I feel like I've been so busy lately thinking about recent events at my temple that I haven't given myself any time to process the last semester and the semester to come. While I have full appreciation for the difficulties going on in St Louis right now, I want to switch gears back into my life as a cantorial student at HUC.
Fall semester ended very well. I passed all of my classes (I saw the proof of straight P's on my electronic grade card.) I feel very, very good about all of my singing classes from last semester, and am excited to continue most of them into this semester.
The most exciting thing on my plate right now? PRACTICUM. Every year, SSM students are required to give a 20-25 minute musical presentation in front of the entire SSM student and faculty body. These presentations are usually taken from the context of a service, be it Shabbat, High Holy Day, other festival, or weekday. Sometimes, the presentations are in the form of a concert, focusing on a period or composer of Jewish music. Afterwards, the students and faculty gather for a bagel lunch where the performer is complemented and critiqued.
My practicum is one week from today, and I'll be presenting a traditional-style (meaning something that would be done in a conservative or orthodox Jewish community) Shabbat morning program. This is BY FAR the scariest thing I have ever had to do at HUC; it makes the services I led last year seem embarrassingly easy. Growing up where I did, I didn't have a lot of access to traditional chazzanut. It's still new to my ears and tongue, and I'll be singing in front of people who've devoted their lives to this music, people who have a lot to say about the job I'll do.
Keep your fingers crossed that I don't totally blow it next Wednesday.
This practicum will be special not only because it's my first practicum (I'll give 4 by the time I'm done.) My dad is coming from St Louis to hear it and hang out with his favorite daughter. I'm excited to spend some quality time with him and even more excited to show him what it is that I do every day at HUC. I'm sure we'll also have the opportunity to see and do some fun stuff in NYC, and eat some good food :)
There are lots of other exciting things going on this semester, but since practicum is taking over my mind, I'll talk about them as the semester wears on. For now, I'll leave you with a list of goals for the Spring semester.
GOALS:
-To give the best practicum I can possibly give
-To begin preparing for comps early enough to actually pass them
-To volunteer at least once a month at the HUC soup kitchen
-To sing a successful service in South Bend, despite the airplanes and distance and exhaustion
-To find a fulfilling and decent paying summer job
-To go to the gym at least 3 times a week
-To keep up with my history reading
-To continue to love the music I am learning
-To make my bed on a regular basis...don't tell my Aunt Diane, but I might have started to slack in that department once the semester got crazy...
-To study something just for fun, whether it be Feldenkrais, photography, Torah, cooking, whatever
-To find reasons to laugh at least 3 times a day
Wednesday, January 14, 2009
Saturday, January 10, 2009
How I Really Feel
I have a confession to make:
I've spent the last 5 days on a cruise ship to the Caribbean with my family. No, I'm not joking. And yes, I hardly talked about it to anyone, especially temple people, while I was home in St Louis.
It wasn't because I wasn't excited about going. It was because it just felt wrong to brag about it in light of recent events. The last thing I wanted to do was rub it in anyone's face while they were tackling the huge changes going on at the temple right now.
For my silence, I am sorry.
I've spent the last 3 weeks going over and over the decision that my synagogue has made in my mind. I've talked to my cantor several times, to 2 board members, to the senior rabbi. If I've learned anything, it's that the whole decision--from top to bottom--SUCKS. Obviously, it's harder for some than it is for others; the people in charge of making this decision still have their jobs while my cantor doesn't--but I haven't found anyone at my synagogue who is truly pleased with this choice. I've also learned that the infrastructure of synagogue politics is hugely complicated; sometimes, a synagogue does have to operate like a major cooperation to stay afloat.
The nice thing about being on a cruise ship is the ability to let the ocean waves help you forget about life. Right before I left, when everyone assumed I was going back to NYC, I had just about had it when it came to talking about this situation. It made my time at home a sad and stressful one, and I walked onto the ship last week in a state of emotional exhaustion. The first day of the cruise, as we were floating our way to Ocho Rios, all I could do was take a step back and examine my own emotional roller coaster this decision has put me on. It's been a crazy journey of shock, anger, sadness, understanding, compassion, love and so, so much more.
Like the ocean, my emotions have come in waves, sometimes returning with a vengeance. Right now, as I sit in my cold apartment awaiting the snow storm that will hit once Shabbat arrives, I am once again very angry. Angry at my rabbi for not really listening to me when I spoke to him last week. Angry at the congregation for waiting 2 months before giving my cantor her well-deserved farewell service (and for a certain someone telling me the service was being given only for her sake.) Angry at the board for thinking that a musical rabbi could handle the musical and spiritual demands placed on the cantor. Angry that board and staff members are showing "compassion" to my cantor without doing much to save her job or get her back on her feet.
In so many ways, this decision feels like a death, and I (as well as the others who feel as I do) am still in the grieving process. Anyone grieving a loss goes through a similiar cycle of emotions as I am going through right now. I don't feel bad for being angry right now. Why should I? As a future cantor and member of my synagogue, I have every right to feel angry at the people who made this decision. I have every right to feel as though a huge part of my spiritual experience has been ripped away from me, and that a singing rabbi could never, ever replace it. My spiritual home can never be the same, and all because of irresponsible budgeting and a bad economy.
And more than anything else, I feel guilty. I feel guilty for being here, studying what I love, when the person who led me to be here is out of work. I feel guilty for writing on this blog about my upcoming semester and practicum when I know full well it will be hard for her to read it. I don't want to rub my success in her face; she deserves nothing but thanks for doing her job so beautifully that she inspired one of her congregants to be just like her. I feel guilty that I told her I can not sing at the synagogue again without her blessing (though it's completely how I feel), as it does put a huge amount of responsibility on her shoulders. I feel guilty that I didn't know about this decision before that couldn't do anything to help. I feel guilty that I haven't done enough to help her through this incredibly tough time. I feel guilty that I don't know what more I can do to help her when I want so badly to have the solution.
And I feel guilty for indulging in a vacation--albeit a very INexpensive one--when my family could have used that money to give back to the temple.
Reading through this with tears streaming down my face, I realize I may have said too much. My intentions are not to hurt or offend anyone; it's important to me that all of you who read this know how I really feel and know how much I am hurting for myself, my congregation, and my cantor.
As I've been saying for the last 3 weeks, this whole situation really, really sucks.
Right now, I wish so badly that none of it had ever happened.
I've spent the last 5 days on a cruise ship to the Caribbean with my family. No, I'm not joking. And yes, I hardly talked about it to anyone, especially temple people, while I was home in St Louis.
It wasn't because I wasn't excited about going. It was because it just felt wrong to brag about it in light of recent events. The last thing I wanted to do was rub it in anyone's face while they were tackling the huge changes going on at the temple right now.
For my silence, I am sorry.
I've spent the last 3 weeks going over and over the decision that my synagogue has made in my mind. I've talked to my cantor several times, to 2 board members, to the senior rabbi. If I've learned anything, it's that the whole decision--from top to bottom--SUCKS. Obviously, it's harder for some than it is for others; the people in charge of making this decision still have their jobs while my cantor doesn't--but I haven't found anyone at my synagogue who is truly pleased with this choice. I've also learned that the infrastructure of synagogue politics is hugely complicated; sometimes, a synagogue does have to operate like a major cooperation to stay afloat.
The nice thing about being on a cruise ship is the ability to let the ocean waves help you forget about life. Right before I left, when everyone assumed I was going back to NYC, I had just about had it when it came to talking about this situation. It made my time at home a sad and stressful one, and I walked onto the ship last week in a state of emotional exhaustion. The first day of the cruise, as we were floating our way to Ocho Rios, all I could do was take a step back and examine my own emotional roller coaster this decision has put me on. It's been a crazy journey of shock, anger, sadness, understanding, compassion, love and so, so much more.
Like the ocean, my emotions have come in waves, sometimes returning with a vengeance. Right now, as I sit in my cold apartment awaiting the snow storm that will hit once Shabbat arrives, I am once again very angry. Angry at my rabbi for not really listening to me when I spoke to him last week. Angry at the congregation for waiting 2 months before giving my cantor her well-deserved farewell service (and for a certain someone telling me the service was being given only for her sake.) Angry at the board for thinking that a musical rabbi could handle the musical and spiritual demands placed on the cantor. Angry that board and staff members are showing "compassion" to my cantor without doing much to save her job or get her back on her feet.
In so many ways, this decision feels like a death, and I (as well as the others who feel as I do) am still in the grieving process. Anyone grieving a loss goes through a similiar cycle of emotions as I am going through right now. I don't feel bad for being angry right now. Why should I? As a future cantor and member of my synagogue, I have every right to feel angry at the people who made this decision. I have every right to feel as though a huge part of my spiritual experience has been ripped away from me, and that a singing rabbi could never, ever replace it. My spiritual home can never be the same, and all because of irresponsible budgeting and a bad economy.
And more than anything else, I feel guilty. I feel guilty for being here, studying what I love, when the person who led me to be here is out of work. I feel guilty for writing on this blog about my upcoming semester and practicum when I know full well it will be hard for her to read it. I don't want to rub my success in her face; she deserves nothing but thanks for doing her job so beautifully that she inspired one of her congregants to be just like her. I feel guilty that I told her I can not sing at the synagogue again without her blessing (though it's completely how I feel), as it does put a huge amount of responsibility on her shoulders. I feel guilty that I didn't know about this decision before that couldn't do anything to help. I feel guilty that I haven't done enough to help her through this incredibly tough time. I feel guilty that I don't know what more I can do to help her when I want so badly to have the solution.
And I feel guilty for indulging in a vacation--albeit a very INexpensive one--when my family could have used that money to give back to the temple.
Reading through this with tears streaming down my face, I realize I may have said too much. My intentions are not to hurt or offend anyone; it's important to me that all of you who read this know how I really feel and know how much I am hurting for myself, my congregation, and my cantor.
As I've been saying for the last 3 weeks, this whole situation really, really sucks.
Right now, I wish so badly that none of it had ever happened.
Friday, December 26, 2008
No Words
Last Friday night after services, I wrote a long, sad and bitter post about the situation going on in my home synagogue right now.
A situation that I'm not comfortable sharing in this forum, for a number of reasons.
My post didn't include this person's name, to protect her identity to those who come across this blog incidentally.
It felt silly, even wrong, to refer to this person as "my cantor."
She is so much more than just that.
My post talked meanly about the person/people who made this decision.
A decision they needed to make.
My words were mostly out of the anger and loss I am feeling right now.
Words that could never change the decision, words that would only bring sadness to the people who might have read them.
Therefore, I didn't post the blog. I didn't even save it.
There aren't enough words to describe the sadness and anger this decision has brought into my heart.
The selfish worries for my own future--a future that I thought would always be secure--that are running rampant through my head.
The void that will forever be with me, now that my synagogue is no longer my home.
If this person isn't there, it can't be my home.
And that's the hardest part of all, because so much of my life is still there.
And yet, despite all of my anger and sorrow, I feel the need to share this.
To share something that tells this person how much she means to me and to the congregation.
Had she been given the proper goodbye, I would have shared this poem with her so the congregation could hear.
But since she wasn't given so much as a goodbye, I'll leave them here so everyone I love, including her, can read them.
These words have been with me for the last 10+ years, as long as I've known this person. They capture so beautifully her work at the synagogue, and the gifts she has shared with me and so many others.
To this person--you know who you are--I love you with all my heart.
Thank you for being my mentor, my teacher, my ema #2, my friend.
Thank you for sharing your music, your soul, with me.
Thank you for teaching me the true meaning of success.
This poem is for you, because you have done all of these things and so much more.
What is Success?
A situation that I'm not comfortable sharing in this forum, for a number of reasons.
My post didn't include this person's name, to protect her identity to those who come across this blog incidentally.
It felt silly, even wrong, to refer to this person as "my cantor."
She is so much more than just that.
My post talked meanly about the person/people who made this decision.
A decision they needed to make.
My words were mostly out of the anger and loss I am feeling right now.
Words that could never change the decision, words that would only bring sadness to the people who might have read them.
Therefore, I didn't post the blog. I didn't even save it.
There aren't enough words to describe the sadness and anger this decision has brought into my heart.
The selfish worries for my own future--a future that I thought would always be secure--that are running rampant through my head.
The void that will forever be with me, now that my synagogue is no longer my home.
If this person isn't there, it can't be my home.
And that's the hardest part of all, because so much of my life is still there.
And yet, despite all of my anger and sorrow, I feel the need to share this.
To share something that tells this person how much she means to me and to the congregation.
Had she been given the proper goodbye, I would have shared this poem with her so the congregation could hear.
But since she wasn't given so much as a goodbye, I'll leave them here so everyone I love, including her, can read them.
These words have been with me for the last 10+ years, as long as I've known this person. They capture so beautifully her work at the synagogue, and the gifts she has shared with me and so many others.
To this person--you know who you are--I love you with all my heart.
Thank you for being my mentor, my teacher, my ema #2, my friend.
Thank you for sharing your music, your soul, with me.
Thank you for teaching me the true meaning of success.
This poem is for you, because you have done all of these things and so much more.
What is Success?
To laugh often and much;
To win the respect of intelligent people
and the affection of children;
To earn the appreciation of honest critics
and endure the betrayal of false friends;
To appreciate beauty;
To find the best in others;
To leave the world a bit better, whether by
a healthy child, a garden patch
or a redeemed social condition;
To know even one life has breathed
easier because you have lived;
This is to have succeeded.
~Ralph Waldo Emerson
Thursday, December 18, 2008
V'Shamru
I wanted to share a recording of one of my pieces from my Shabbat Reform Workshop final this morning. It's a setting of V'Shamru by Maurice Goldman (even though the beginning is cut off...)
I haven't been good with keeping up with the blog as of late, I know...but I'm hoping this recording makes up for it. I'm very proud of this piece; not only is it very difficult to sing, but I've worked tirelessly with it to make it the best it can be. Though it's not perfect, I'm very happy with how this turned out. It was one of those moments where everything just clicked into place, and I knew with my entire being that I was doing exactly the right thing at exactly the right time.
Enjoy...the next time I blog will be from St Louis!
I haven't been good with keeping up with the blog as of late, I know...but I'm hoping this recording makes up for it. I'm very proud of this piece; not only is it very difficult to sing, but I've worked tirelessly with it to make it the best it can be. Though it's not perfect, I'm very happy with how this turned out. It was one of those moments where everything just clicked into place, and I knew with my entire being that I was doing exactly the right thing at exactly the right time.
Enjoy...the next time I blog will be from St Louis!
Friday, December 5, 2008
Random Acts of Kindness
Sometimes I am overwhelmed, in the best possible way, by the acts of kindness I encounter every single day. Living in New York City, it is so easy to get caught up in the hustle and bustle of daily life and to see only the ugly that this world has to offer. I am so very thankful for the people in my life who remind me that kindness is a virtue, and that goodness does indeed exist in our world.
We read in Pirkei Avot, "On three things the world stands: on Torah, on avodah (worship/work for God) and on gimilut chasadim (deeds of loving kindness.)" Each of these three pillars of the Jewish faith could easily stand on their own, but really, they each blend into one another so easily when we talk about deeds of loving kindness. We are reminded of kindness many times in Torah, and our worship allows us time to pray to God for those around us who are in need of prayer. When we pray to God on behalf of others, even if only once in awhile, we open ourselves up our own acts of kindness.
One of the most beautiful things about my spiritual journey throughout the last year and a half has been the opening of my eyes to acts of kindness. While I'm not always quick to show it, I am genuinely thankful for the ability to recognize this kindness. In the last few months, so many people have reached out to me in the form of kind words, gifts, and/or support. To all of you, thank you so, so much--for loving me, for opening yourselves up to gimilut chasadim, and for making me a kinder person through your thoughts, words, and generosity. Whether you realize it or not, you are each an example of living, breathing Torah, and you help to carry on all three of these pillars of our Jewish faith. You also remind me, in whatever ways I am able, to extend the same kindness towards others. Your actions make ME a better person in the eyes of God and Jewish tradition.
There is no better gift you can give me than that.
Thank you.
We read in Pirkei Avot, "On three things the world stands: on Torah, on avodah (worship/work for God) and on gimilut chasadim (deeds of loving kindness.)" Each of these three pillars of the Jewish faith could easily stand on their own, but really, they each blend into one another so easily when we talk about deeds of loving kindness. We are reminded of kindness many times in Torah, and our worship allows us time to pray to God for those around us who are in need of prayer. When we pray to God on behalf of others, even if only once in awhile, we open ourselves up our own acts of kindness.
One of the most beautiful things about my spiritual journey throughout the last year and a half has been the opening of my eyes to acts of kindness. While I'm not always quick to show it, I am genuinely thankful for the ability to recognize this kindness. In the last few months, so many people have reached out to me in the form of kind words, gifts, and/or support. To all of you, thank you so, so much--for loving me, for opening yourselves up to gimilut chasadim, and for making me a kinder person through your thoughts, words, and generosity. Whether you realize it or not, you are each an example of living, breathing Torah, and you help to carry on all three of these pillars of our Jewish faith. You also remind me, in whatever ways I am able, to extend the same kindness towards others. Your actions make ME a better person in the eyes of God and Jewish tradition.
There is no better gift you can give me than that.
Thank you.
Thursday, November 27, 2008
Happy Thanksgiving!
I am so happy to be back in the United States for Thanksgiving. While we had a wonderful time last year, it's so nice to be back in a country that appreciates turkey (and knows how to properly cook it) and knows what the meaning of the holiday is all about. I am thankful for a lot of things this year, especially for the gift of the family and friendship I've inherited through Steph and her family. I'm spending this Thanksgiving in Reston, Virginia, just outside of DC, and while I'm sad to not be at home this year, I'm so lucky and happy to be surrounded by people who are so loving and caring towards me. Special thanks and gratitude (that's the word of the day, according to Steph's mom) to the Schnitzer family and the Clark family, for welcoming me so graciously into your homes and families.
Wherever you are today, take a moment to appreciate those whom you love and all of the gifts we all possess. I am thankful for you all and love you very much!
And, since I love her, I leave you with a prayer written by Naomi Levy (by the time I graduate y'all won't need to buy her book, since I post so many of her prayers right here!) Steph is going to read a modified version tonight at her dad's thanksgiving table. Enjoy your turkey!
A Thanksgiving Prayer
By Rabbi Naomi Levy
For the laughter of the children,
For my own life breath,
For the abundance of food on this table,
For the ones who prepared this sumptuous feast,
For the roof over our heads,
The clothes on our backs,
For our health,
And our wealth of blessings,
For this opportunity to celebrate with family and friends,
For the freedom to pray these words
Without fear,
In any language,
In any faith,
In this great country,
Whose landscape is as vast and beautiful as her inhabitants.
Thank You, God, for giving us all these. Amen.
Wherever you are today, take a moment to appreciate those whom you love and all of the gifts we all possess. I am thankful for you all and love you very much!
And, since I love her, I leave you with a prayer written by Naomi Levy (by the time I graduate y'all won't need to buy her book, since I post so many of her prayers right here!) Steph is going to read a modified version tonight at her dad's thanksgiving table. Enjoy your turkey!
A Thanksgiving Prayer
By Rabbi Naomi Levy
For the laughter of the children,
For my own life breath,
For the abundance of food on this table,
For the ones who prepared this sumptuous feast,
For the roof over our heads,
The clothes on our backs,
For our health,
And our wealth of blessings,
For this opportunity to celebrate with family and friends,
For the freedom to pray these words
Without fear,
In any language,
In any faith,
In this great country,
Whose landscape is as vast and beautiful as her inhabitants.
Thank You, God, for giving us all these. Amen.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Fake it 'til you make it?
I love what I am doing with my love. 100%--truly madly deepy, can't think of anything else I'd rather do with my life--LOVE what I do. I love the challenges I encounter, the pressures of a million classes and 2 jobs and the upkeep of an apartment and life as a singleton.
With that said, I'm coming out of the 2 most exhausting weeks of the year thus far. And when I say exhausting, I mean it in every sense of the word.
I had a conversation with my friend Nicole the other day. Nicole is a second year rabbinical student in Cinci, who lived downstairs from Steph and I last year. We're still good friends, and had a great time catching up. But we both admitted that it feels as though we're drowning in work, and while there is plenty and then some to do, there just aren't enough hours in the day to do it all. And even when you don't do it all, it's hard to do what you DO do (confusing, anyone?) to your best ability. I've spent the last 2 weeks feeling as though I've half-assed my entire life in order to just keep up with it all. I've done nothing to the best of my abilities and have barely gotten it done in the process. I hate when I feel underprepared or rushed or as though I didn't give 100%. I hate knowing that I could have done better had I been more prepared. I hate feeling as though I've let everyone down and looked like an idiot while doing so. Most of all, I hate the feeling of being pulled in a million different directions, with everyone wanting more and more and me not being physically, mentally, or emotionally able to give them what they want.
OK, so that last statement might have been a little over the top and egocentric. No one in my life--professors, rabbis, congregants, family--has complained about any of the work I've done...it's all in my head. Like most of us, I am my own harshest critic. I want to be one of those people who is on top of things all the time (like a few of my classmates who I will never completely understand.) I just don't get how they can manage it all so well while some of us are left drowning just trying to stay afloat.
It really hit me last weekend when I was in South Bend. I LOVE every aspect of my job there, from the rabbi I work with to the fantastic community of congregants to the area in general. Getting there is exhausting--2 airplanes and 3 airports in the course of a day. Then, I always feel a little rushed to work with the rabbi and/or the accompanist to put the service together. By the time I actually co-lead the service, I am completely exhausted. I have not to this point been able to sing a Friday night service to the level I know I can; there are always silly mistakes and forgetful moments that come from just being tired.
This past weekend, Eric was out of town, so I organized and led services on my own, with the help of our wonderful accompanist Steve. I had all these amazing visions and preparations for a beautiful Shabbat in Song Friday night, and it was so disappointing to watch my plans crumble as I sang things badly, tripped over the reading I'd chosen, and stammered my way through my own words and thoughts I added into the service. I also forgot to read half the kaddish list, which is a much bigger deal than it may seem (if you went to services only to hear your loved one's name read, wouldn't you be pissed that it was left out?) It didn't help that I was also in the middle of a nasty head cold and on cold medicine, pushing my voice through a sore throat.
I love the ability I have to create a warm, lovely service environment. I've always been praised for my sincere warmth on the bimah, something I take great pride in. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was struggling to keep positive energy in the chapel as I was leading services. I was bored myself, so I can imagine how boring the service must have been for the congregation. So the service leaves me wondering: How, when you are exhausted and sick and alone on the bimah, do you create and sustain the positive energy needed for a Shabbat service? I never learned how to "fake it", since I've never really needed to, and I don't really want to have to fake it on the bimah. Prayer to God should never feel contrived or artificial.
This was so surprising to me, given that I love what I do and I love the people I was doing this with. I guess that's the purpose of a student pulpit; to learn these things that being a cantorial soloist or classroom student can't teach you. I do, however, want to be able to go to South Bend and be pleased with my Friday night service. I'm hoping that happens sooner rather than later.
Thank goodness I have this weekend to relax a little bit, to recharge and reconnect with myself and those I haven't been able to connect with throughout the last 2 weeks. This is why I love Shabbat, even on a rainy, cold day like today.
Shabbat Shalom.
With that said, I'm coming out of the 2 most exhausting weeks of the year thus far. And when I say exhausting, I mean it in every sense of the word.
I had a conversation with my friend Nicole the other day. Nicole is a second year rabbinical student in Cinci, who lived downstairs from Steph and I last year. We're still good friends, and had a great time catching up. But we both admitted that it feels as though we're drowning in work, and while there is plenty and then some to do, there just aren't enough hours in the day to do it all. And even when you don't do it all, it's hard to do what you DO do (confusing, anyone?) to your best ability. I've spent the last 2 weeks feeling as though I've half-assed my entire life in order to just keep up with it all. I've done nothing to the best of my abilities and have barely gotten it done in the process. I hate when I feel underprepared or rushed or as though I didn't give 100%. I hate knowing that I could have done better had I been more prepared. I hate feeling as though I've let everyone down and looked like an idiot while doing so. Most of all, I hate the feeling of being pulled in a million different directions, with everyone wanting more and more and me not being physically, mentally, or emotionally able to give them what they want.
OK, so that last statement might have been a little over the top and egocentric. No one in my life--professors, rabbis, congregants, family--has complained about any of the work I've done...it's all in my head. Like most of us, I am my own harshest critic. I want to be one of those people who is on top of things all the time (like a few of my classmates who I will never completely understand.) I just don't get how they can manage it all so well while some of us are left drowning just trying to stay afloat.
It really hit me last weekend when I was in South Bend. I LOVE every aspect of my job there, from the rabbi I work with to the fantastic community of congregants to the area in general. Getting there is exhausting--2 airplanes and 3 airports in the course of a day. Then, I always feel a little rushed to work with the rabbi and/or the accompanist to put the service together. By the time I actually co-lead the service, I am completely exhausted. I have not to this point been able to sing a Friday night service to the level I know I can; there are always silly mistakes and forgetful moments that come from just being tired.
This past weekend, Eric was out of town, so I organized and led services on my own, with the help of our wonderful accompanist Steve. I had all these amazing visions and preparations for a beautiful Shabbat in Song Friday night, and it was so disappointing to watch my plans crumble as I sang things badly, tripped over the reading I'd chosen, and stammered my way through my own words and thoughts I added into the service. I also forgot to read half the kaddish list, which is a much bigger deal than it may seem (if you went to services only to hear your loved one's name read, wouldn't you be pissed that it was left out?) It didn't help that I was also in the middle of a nasty head cold and on cold medicine, pushing my voice through a sore throat.
I love the ability I have to create a warm, lovely service environment. I've always been praised for my sincere warmth on the bimah, something I take great pride in. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was struggling to keep positive energy in the chapel as I was leading services. I was bored myself, so I can imagine how boring the service must have been for the congregation. So the service leaves me wondering: How, when you are exhausted and sick and alone on the bimah, do you create and sustain the positive energy needed for a Shabbat service? I never learned how to "fake it", since I've never really needed to, and I don't really want to have to fake it on the bimah. Prayer to God should never feel contrived or artificial.
This was so surprising to me, given that I love what I do and I love the people I was doing this with. I guess that's the purpose of a student pulpit; to learn these things that being a cantorial soloist or classroom student can't teach you. I do, however, want to be able to go to South Bend and be pleased with my Friday night service. I'm hoping that happens sooner rather than later.
Thank goodness I have this weekend to relax a little bit, to recharge and reconnect with myself and those I haven't been able to connect with throughout the last 2 weeks. This is why I love Shabbat, even on a rainy, cold day like today.
Shabbat Shalom.
Weekend With Steph
Stacy and Trephanie together again :)It is fun, however, to be able to go and visit each other from time to time. I went to Cinci early September, and Halloween weekend, Steph graced me with her presence here in NY. Her stepfather, who is a cantor in Baltimore, and her mom brought a small group of confirmation students for a Jewish themed weekend in NY, so Steph decided to use some frequent flyer miles and come as well. She flew in on Thursday night (the beginning of the HUC weekend) and was met by Julia at the airport. The two of them came back to my apartment while I was at work and ordered dinner, which we ate together when I arrived back home. I so loved coming home to smiling faces and laughter; when you live alone, it's such a treat to be greeted by people once in awhile! We spent the night exactly as we would spend Shabbat in Israel; eating (of course), watching Grey's Anatomy, talking about doing homework while not actually doing any homework, and laughing at the crazy events going on in our lives.
Friday, we woke up, showered, grabbed brunch at the delish little cafe close to the subway, and headed out to Brooklyn to hang out with Julia a little more. Julia was hosting a Halloween-themed housewarming party that Sunday, so we went to help her bake pumpkin cupcakes and get her apartment ready for the soiree. We had a wonderful time and ate WAAAAAAAY too much frosting, cupcakes, candy, and Pirate's Booty (my fave new snack...)
Pumpkin cupcakes! Aren't they cute?
A ridiculous picture of Julia and I as the cupcakes were baking
Dinner #2 on the Upper West Side. From left to right: Becca, Jen, me, Steph, Marc, Julia (she's the only one who dared to dress up)
I'm not quite sure what this guy is supposed to be...God, maybe?
Borat!! We laughed for about 10 minutes when we saw this guy, but couldn't get up the nerve to take our picture with him. 
Wow.After finally getting home (the subway close to us were blocked off and we went through 4 cabs before we could find one to FINALLY take us home), Steph and I went to sleep. We woke up Saturday and headed to Times Square, close to the cute Stardust Diner where we ate brunch. The Stardust is SO MUCH FUN! Broadway wannabes work as waiters and waitresses, and sing Broadway songs while you eat. It's overpriced and touristy, but I don't care and will be going back many times over the course of the next 4 years. We then decided to catch a movie, which was fun (Steph's been to NYC a few times, so the need to do touristy stuff wasn't really an issue.) After that, we went to the TKTS booth, my favorite place in NYC, where we landed half-price tickets to The Little Mermaid! Before the show, we met up with Steph's mom for an early dinner, and enjoyed some mama-time.
At dinner with Steph's mama. Doesn't she look like she's our age? 
The obligatory poster picture
Getting my program signed? Heaven!Sadly, Steph had to leave NYC very, very early on Sunday morning to make it back to Cinci to teach. We woke up at 4am and hopped a cab to LaGuardia, where we said goodbye for now. It wasn't too sad of a goodbye, however, because Steph and her families kindly invited me for Thanksgiving! Since I'm not able to go home, I'll be hopping a bus to the DC area to spend the holiday with her. I'm so excited to see her and to attend the myriad of festivities going on throughout the weekend. Yay!
Like I said, it's so strange to be at HUC without Steph around. These times, when we can be together and feel as though absolutely nothing has changed (even though our entire lives actually have changed) make me realize just how special Steph and our friendship really is.
Steph, come back!!!!
And this time, don't leave!
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Where I've Been
I'm sorry for the lack of updates as of late; it's been such a CRAZY couple of weeks around here, full of good friends, lots of work, long days, preparations, etc etc etc! I had a huge assignment due for my Bible class, which was actually really helpful and interesting. We were to create an annotated translation of any passage from the Tanach. So, not only did we have to translate our portion word for word, but we had to consult several different Bible translations, looking for and explaining inconsistencies and why we translated the way we did. I have a strange love of translating Torah; to this day, I'm still so proud to have the ability to translate these words, to decipher the text in it's original form and decide for myself what it really means. Also for my Bible class, each one of us is required to present a translation and lead a short discussion on whatever parsha we're studying for the day. We've just moved from Torah to the prophets, and I was supposed to read and translate some of the book of Joshua this past Thursday. I have to admit that I have a slight fear of leading a discussion on the Bible or any area in the Judaic realm, especially amongst the intelligent people I go to school with. It's so good for me to do this, even if it terrifies me, as leading Torah study will probably be an important part of my job once I am invested. We ran out of class time before I was able to present, so I'll present on Tuesday and let you know how it goes.
I've also been busy preparing music for both my Reform Shabbat workshop and my Traditional Shabbat workshop. For the Reform workshop, we're allowed to use music, but are expected to have our pieces prepared to performance level (as if we were going to use them in a service.) It's a tough expectation to meet, as we don't always know the background of the piece or how it's supposed to sound until after we've sung it. It takes a lot of prep work and requires us to really learn about the text of each of the pieces. I'm learning a TON of good music in this class, and it's taught by the incredible Cantor Benjie-Ellen Schiller, so I can't complain too much. For our Traditional workshop, we are usually required to sing the nusach straight from the prayerbook, which requires us to practically memorize the pieces. It's much easier said than done, but again, the class is fantastic and gives me a good sense of the traditional melodies and how they relate to the texts. Luckily, our professor is so sweet about our mistakes and will help us out whenever we need it.
I am also beginning to prepare for my practicum, which will take place on January 21. The School of Sacred Music (SSM) requires all 2nd, 3rd and 4th year students to give one or more practicum a year, where we sing a part of a service either in a traditional or Reform manner. Everyone has a theme that is assigned to them by the faculty of the SSM, adn the themes vary between Shabbat, High Holy Day, and holiday liturgies, and sometimes focus on certain periods of Jewish music that are secular. They take place on Wednesday, so part of our job is to make the listener feel as though they are actually in a real service. For example, the theme of my practicum is traditional Shabbat morning, Shochein Ad through Tzur Yisrael. Besides singing the nusach well, I also have to make the audience (SSM students and faculty) feel as though it really is Shabbat and we are really praying these prayers. It's a scary task to take on, especially when I'm not comfortable or very familiar with traditional nusach; it's a completely different style of synagogue singing than what I am used to, and I will be singing in front of a panel of faculty who all know the style so much better than I (which I guess they should.) After the practicum is over, the entire SSM gathers for lunch and the students giving the practicum are given comments and feedback by all the faculty members. Usually, many members of the faculty are very nice, though oftentimes they are very picky and tell it like it is; if they didn't like your practicum, they will not be shy about it.
Scary!!!
Anyways, in addition to all of my school stuff going on, I am spending this weekend at my pulpit in South Bend (and actually writing this from my wonderful host Posi's computer!) This weekend, I played both cantor AND rabbi, as Eric was out of town. I always forget how much work is involved in planning and executing a service, but overall, everything went well. I led the services and gave a short d'var torah this morning, making parallels from the Torah portion to where our country is at the moment, right after the presidential election (GOBAMA!!!) Everything went over well, though not perfectly. I'm just happy my congregation was happy.
So, that is why I haven't done much posting lately. I've had a few things going on! I want to write a blog about and share pictures from Steph's visit, which was so much fun, but that will have to wait until I'm back in NY and have written my paper for Jewish history, due on Tuesday (Have I started it? What do YOU think? I have mastered the art of procrastination quite well!)
I really hope everyone is well and happy. I can't wait to see you when I'm home for winter break (Dec 25-Jan 3.) I'll post pictures soon, I promise!
Shavua tov.
I've also been busy preparing music for both my Reform Shabbat workshop and my Traditional Shabbat workshop. For the Reform workshop, we're allowed to use music, but are expected to have our pieces prepared to performance level (as if we were going to use them in a service.) It's a tough expectation to meet, as we don't always know the background of the piece or how it's supposed to sound until after we've sung it. It takes a lot of prep work and requires us to really learn about the text of each of the pieces. I'm learning a TON of good music in this class, and it's taught by the incredible Cantor Benjie-Ellen Schiller, so I can't complain too much. For our Traditional workshop, we are usually required to sing the nusach straight from the prayerbook, which requires us to practically memorize the pieces. It's much easier said than done, but again, the class is fantastic and gives me a good sense of the traditional melodies and how they relate to the texts. Luckily, our professor is so sweet about our mistakes and will help us out whenever we need it.
I am also beginning to prepare for my practicum, which will take place on January 21. The School of Sacred Music (SSM) requires all 2nd, 3rd and 4th year students to give one or more practicum a year, where we sing a part of a service either in a traditional or Reform manner. Everyone has a theme that is assigned to them by the faculty of the SSM, adn the themes vary between Shabbat, High Holy Day, and holiday liturgies, and sometimes focus on certain periods of Jewish music that are secular. They take place on Wednesday, so part of our job is to make the listener feel as though they are actually in a real service. For example, the theme of my practicum is traditional Shabbat morning, Shochein Ad through Tzur Yisrael. Besides singing the nusach well, I also have to make the audience (SSM students and faculty) feel as though it really is Shabbat and we are really praying these prayers. It's a scary task to take on, especially when I'm not comfortable or very familiar with traditional nusach; it's a completely different style of synagogue singing than what I am used to, and I will be singing in front of a panel of faculty who all know the style so much better than I (which I guess they should.) After the practicum is over, the entire SSM gathers for lunch and the students giving the practicum are given comments and feedback by all the faculty members. Usually, many members of the faculty are very nice, though oftentimes they are very picky and tell it like it is; if they didn't like your practicum, they will not be shy about it.
Scary!!!
Anyways, in addition to all of my school stuff going on, I am spending this weekend at my pulpit in South Bend (and actually writing this from my wonderful host Posi's computer!) This weekend, I played both cantor AND rabbi, as Eric was out of town. I always forget how much work is involved in planning and executing a service, but overall, everything went well. I led the services and gave a short d'var torah this morning, making parallels from the Torah portion to where our country is at the moment, right after the presidential election (GOBAMA!!!) Everything went over well, though not perfectly. I'm just happy my congregation was happy.
So, that is why I haven't done much posting lately. I've had a few things going on! I want to write a blog about and share pictures from Steph's visit, which was so much fun, but that will have to wait until I'm back in NY and have written my paper for Jewish history, due on Tuesday (Have I started it? What do YOU think? I have mastered the art of procrastination quite well!)
I really hope everyone is well and happy. I can't wait to see you when I'm home for winter break (Dec 25-Jan 3.) I'll post pictures soon, I promise!
Shavua tov.
Monday, November 3, 2008
Barackin' the Vote!
My absentee ballot, proudly stamped and mailed into Missouri last week.Just a quick post to remind y'all to exercise your right to VOTE in tomorrow's big election. With the shape our country is in, we need CHANGE, and we need it NOW.
And since I'm not officially a cantor yet, and because this blog in no way, shape, or form is affiliated with my congregation or with Hebrew Union College, I am able to say the following without reservation:
GO OBAMA!!!
However you may lean politically (and I do mean that sincerely), may it be God's will that you vote in this election with all your heart, all your mind, and all your best judgement. And may God continue to watch over the United States of America, and lead all of us in the right direction from this point forward.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
