’m going to church today is so I can get my Easter basket and hopefully twenty bucks from Aunt Amelia. Church is so boring, especially on Easter”, Chris confessed.

“That is so immature. I can’t believe you. I think the Easter service is the most beautiful and harmonious of the year. It’s even better than the Christmas service”, Mary replied.

“At least at Christmas I can get through the long service by thinking about all of my presents under the tree. If we got presents on Easter, then maybe I’d be a little more excited about going to church”, Chris retorted.

“I can’t believe you. At least act like you care. I bet if Anna Rose were singing in the choir, you’d be a little more motivated about church”, Mary exclaimed.

“Wait. Anna Rose is going to be singing at St. Aloysius today? Oh man, I might get more into the service than I thought. I just hope there’s not too much standing if you know what I mean”, Chris joked.

Mary snickered, “Uch. You’re so crude. Can’t you behave like a Walton for once?

Teddy chimed in, “Yea, Mary’s right. Don’t be such a butthead on Easter! Right Mary?”

Mary agreed, “Right. Today is the day Christ returned from the dead to atone for our sins. What if Jesus Christ himself came back today?”

“Don’t give me that bullshit, Mary. We all know it’s a made-up story. It’s a hoax!”, Chris guffawed.

“Ha, that’s twenty-five cents for the cuss jar. By the way, it is not a hoax. Jesus died for your sins and today commemorates the miracle of Christ rising from his grave”, Mary retorted.

“Yea right. Okay, if Jesus came back from the dead, then he had to have been a freakin’ zombie. And if Jesus comes back today, then you better run for your life, Mary. Run, Mary. Run, Mary”, Chris laughed while jogging in place.

All of a sudden Mary remembered her horrible dream. The man lying on the ground, the blood all down his shirt, the wound in his neck. The worms and the maggots on his face. Mary ran into the bathroom feeling like she would retch. She could still hear Chris cackling outside the bathroom door and Teddy’s footsteps running downstairs and yelling for his parents.

The car ride over to St. Aloysius Catholic Holy Christ Eucharist Church was a quiet one. Mary stared out the window, still a little sick to her stomach at remembering her dream. Chris was reading a Christian comic book while Teddy texted on his Android phone, a gift from Christmas. Mary’s parents had the radio tuned to a Christian station and were listening intently to the sermon for Easter Sunday.

As their red Toyota pulled into the church parking lot, Mary noticed that most of the spaces were filled. It seemed like the Walton family picked the very last open spot, or at least one of the last. The parking lot had about 85 spots all in all, and on a typical Sunday, only about 30 of those spots were full. Only ten of them were usually set aside for church clergy and volunteers, so really only twenty of the spots were filled with regular church goers on a typical Sunday (people who weren’t forced to be there). The Waltons were one family out of six that were at church every single week.

The Waltons all got out of the car one at a time. Mary had to grab Teddy’s comic book away from him and had to nearly carry him out of the middle back car seat. Chris sat on the hood of the car laughing and texting.

“You guys, let’s go. We don’t want to be late”, Mary chided.

Teddy didn’t move. Chris shuffled his feet and kicked at the pavement. Mary finally started walking toward her parents, not wanting to be late. Teddy followed her. When Chris finally realized he’d look ridiculous texting alone in a church parking lot, he followed too.

The church was packed, even for an Easter Sunday. It was like the priest was giving away brand new televisions or sports cars. The rising humidity and abundance of body heat made things feel wilted. The air had a stiff, damp quality like stepping inside of a tomb.

Father Charlie was giving the sermon today. He was a short, stout man, mostly bald with patches of graying black hair and a funny push broom moustache that made Father Charlie look like a Muppet. Father Charlie was very animated during his sermons. People liked to watch his hand gestures and the way he articulated certain words like ‘fathuh’ or ‘smaht’. He was from Boston originally, so all of his ‘r’ sounds sounded like ‘ah’ with no ‘r’ sound audible.

Mary sat with her parents and two brothers toward the end of a pew right in the middle of the sanctuary, next to an antechamber door, the room where the choir rehearsed. Mary was at the end of the row, which she preferred because she got more elbow room and was closer to the collection plate when it passed by. Mary loved to pass all of the change and crisp bills toward the collection plate; it made her feel prestigious. That and she could also get up noiselessly to use the restroom rather than holding it or disturbing other parishioners.

The service was beginning. Teddy somehow got a hold of his comic book and Chris was beginning to dose off to sleep. The organ started playing ‘Easter Flourish’ and everyone stood up. Mary had to poke Chris to stand, as he was already half asleep. However, at noticing Anna Rose singing in the choir, he rose to new life as if being woken from a winter slumber. Chris stared at her strawberry blonde wavy shoulder length tresses and bright aquamarine eyes. If it weren’t for Chris’s strict views on dating, he would ask Anna Rose out on a date in a heartbeat. He brushed off his shirt and fixed pieces of hair into place. Chris popped in a breath mint and even began singing along to hymns he would usually role his eyes at.

The service was beautiful. The choir sounded heavenly. The whole congregation was passionately singing and becoming moved by the service, most of all, Mary. Mary was on the verge of tears. She clasped her golden cross, but for some reason she began to think of the terrible nightmare she had the night before. As the organ began to play ‘Alleluia, Christ is Risen’. All of a sudden the two wooden church doors opened and the blinding sunlight hid the figure, in the doorway, from view. Somehow everyone already knew who this ‘stranger’ was, though.

Everyone turned, as no one came this late to Easter Sunday service, not at St. Aloysius Catholic Holy Christ Eucharist Church. Mary looked too. She couldn’t tell if the figure was a man or a woman, but it looked like someone she knew very well. It seemed that everyone was having the same internal thought process at once. Everyone else noticed the similarity too, as they all stared with mouths agape and hands clutched to their bosoms. Some ‘hallelujahs’ were screamed out along with ‘praise the lord’ and ‘save us, oh lord’. It seemed that what Mary warned her brother Chris about had really come true. Jesus had finally come back; Christ had risen.

Mary noticed a devout parishioner, Mrs. Clark, get up out of her seat and run squealing down the aisle to the figure. She bent down beneath his robes and started to kiss this man’s sandaled foot. Mrs. Clark didn’t notice the figure’s hands reaching out to touch her hair. All of a sudden the familiar bearded face looked like it was going to speak to Mrs. Clark, give her a revelation from God himself.

Instead, however, the figure grabbed Mrs. Clark by the hair and started biting into her face. Mrs. Clark looked up one last time with flesh hanging from the side of her face, blood everywhere. She fell to the ground with a thump. Blood soaked the linoleum floor beneath Mrs. Clark’s lifeless body. It was like a Transubstantiation ceremony gone wrong.

Instead of mayhem breaking just then, however, other parishioners rushed to take the place of Mrs. Clark. One by one, devout members of St. Aloysius Catholic Holy Christ Eucharist Church lined up to take this perverse and irregular variant of communion. Anna Rose ran down the aisle in her white robe and knelt down by the figure who was still standing near the doorway. She crossed her chest and looked up, closing her eyes in silent prayer. As she bowed her head in devout reverie, however, the figure placed his hands on her head in suggestion of a shaman healer. Anna Rose looked up Chris’s direction, and at that moment their eyes locked. Chris noticed, however, that Anna Rose was no longer the saintly image of purity and virgin sanctity. She was foaming at the mouth and making animalistic, guttural grunting noises like a wounded animal. At that moment, all hell began to break loose.

People began running to and fro; they looked confused and upset. All of a sudden everyone was screaming and jumping over pews. Father Charlie, himself, walked down the aisle to talk to the figure. It looked like he would reason with this stranger, though still keeping his distance. Just as he approached the look-a-like Jesus, a hand grabbed his leg from below. It was Mrs. Clark; she wasn’t dead. She bit into Father Charlie’s ankle. As blood gushed out from his foot, he fell to the ground screaming in unholy agony.

Everyone was really scared now. They were trying to duck into aisles and vestibules, hiding behind saints and relics. The only door open was the antechamber door right next to Mary’s family. Mary looked over and saw her own father eating the earlobe off of my mother. Her two brothers looked like they were fighting again, but when she got a closer look, Teddy was gnawing on Chris’s jugular vein. It was really happening. All Mary could hear was her brother’s proclamation in her head, “And if Jesus comes back today, then you better run for your life, Mary. Run, Mary. Run, Mary.” She could barely think of what to do next. She had to get away from the ensuing chaos. She had to leave her now screaming, half-eaten family behind. Mary had no choice. ‘Run, Mary. Run, Mary.’ She opened the choir room door, and she locked it behind her. ‘Run, Mary.’ She was shaking and sweat had soaked through the front of her dress. ‘Run. Run. Run, Mary.’ She wasn’t prepared for this moment.

Mary barricaded the door with any furniture she could find: chairs, tables, bookshelves, music stands. She looked for an exit, any exit. There were four small windows at the top of the wooden wall opposite her. She had no choice but to try one of them. All of them were locked, all but one that someone had left open to allow a breeze to come in through. Thank goodness for menopausal old women.

Mary heard rustling on the other side of the door; screams were muffled with moans and unearthly, beastly grovels. Mary pushed a desk under the open window. She climbed on top, but the window wasn’t open wide enough to let her through. She was a tad too short to reach the latch. She needed something to pull on the latch to force the window ledge open more. She looked around the room and noticed the fixtures, she placed against the door, would soon break. She had to think fast. ‘Run, Mary. Run.’ Suddenly, she clutched the gold cross around her neck and snapped the chain free. She hooked the necklace around the latch and pulled the window down. It was now open wide enough that she could easily and safely climb through it.

As Mary ran away from the church, she realized that her religion had indeed saved her life. Mary reflected how funny it was that once this relic was used to ask for forgiveness and sanctification from the very same figure who almost ate her brains. The cross had saved her life, a lucky chance. Only this one time. Perhaps the only time. This particular time, she was saved by a cross. But how many other times would her religion be able to save her? She knew that the same couldn’t be said for the rest of the parishioners and church goers who all became reborn, infected with Jesus’ revelation.

Yes, Mary knew that from this day forward, only her growing disdain for religion could save her from the spreading poison, the plague of proselytizers who would stop at nothing until every living creature was ‘converted’ and ‘saved’. The irony: she was now saved while everyone else was damned.

What had God given her? A pair of long legs and an ability to think fast on her feet. This is all she would need from now on. This and an arsenal of heavy artillery.

Yes, next time would be different. She would have more than a golden cross to save her from Jesus’ undead army. She would have more than faith and a Bible. Mary Walton would have stamina and an AK-47 to boot. That’s the only kind of faith she needed now. This, the one and only faith that would truly save her.



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Thank you for reading. Of course, my intention was not to offend. I hope you found the story intriguing. I will continue writing short stories like this one and hopefully, I will post most of them in my blog posts.

Beware of zombies,

~R~

That's SO Jewish!

I LOVE being Jewish. Really, I do. I love the culture, religion, and I am totally in love with Israel. On a Jewish scale of 1 to 10, I'm an 11 when it comes to saying loud and proud 'I'm a Jew'. I love bagels and lox, Purim and Sukkot, kugel and latkes. I love putting spicy mustard and hot pastrami on rye bread. I don't mix meat and milk. I DO NOT eat treif (ie. shellfish, pork, gelatin). I go to schul most Saturdays (weather permitting). I make sure to attend synagogue services on every holiday. I have teffilin and tzit-tzit. However, on the religion scale, I'm either 'too Jewish' or 'not Jewish enough' (depending on who you ask). I'm 'Conservadox' (somewhere inbetween Orthodox and Conservative). I don't really buy into the whole labels within Judaism, though. I'm Jewish, and I live my life the best way I can according to what the Torah teaches; I do believe, by the way, that the Torah is a living, breathing organism.

However, the point is that I believe a Jew is a Jew. We are all 'Hashem's chosen people, right?' Some of my friends have issues with the whole 'chosen' thing because it means that other religions aren't 'chosen' and that we're 'right'. However, I also believe that every religion is right to be wrong (or vise versa). A wise friend of mine once said that 'there are many ways/paths up to the mountain top, but when you reach the top, it's the same view for everyone'. I don't believe in proselytizing or telling others how to follow their religion. I only know that Judaism is true for me (though I do enjoy talking about religion, especially mine with others). I follow what I believe to be G-d's light, the plan as it lays out for myself. I try to be the best human being I can be every day, realizing that I am not perfect; I make mistakes. We all do. So, I take issue with religious fanatics who feel they can 'do no wrong' and live above the rest of us on a pedestal.

This whole religious fanaticism and extremism that has become a trend scares me. Muslims, Jews, and Christians have been swept up in the fervor. The way they practice their religion is within a very specific context, and it is seen as the 'Right' way and 'Only' way to do it (notice I put right and only in caps; it was purposeful). Even within religions, there is dissension and squabbling. Take Judaism, for example (since that's the theme of this post already.) Within Judaism, you have: Reform, Reconstructionist, Conservative, Orthodox. I need to explain that Orthodoxy, in American terms, is 'reactionary'. It is a kind of counter-Enlightenment that was a backlash against assimilationism and secularization of American Jews. Orthodox literally means, 'strict' or 'traditionalist' views (in this case it denotes the Torah). So, there is very little bending for very traditional Jews; the Torah is followed word for word. Orthodoxy, even breaks down even further into: Modern Orthodox and Hasidic (in Hasidim there is Lubavitch, Satmar, Bobov, Breslev etc..the list goes on). Note, by the way, that A Bobov Hasidic Jew does not agree with how a Satmar practices (and vise versa).

I won't try to explain all the nuances about Hasidic Jews. Instead, I will encourage you to do some research:

Basic Definition of Hasidim
PBS info on Hasidic Jews
info on Orthodoxy and Hasidim

Also, a good source for outsiders to Judaism is Oprah's visit/look inside the Orthodox/Hasidic world of Judaism:
Oprah and Hasidic Jews

Look, I'm not trying to blast my own religion here. I love being Jewish, and I LOVE JEWS (even the ones who hate Israel and tell me I'm not a real Jew). My view is that we (Jews) have enough enemies in the world to be fighting like this. I get the whole view that one's way of practicing seems more 'authentic' than another. However, I feel that we should be elevating each other, as Jews, to gravitate a more holistic and fulfilled way of practice (whatever that means to each of us), rather than pointing fingers and saying 'you're not Jewish enough.' All the attitude does is create schisms between Jews and prevents us from doing what the Torah tells us is a golden mitzvah, staying together as ONE people.

It literally hurts my heart that Jews fight so much. I mean, I'm not going to yell at a Jewish friend for eating bacon. I used to eat it too, until I decided to not eat it anymore. And that was a personal choice; I was on a personal journey (and still am) to be more spiritual and feed my Jewish soul, so to speak. I wouldn't tell someone who doesn't keep kosher that they are wrong or bad. That isn't my job as a Jew, as a human being. G-d is the only judge; I really believe that. So who am I to tell someone else that they can't eat a cheeseburger and then have ice cream? We all make personal choices, and we're all on our own personal spiritual journeys. We should help one another to do our best as Jews, as humans.

I know this sounds a little wishy-washy, but I really do believe that Jews have a chance to come together. This stranglehold on Israeli culture/politics and soon American Judaism by the religious right will not last forever. One day I hope that some of my fellow Jews realize that just because a woman doesn't wear a sheitel (wig) or a man wear a black hat that those people are STILL Jewish. In fact, I will stick my neck out there and say that it is very ironic that the Jews who point fingers at other Jews saying they desecrate Torah from not observing Shabbat or adhering to all mitzvot and Jewish law that they, in fact, are also desecrating Torah. The Torah forbids Jews to admonish, embarrass, or judge other Jews.

Not only that, but in the act of making another Jew feel bad and isolating him/her, you are separating that person from Judaism (which is a no-no when it comes to the Torah). I know what people of the religious right would say. They would say that non-observant Jews bring it on themselves, and that if they were to be invited in that a whole exalted way of living would be in jeopardy. However, the Jewish religion is already in jeopardy, in my eyes. All of this internal fighting gives excuses for anti-Semites to lash out against Jews.

I just wish that more Hasidic sects would practice more like the Lubovitch Jews, who believe that every Jew has a fire within ready to be lit. They invite Jews from all aspects of life into their folds and teach them about the laws and practice of Judaism. I have actually been told before that I have some a little Chabad mixed with Chovevei Torah, Carlebach, and Tzvat; basically a new age crunchy musical/artsy hippie kind of Jew who is into practice but doesn't get too carried away.

Below is a clip that explains my point of view pretty well. It was made by Andrew Lustig, a Jew living in Jerusalem (who I believe is studying at Pardes where I also studied):

"I Am Jewish" You Tube video

I want to explain, though, why I am writing a whole post about being proud of my Jewishness. Well, last night I attended a Jewish book panel entitled: 'The New Yiderati: Redefining the Jewish Experience in Literature'. The authors on the panel were Sharon Pomerantz (Rich Boy), Michelle Haimoff (These Days Are Ours), Jeff Oliver (Failure to Thrive), Joanna Smith Rakoff (A Fortunate Age), and Adam Wilson (Flatscreen). Many interesting ideas/questions came up. There was a discussion about how a Jewish writer feels a burden to represent the entire Jewish religion. If done wrong, one has the possibility of misrepresenting the religion and angering many. This happened to Sharon Pomerantz, as she related a story being in Harrisburg and being yelled at by a woman who didn't think her book had 'enough Jewish values'. If you have read about Deborah Feldman and her book Unorthodox, you would know that she has received death threats (from her OWN family).

Further reading on the Housing Works' Jewish author event:
Prosen People Blog

There is now a boom in contemporary Jewish literature. On the panel, it was discussed how the writers of Jewish literature used to be Chaim Potok, Philip Roth, Elie Wiesel (whose name didn't come up but I'm adding it), and Saul Bellow. For women, it was Gertrud Kolar, Cynthia Ozick, or Grace Pailey for a long while. Now, however, there is suddenly a plethora of Jewish female voices as well as Orthodox/Hasidic views. Both Shalom Auslander and Deborah Feldman grew up within the walls of Hasidic Judaism and now write about it. The panel brought it up, and I agree, that amongst Jews, we have a fascination and fetish for Orthodoxy. For some, it's the draw of its mystery and seclusion. For others, they find the laws and structure fascinating. I would add that, among non-Jews, there is too a fetish/obsession with Judaism that always teeters the line between bigotry and hatred.

So, Jewish writers risk hitting a nerve with both the Jewish and 'goy' world (btw, for the record I hate the word 'goy', a derogatory term for non-Jew). It is much riskier, however to write for a Jewish audience, as Jews have something to say about just about everything (Haven't you ever watched Seinfeld?)

Jews, as a whole are very well-read and opinionated. Also, there's the joke that if you have three Jews together in a room, you will have four different opinions. Another joke is about two Jews trapped on an island who build three synagogues/schuls. The punchline is to ask about the three schuls if there are only two men. There need to be three synagogues so, there's the one I go to, you go to, and the one where you say 'Uch, oy gevalt, I'm not going there'. In summary, the burden for a Jewish writer is great.

The authors talked about what makes a writer 'too Jewish' or a book 'too Jewy'. Adam Wilson determined that if you are 'more Jewish than Larry David' than you're probably 'too Jewish'. The authors also discussed if a Jewish author automatically writes a Jewish novel even if the book has nothing to do with Judaism. The answer was yes. Jews get each other and we like to talk about our experience being Jewish in a country that is overwhelmingly Christian. Do you celebrate Christmas (for the spirit of it) and have a Hanukkah bush? Do you eat ham or bacon at a friends' dinner party just 'to be polite'? Or, do you try to make your kids as 'waspy' as possible and try to fit in by not 'being too Jewish'?

I say say it loud and proud: I'm JEWISH! Wear that yarmulke, eat that brisket, be a bar/bat mitzvah, learn fluent Hebrew, go to Israel on Birthright, keep milk and meat separate, light the menorah, dance the Hora. However you choose to do it, if you're Jewish, you're Jewish; that's all.



Before I leave you, I will give a list of 25 books that fall (mostly) under the category of contemporary Jewish literature whose authors are all/mostly Jewish:

(*- denotes that me or my wife have read them and you can ask me or her for a review)

~Lipshitz 6 (Two Angry Blondes) by T. Cooper*
~Almost Dead by Assaf Gavron*
~A Year of Living Biblically by A.J. Jacobs*
~Rage Against the Meshugenah by Danny Evans*
~A Seat at the Table by Joshua Halberstam*
~Book of the Unknown by Jonathan Keats*
~Rich Boy by Sharon Pomerantz*
~Sotah by Naomi Ragen*
~God Bless America by Steve Almond*
~Unorthodox by Deborah Feldman*
~Foreskin's Lament by Shalom Auslander
~Flatscreen by Adam Wilson
~Failure to Thrive by Jeff Oliver
~The Believers by Zoe Heller*
~Devil in the Details by Jennifer Traig*
~Matzo Ball Heiress by Laurie Gwen Shapiro*
~All Other Nights by Dara Horn*
~These Days are Ours- Michelle Haimoff
~A Fortunate Age by Joanna Smith Rakoff
~Born to Kvetch by Michael Wex
~Everything is Illuminated by Jonathan Safron Foer
~The Adventures of Kavalier and Clay by Michael Chabon
~Frozen Rabbi by Steve Stern
~The Plot Against America by Philip Roth*
~Night/Dawn/The Accident (trilogy)- Elie Wiesel*

I will also give a link to Israeli keffiyehs and other Judaica paraphernalia made by Baruch Chertok, who I have met. He has reclaimed what has become a symbol for Palestinian solidarity to remake it as a symbol of Jewish/Israeli pride/solidarity!
Israeli Keffiyeh

L'Chaim,

  ~R~