I’ve been spending an inordinate amount of time in the car lately. And the nature of my drives, moving out of my beloved home in Berkeley to transition to the unknown in Canada, has made this time both slightly sorrowful and reflective, which has in turn led to some unexpected trains of thought...
In preparation for my arrival in Canada, I had planned to move out of the apartment in Berkeley and drive down to San Diego on Saturday. I was looking forward to it – ready for the adventure, ready for something new, braced to face the unknown. I navigated the social calendar of the week, with parties, happy hours, and meals, interspersed with packing and cleaning. When Friday arrived, I knew I was a bit behind, but felt confident that I would be able to finish packing and get on the road at a reasonable hour the next day. Full of joy and determination, I headed out for one final party, to celebrate the time honored tradition of sharing cocktails with friends. I stayed out too late that night, for reasons that I really wouldn’t understand until the next day were actually connected to my UNreadiness to leave.
On Sunday morning, the world came crashing down. It began with my ignoring the alarm, and quickly snowballed into my complete inability to perform simple tasks, such as thinking. Suddenly the idea of taking everything that was left in the house and putting it in a small car and driving away forever seemed to be the most impossible thing I had ever attempted. I hated my clothes; I hated my books; I hated boxes, dust rags, packing tape, and even NPR; but most of all, I hated myself. Fortunately, at the point of finding myself completely immobile amidst a precarious pile of objects, I also found myself reaching out for help from a good friend, who came through in a way I could never imagine and scarcely know how to repay. Consolations were given, strategies created, and tears dried. Together, we packed and cleaned for the next 12 hours, until the house was ready to be turned over, and the car was on the verge of bursting. I was forced to admit to myself that I had been, in fact, in NO WAY WHATSOEVER ready to leave Berkeley; but at least if I had to spend another night there I was in good company.
The next morning I set out early, car lumbering and heavy, storms on the horizon, and with a plan to take the coastal route in an attempt to save both my nerves and the car from the Grapevine. The drive was easy enough; I stopped only twice – once to nap and once for gas, and made it home in a respectable 10 hours. About 7 hours into the drive, where the 101 careens out of Ventura County and into the San Fernando Valley, my iPod died. A small inconvenience compared to the rest of my setbacks in this move, I still took it as a grave loss, and yet another sign of my inability to prepare for the trip. I turned on NPR, a familiar resting place, and was slightly disappointed to hear that the show just starting was “Speaking of Religion,” one unfamiliar to me, and far too dry for my impending dash through LA. It took only a few minutes for me to warm up to it, though.
The topic of this particular show was appropriate for the day (Dec 21): Hanukkah, and a Rediscovery of Jewish Customs. On the surface, this could go many unexciting ways. But the introduction of the guest, “book designer and author Scott-Martin Kosofsky,” piqued my interest – a book designer brought on the show to discuss a rediscovery of Jewish customs? What’s his angle….? His angle, it turns out, is a very fascinating one. Kosofsky is the author/editor of a modern edition of the medieval work the Book of Customs, which guided Jewish families through the liturgical year for three centuries. And rather than trying to fit modern life rigidly into anachronistic practices, as I had expected, he lovingly and painstakingly researched the basis and intent of the original text, and along the way discovered some rather profound (at least for me) things in order to bring tradition back into modern life.
I will not review the entire hour show; if your interest is piqued, you can find the podcast and a few other extras here: http://speakingoffaith.publicradio.org/programs/2008/hanukkah/
The things that struck me the most is his consistent return to a few simple themes, no matter the season, liturgy, or holiday he was discussing. One was the ever-changing relationship of man to God, and the changing character of God throughout the liturgy. Growing up Protestant, God did not have a character – he simply WAS. He wasn’t ever ill-tempered or impatient, he was never mischievous, never anything other than all-knowing and all loving. In Kosofsky’s view, God was all of these things, and the story of humans is the story of our interactions with God.
But the theme which left the greatest impression on me is actually that which inspired the original writing of the text – that at the very base of all traditional practices of all sects of the Jewish faith is the adherence to these principles in order to “live like a good person;” that “what you believe follows only after what you do.” I grew up around many observant (reform) Jewish families, and was often a part of holidays and daily practices. Yet this idea was something wholly new to me, at least in the simple way Kosofsky put it: that to be Jewish in faith in a very simple way means to believe in the one God, the chosen people, and the customs to live by. I find this profoundly beautiful, and worth deeper consideration.
While the idea of this simplicity in the Jewish faith had been rolling around in my head since I first heard it, it took something more modern for it to become the subject of a blog – the traffic alert signs on the freeways in LA. After making it breathlessly to San Diego yesterday, I was obliged to go up to Los Angeles today to see friends before I leave for Canada. I am familiar with this stretch of freeway, and am usually amused to see how notices on the oversized LED boards are worded, informing us either dryly or unwittingly humorously about road conditions, traffic, and possible kidnappings. Or, in a perfect world, giving us advice on major decisions a la “LA Story.” I was surprised, then, when the only text, on every sign I passed, on each leg of the 130-mile drive, was “DON’T TEXT WHILE DRIVING JAN 1ST.” Had LA Story come true? Have the signs finally decided they know what is best for us? After about the 8th sign, my brain made the connection – while this might not count as a custom to help you “live like a good person,” it certainly is an example of a required adherence to law in order to protect other members of society. In reality, I enjoy texting in the car and will be glad to be in Canada by the time the law goes into effect. But it also made me wonder more deeply about the role of these shared customs and laws, and in particular about the connections forged by shared remembrances. As a life-long agnostic who’s relationship with God has been at best nebulous and at worst antagonistic, this interpretation of the Jewish faith has hit me as unnervingly comfortable and personal. Perhaps it’s the timing of the receipt of the message, in the midst of my own on-going crisis of changing places, but the idea of living before believing, or living in order to believe (rather than the traditional Christian converse of this idea), may be one that changes my views on religion. Stay tuned…
In the meantime, enjoy this English translation of the cover of a 1593 Venetian print of the Book of Customs:
C U S T O M S
MUCH NICER THAN THE PREVIOUS VERSIONS
Everyone will enjoy reading it!
Contains all the customs in Ashkenaz for the entire year
and includes customs for Italy, Poland, Bohemia, Moravia,
and several more.
Laws explained well, so you will know
how to live like a good person.
And it was not forgotten to include a CALENDAR for seventy
years, counted precisely, containing the zodiac and the times
for Rosh Hodesh, which were not included previously.
Image of woodcut encircled by text:
"This is God, our God
forever and ever, He
will be our guide"
– Psalms 48:14 –
Printed for the second time in the Big City of
V E N I C E
in the year 5353 /1593 at the house of Zuan di Gara
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