Finding My Hallelujah

Much has been said and written about young Jews feeling alienated from Judaism and Israel.  Much has been said and written about young people of all faiths feeling alienated from their families as they try to figure out who they are and if and how they fit in.

A few weeks ago I had a minor epiphany about all of this that I want to share with you.  One of those moments when the clouds part and you say to yourself, Gee, I think I’ve figured something out.

It didn’t happen outside, though, so I couldn’t actually see the clouds parting.  I was inside on our stationery bike, doing a Spin routine...

The very last song in the routine, just as I was about to give up, was a song I'd never heard before but subsequently discovered is quite popular.  It's called "Good to Be Alive," by Andy Grammer.

"Good to Be Alive"

It’s to music what snickers bars are to chocolate, really addictive.  And it actually gave me the oomph to finish the routine.

The premise is that someone who’s been down on his luck is experiencing a turnaround and the chorus is “I think I’ve finally found my Hallelujah!”  followed shortly thereafter by “Good to be alive right about now.”

When the routine was over I was thinking, Hmm.   Familiar concept.  Sounds a bit like She'heheyanu, the blessing where we thank God for being alive.

And for a brief endorphin-addled moment I considered singing the song with bar and bat mitzvah families on Shabbat mornings instead of reciting She’heheyanu. 

Of course there’s a difference between the I-infused “I think I’ve finally found my Hallelujah” and the us-ness of She’heheyanu.  Thank you for keeping us alive and sustaining us and enabling us to reach this sacred time. 

But the two are related.  And while I'll stick with the old-time religion when it comes to saying She’heheyanu, I will say this:

The success of the Jewish community moving forward will depend upon our ability to demonstrate that a connection with a strong, moral, responsive “We” is critical to producing a strong, moral, responsive “I.”  The more I feel connected to my family, my community and my people, the deeper, more sustainable and more sustaining my own Hallelujah will be.

Last week I referred to a sense, described in multiple recent articles, that younger people increasingly are feeling distant from Israel – less of a cultural connection than their grandparents had, more alienation from Israeli politics. 

Of course that varies from person to person.  But given that some of this is surely true for a sizable number of young people, I want to say that those who have visited Israel – through birthright and other programs – have discovered a strong affinity with Israelis their age.  No, they didn’t literally come from the same villages the way their grandparents and great-grandparents did, but there’s an affinity between American Jews and Israeli Jews that comes among other things from a shared sense of wanting to do good things in the world as Jews.

Case in point:  I recently posted to social media a statement released by the ADL calling for international condemnation of the bus bombing in Jerusalem earlier that week. A friend of mine observed that the world may be preoccupied with other horrible events, including the earthquake in Ecuador.  I responded that I imagined that if Israeli leaders had celebrated an attack against Palestinians the way Hamas celebrated this attack on Israelis, many world leaders would have found the time to condemn it despite the other horrible things that occurred that day.

What I thought but didn’t write was that speaking of Ecuador, it’s only a matter of time before Israeli groups send medics and relief workers to Ecuador to help out, the way Israel sent relief to Haiti, the way Israel is sending relief to Greek islands to help Syrian refugees.  

And sure enough, Isra-Aid, an Israeli humanitarian organization, dispatched relief teams to Ecuador a day later.

When young Israeli Jews and young American Jews recognize a shared commitment to doing good in the world as Jews, it helps each person to find his or her own Hallelujah.  The “we” that embraces American Jews and Israeli Jews in their response to all of humanity has the potential to strengthen each and every “I.”

Ideally, “we” also strengthens “I” on college campuses.  There are multiple ways for college students to experience community.  You may or may not know that college students are discovering Hillel Friday night services and dinners more and more.  Jewish students are increasingly finding that this shared communal experience is both grounding and inspiring.

The Shabbat experience at college, in the context of other meaningful activities, gives students a sense of belonging that refines their ability to engage insightfully in interfaith activities and to respond intelligently to a range of positive and negative issues that emerge in connection with Israel.

Connecting with a supportive and inspiring “we” helps to create a strong, grounded “I.”  

In a recent article, David Brooks wrote about the diminishment of the social fabric in society – of the web of relationships and obligations that bind people together, a web that he feels is growing weaker.  In "How Covenants Make Us," (NY Times, April 5, 2016) he wrote the following:

"You take away a rich social fabric and what you are left with is people who are uncertain about who they really are. It’s hard to live daringly when your very foundation is fluid and at risk."

Lastly, the family is perhaps the strongest source of individual identity and strength.  The Seder experience provides a template for how family should function if it is to provide a strong foundation.

The ethos of the intergenerational Seder gathering reflects an awareness that everyone, from infancy to old age, benefits enormously from knowing that there is a place at the family table – literally and metaphorically – no matter what. 

No matter the degree to which we struggle with belief in God, no matter how much we observe or don’t, no matter our politics, no matter whether we are successful financially or struggling, no matter our gender identity or sexual orientation, no matter who we’re dating or partnered with, we benefit in ways large and small from knowing that there is a place for us and the people we love at the table. 

With that support we have the strength to face many of life’s challenges.  Without it, life’s smallest tasks seem insurmountable.  None of this means that we have to love everything that every family member does – it means that no one gets exiled.  It means that everyone gets to sit at the table.

The strong “we” of family dots every “I” with a crown of fortitude. 

A few weeks ago, Deanna and I saw the play, “A Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night” about a teenage boy on the autism spectrum.  The show uses sound and staging to try to simulate what goes on inside this boy’s mind.  He has a web of adults who support him – some more successfully than others.  He manages to find success and love navigating certain extraordinary gifts and certain intense challenges.  At the very end of the play, he turns to his teacher who has in many ways been his lifeline and asks, "Does this mean I can do anything?”

And the play ends before she answers.  Possibly because at that point, whether he recognizes it or not, he has what he needs to answer the question.  Because the “we” of parents and teachers and classmates has helped him to craft an “I” that is ready to face the world  - with their support, but ultimately independently.

That’s true of each of us.  To the extent that we feel supported and animated by the “we” of people, community and family, we will be able to face each day with appropriate direction and strength.

Whenever we say She’heheyanu – thank you for keeping us alive – I want us to think about the resolve and direction that we get from our people, our community and our family.  So that each of us can feel and say, if we wish, “I’m well on my way to finding my Hallelujah.”

Originally shared with the Temple Israel of Great Neck community on the first day of Passover, April 23, 2016