It's 5782!

 My last post was about our trip to Los Angeles. I haven't posted about San Francisco and my next trip, to Fluvanna and Essex Counties in Virginia, with a stop on the way back to visit with my sister in Greenbelt, Maryland. Maybe I'll post those soon...ish.

Meantime, time flies, and it's a new Jewish year. COVID-19 has come roaring back, especially in West Virginia, where Jim Justice, our Republican governor, won't put up any mask restrictions because he's afraid he'll start another Civil War. Monongalia County, where we live, has fared relatively well, mostly because people here are not afraid of getting vaccinated. Still, our two hospitals are nearly full, because people in the surrounding areas come here for medical care, and the counties around us have more "vaccine hesitancy." Still, at West Virginia University, the heart of Morgantown, there are no real restrictions, despite the students and faculty both overwhelmingly voting for a vaccine mandate. As I'm writing this, there is a football game, and there are few restrictions on attending, only a suggestion that unvaccinated people wear a mask. 

But I digress. Rabbi Joe wrote sermons for Tree of Life this summer about how great it was to be together after having pre-recorded services last year. Then, as the number of new cases rose, the synagogue committee, which includes several doctors, voted to cancel in-person services. Instead we did it over Zoom, with only the rabbi, a few singers, a tech person, and someone to watch the door, which is now locked.  I was asked to read haftarah on Rosh Hashana, and chant Torah on Yom Kippur. The haftarah is about Hannah asking for a son and pledging him to the temple. Her son Samuel is raised by the temple priest. The Torah on Yom Kippur is from Deuteronomy 29 and 30: "This day I call heaven and earth to witness regarding you: life and death I have set before you, blessing and curse. Choose life-so that you and your children may live." (Deuteronomy 30:19, translation in Mishkan Hanefesh, copyright 2015, Central Conference of American Rabbis). Heavy stuff. I couldn't help but think that getting a vaccine is choosing life, and not getting it is choosing death.

Meanwhile, I haven't been entirely well since our return from California. I had a little bronchial thing going, and I was concerned because we had been in crowds. I went to an urgent care center here on August 6, and they referred me to a central location for a COVID test. It was negative, so I wasn't too worried. I went back September 9, after Rosh Hashana, because I could barely speak and I was feeling pain in my chest from the congestion, where before it had only been in my throat and upper respiratory tract. They gave me a strong antibiotic and another COVID test, also negative, and suggested I see an ear, nose and throat doctor. I went the next day, and he looked in my nose and throat, and while not going "Ewww!," I could tell he was thinking that. He extended the antibiotic, and gave me a nasal antihistamine.  I wasn't sure I would make it to Yom Kippur.

I did drag myself out, having food with my antibiotic in the morning, and coming home for a snack and a nap in the afternoon, before returning for the Memorial (Yizkor) service, where I sang a Hebrew version of the 23rd Psalm, and the ending service. We finished after 7 P.M.  I managed my singing and chanting without difficulty. 

After more than a week on a strong antibiotic, I'm feeling better. The blood tests, which were to check my immune system, were normal except for the one that shows if you have allergies. That one was off the chart. No surprise.

Yom Kippur always makes me think of life and death. Each year, as I get older, I wonder if this is my last year. I've lived longer than my father and both of his parents. I don't get sick often, but when I do, it's bad, with a long recovery. I try to "choose life" by exercising, keeping my weight down, and getting enough sleep, and I'm grateful for my negative COVID tests. Just in today's paper, they announced that ant-COVID vaccination boosters are a good idea for older people. I'll be first in line when they announce it. 

I wish everyone a healthy 5782.

Passover 5780

Passover this year will go down as one of the strangest since... Moses and the Israelites left Egypt. The comparisons I've seen are to people in hiding from the Nazis trying to create some semblance of a holiday, or concentration camp inmates eating forbidden bread or fasting on Passover. We are locked in. Not completely here in West Virginia, where we can go out to get some exercise and fresh air, and can run to the grocery store as long as we stay apart. But we can't gather in large groups for a seder, can't get together with friends and family, can't have a caterer do all the cooking and serving.

We're privileged that we can still have a seder at all. At Tree of Life here in Morgantown, Rabbi Joe will do a short seder on social media. He and I will have a simple Passover meal after the formal seder. Our cleaning woman offered to come this coming week, and the house could use a pre-Passover cleanse. I plan to tell her not to come, and we will do what we can to get the bread crumbs out before the holiday.

Joe and I are not suffering materially. Our income and health insurance are not threatened, we don't owe money except the mortgage, which is less than most people here pay for rent. Joe did say something about having to put up with me all the time. I could say that about him, too.

There is the strangeness of it all. We both went to the grocery store Sunday, early "before the crowds." Yet the store was crowded. Half of the people there were wearing masks and gloves. People looked away or frowned if they thought I was getting too close. The cashiers had a glass wall up between them and us, and after years of bringing reusable bags, we are being told not to.

In our state, it seems like overreaction. Almost all of the thirty-five cases here in Monongalia County were in one nursing home. Only one person has died. Berkeley and Kanawha counties, both with larger population than our county, now have more cases. Testing in West Virginia is limited, and results can take eleven days, so who knows? The news from larger cities is so grim that it strikes fear into my heart. Most of the cases are mild unless one is over seventy or has underlying heart, lung or immune system problems. Check, check, check and check.

I've been running and walking about twenty minutes every day lately. I take the same route, running until it hurts, then walking the uphill parts. Given a choice, I would rather drop instantly from a heart attack while running then die with a tube down my throat, in a hospital, unable to breathe.

The point of Passover is staying alive and being careful. Moses' sister puts him in a basket, the Israelites are saved from death over and over. We celebrate being alive. We have to be grateful at this season for what we have, create new memories of a very different Passover, and take the precautions we can.

I wish my Jewish readers a memorable Passover, and my Christian readers, a meaningful holiday season this week.

Shavuot 5777

Shavuot is a Biblical holiday, coming fifty days after Passover. It was originally a harvest holiday for wheat and barley in ancient Israel. The rabbis added the idea that we assembled at Mount Sinai and received the Torah on this date. Some congregations read the Book of Ruth, because much of it takes place during this harvest season. Today, the holiday is not often celebrated. Some have all-night study sessions, which come from the medieval period. Rabbi Joe said they couldn't do this until coffee was introduced to the Middle East. This year at Tree of Life here in Morgantown, we decided to do a dairy dinner (also traditional), a short service and study sessions, not all night, but maybe until ten or eleven. Although the holiday was Tuesday night and Wednesday, the Tree of Life observance will be Friday night. Conservative and Orthodox congregations outside Israel celebrate for two days.

Since my election to City Council in April, I've had meetings, dinners and Council events to attend, even though I will not be on the Council until July. The City Council met Tuesday night, and the Suncrest Neighborhood Association met at 7 P.M. Wednesday. I unhappily agreed to go to both events, since there was no local observance of Shavuot at those times. At the last minute, we were  invited to a congregant's home for a holiday get-together Tuesday night. I was sorry I couldn't go.

The City Council event was a "Meeting of the Whole" where events and issues are discussed, questions asked, but no decisions made. All seven of the current councilors were there. Only two of them will be on the new council. I was the only one of the five newly-elected councilors to attend as an observer. I had prepared, in my head, something to say about Shavuot, then decided not to talk about it and write it as a blog post. I changed my mind when I saw that the three councilors who lost the election were wearing identical t-shirts with a map of West Virginia and the words "Born and Raised" on them. After the election, one had noted that none of the new City Councilors were born in West Virginia. During the public portion of the meeting, I improvised what I wanted to say on my blog. This is pretty much what I said:

" Tonight begins the Jewish holiday of Shavuot, which occurs fifty days after Passover. We will celebrate this holiday Friday night at Tree of Life. It is traditional to read the Book of Ruth on this holiday. Ruth was a Moabite, from present-day Jordan, married to a man from Bethlehem. When her husband died, leaving her childless, her mother-in-law, Naomi, encouraged her to go back to her family in Moab. Ruth famously said " I will go with you. Your people will be my people, and your God, my God." The two returned to Bethlehem, and Ruth eventually found a kinsman of her late husband who married her and provided an inheritor for the dead man. Ruth was accepted into society in Judea, and was an ancestor of King David.

" July 11 will mark five years since my spouse Joe Hample and I arrived in Morgantown. We were outsiders, a same-gender couple who had lived in California for decades and were raised in liberal East Coast families. Our marriage was not legal in West Virginia until the Fourth Circuit ruling three years ago. Joe was offered a two-year contract with Tree of Life Congregation here in Morgantown. We didn't know how this would work out, and there were doubters in the congregation as well. But we made friends and became involved in the community. After two years, Joe was offered a five-year contract at Tree of Life with the possibility of an extension, and we were able to buy a modest house in Suncrest.

"Last year, we visited our six favorite cities in the world: San Francisco, Los Angeles, New York, Washington, Tel Aviv and Jerusalem. Everywhere we went, people asked us 'Why are you still in West Virginia?' Maybe we didn't realize it until we were first asked, but we are here because West Virginia, and Morgantown in particular, is our home. This is where we live. We are grateful to the people here, that we have been accepted, as Ruth was in Bethlehem, as part of the community, and we have both found a place in this beautiful city. I am happy that I was elected to City Council. Maybe an outsider's point of view was what people were looking for this year, fresh ideas and a different way of looking at Morgantown." The councilor I am replacing sent me a note later thanking me for stepping up.

I had suggested to Joe that we look for a morning holiday service in Pittsburgh. Rodeph Shalom and Temple Sinai offered a joint service at Temple Sinai at 10 A.M. Wednesday and we decided to go. We left the house just after eight Wednesday morning and almost made it to the service on time. Sinai is on Forbes Avenue in Squirrel Hill. A beautiful Gothic-style stone mansion was preserved as  part of the temple. The main sanctuary has clerestory abstract stained glass windows in a semi-circle, dark blue at the ends and bolder yellows and oranges in the middle, symbolizing the move from dawn to dusk. With the two congregations combined, there were about fifty people there, plus five rabbis and two women cantors, both with gorgeous voices. One of the rabbis, a young woman, was in school the first year of rabbi training with Joe in Jerusalem. Congregants took turns reading from The Book of Ruth in English, with the words projected on screens above the altar. We loved being observers of a traditional Reform service, and being a part of the community.

The congregation provided a dairy lunch of cheese blintzes, a spinach-tomato casserole, salad and fruit. We sat with one of the rabbis and some couples we had not met before. One of the women mentioned Baltimore Hebrew Congregation, so I asked her if she grew up in Baltimore, as I did, and where she went to high school? We played Jewish geography and it turned out that her sister was in my class in eighth and ninth grades at Sudbrook Junior High. I remembered her and her sister and I  talked about people we both knew, quite a few, as it turned out.

We drove home and I crashed out for an hour and a half. The Chabad rabbi had invited us to their sanctuary for a service and meal Wednesday afternoon. Chabad is black-hat religious, and although we are different from them theologically, Zalman and Hindy, the couple who run Chabad here, have included us in events and we like them and admire what they do, even if we don't do it. They have a new baby, a girl, I think their fifth (I've lost track) and she was introduced to us, spitting up on her father. Rabbi Zalman placed a table in the middle of the room, put plastic plants on it to create a barrier, and the men stood on one side, women on the other. He chanted the ten commandments to us in Hebrew at lightning speed, left us alone for a brief silent memorial service, then we broke for dinner: blintzes, cheese casserole, ice cream, bagels and lox.

I spoke with another Chabad couple, he all in black with an untrimmed beard, she in a long skirt and a stylish wig. He is a cousin of Zalman's, and they had come to visit with their children. She told me they live in Long Beach, California. I told her that we had met a Chabad rabbi from Long Beach, when he came to Crescent City to certify that our local cheese factory was kosher. She asked if we meant Nechemiah Newman  (we did!) and she said she is his niece. More "small world" stuff.

I had told Joe we had to leave Chabad early so I could make it to the 7 P.M. Suncrest Neighborhood Association meeting. Suncrest is the neighborhood I will be representing on City Council, and the school superintendent was to speak about the lately-vacated primary school, an issue. Sometime at Chabad, I realized that being with people on a Jewish holiday was more important than a meeting. I showed up anyway, late , after the superintendent had left. Still there were things I learned at the meeting, and I was greeted by many people, and had a chance to introduce myself. That felt good, too. It's all about balancing things. Yes, I'm a Libra.

Meanwhile, I'm preparing for our Friday night study session. At Osher Life-Long Learning, I just finished teaching a course for seniors called "The Great Hits of 1963." I agreed to teach a half-hour class Friday night focusing on Jewish songwriters and performers from that time. Stop by Tree of Life at 6:30 for dinner, service and learning. Rabbi Joe is cooking macaroni and cheese with broccoli.

I was worried our holiday wouldn't be meaningful, but it was. We were both able to worship and socialize with a larger Jewish community, and I feel, more than ever, that Joe and I  are exactly where we should be.