Words by Ted

So I haven't blogged in a while. I'm not sure how I feel about it and I could produce a list of excuses, some valid, some not. Either way, it's a new year so we all get a fresh start!

Last week a friend of my mother's was staying over our house. A family member of hers had passed away and the funeral was in Jersey. Since she lived in Delaware, she stayed over for a few nights to get everything straightened out and so she didn't have to travel far for the service. She was having a host of other family problems as well, which I won't get into, but let's just say she was having a really bad week.

The morning of the funeral, as one can imagine, the mood in the house was somber. As her, her husband, and my mother were getting ready to go to the service and funeral, I was getting ready for work and the library. She called up to me from downstairs, "Hey Teddy, would you mind if we said a Mi Sheberach before we go?" For those of you that do not know, the Mi Sheberach is a prayer you say for someone who is sick or is in need of uplifting of some sort. It is a powerful prayer, one of the few that I find personally meaningful and have a spiritual connection to. Thanks to Debbie Friedman, her version has become a staple of almost every Reform and Conservative synagogue's liturgy (Click Here to hear a version of the song).

So I sang the version of the hymn I know. I could hear my mother's friend crying downstairs and when I went down there to give her a hug, I saw how emotional it had made her. 

After everyone left and I was on my way to work, I started to think a little bit more about what had just happened. My mother's friend is more strict than I when it comes to practicing and I am positive she knew the song. Her husband as well I'm sure was familiar with it. She did not need me to lead her through the song, she could have sang it on her own had she wanted to. Clearly though, she did not. She turned to me, a man who she has seen grow up from birth, to help her. It's difficult to explain in text what this meant to me.

From this experience I have learned three things. Firstly, the power of words. Anyone who has watched the news recently or kept up with the bullying scandals around the country (most notably that which occurred at Rutgers University) knows just how harmful words can be. Alternatively, they can be just as uplifting as destructive. I cannot imagine what my mother's friend is going through, but I do realize that the "thank you" I received after singing that song was heartfelt and sincere. Those particular words, if only for a moment, brought some relief to a women who was suffering drastically. Second, I was reminded just how much I've grown up in the past two to three years. This woman has seen me through all the stages of life, even those in which I am not that proud of. For her to reach out to me shows me just how much maturing I have done recently. 

Lastly, and most importantly, it reaffirmed for me, once again, that Jewish leadership is something I want to be a part of my future. As a Jewish Studies major and someone involved with the Jewish community, I regularly get asked "Jewish questions". They range from questions about history and philosophy to halakhah and practice to my own beliefs about God. Personally, I love answering them. I love talking about the thing I most passionate about. However, this situation was a bit different. I provided for someone an experience, a meaningful, impactful, JEWISH experience that helped them in some way. Whether is was to help her cope or simply a distraction for a moment, I provided for her the experience she wanted and needed at that particular moment in her life. It felt good inside to help someone, an adult who has known me my whole life, and who has helped me so many times before. One should never wish the death of a loved one on anyone, but when that situation does arise, always remember that sometimes words (or in this case a song) can mean all the difference.

Holiday Time- by Maya

Hello everyone!! Apologies for Ted and I being lame again this month...we were both busy working on our applications for HUC! Ted's is in and mine is practically done! Very exciting.


Anyways, in my return to blogging I want to discuss wintertime in the United States. Immediately after Thanksgiving (and sometimes even before) we hear Christmas carols everywhere we go, see pine trees spring up all around us, and even experience different cups at Starbucks. It seems as though winter time and Christmas time have become practically interchangeable. Usually I am indifferent to the Christmas cheer all around me- I feel like its not completely my culture, that I am a separate entity from it since I don't celebrate the holiday that drives all of the excitement. This year, I allowed myself to engage a little more than usual with this phenomenon. I realized that, despite being slightly uncomfortable because I got the feeling I was supposed to celebrate Christmas just because it was wintertime, I like the concept of holiday cheer. Its ok to be happy for no reason, to rejoice in ones good fortune and think about all the good things in ones life, and if the season of Christmas is what motivates people to do so, who am I to judge? I feel like during the time between Thanksgiving and New Years, people smile more, and are kinder to strangers. Things seem to have magical airs about them. While in previous years I automatically associated all of this with a holiday I don't observe, this year I allowed myself to get caught up in it too. It can be a wonderful time of year, even if I don't believe in Jesus.


I think one of the things that helped me gain this insight was that Hanukkah fell during Christmas this year. When people wished me Happy Holidays, I could genuinely thank them instead of feeling weird that I had no holiday but had to smile and wish them the same anyway. Plus, when strangers wish me Merry Christmas, I can genuinely say "Merry Christmas to you", as I want them to have a nice time even if I won't be stuffing a stocking or waiting for Santa. 


However, something funny happened to me this year: three of my friends, one of whom is a very close friend of mine, wished me a Merry Christmas, two in response to a mass text  I sent out to all my Christmas-celebrating friends, and one on his one accord. While strangers wishing me a Merry Christmas is slightly weird but not unexpected, friends who have been aware for years that I'm Jewish wishing me a Merry Christmas was downright strange and uncomfortable. These are friends who know I want to be a Rabbi, and have even been present when I've led mini Shabbat services. These particular Christmas greetings only heightened the feeling I get each year when I feel like society expects me to celebrate Christmas just because its winter, and because the majority of the population celebrates it. When I wrote back to them stating that I don't celebrate Christmas, they responded with Hanukkah greetings instead. While that was nice because it was indeed Hanukkah at the time, what happens when the two holidays don't fall at the same time? I didn't mean to be rude or make them equally as uncomfortable as I was by telling them that I don't celebrate, but it just felt really weird to accept well-wishes for something I wasn't doing. It also feels weird that a large portion of the population, which, in all fairness, doesn't know any better, equates Christmas with Hanukkah just because they happen to fall at the same time of year. But that's not a problem that can be easily solved with a text message.


Moreover, I happened to be visiting my Grandma in Florida at the time, and my family and I were invited to Christmas dinner at my mom's cousins' house. These cousins happen to be Jewish. However, their entire house was decorated for Christmas, complete with a tree, lights, and even Santa and reindeer-themed place-cards at the table.  (If they served ham for dinner I was going to walk out, but luckily it was turkey).  For me, this crossed the line from making me uncomfortable into making me sad. Not only do members of my extended family not consider themselves Jewish, but they celebrate Christmas! My fourteen year old cousin (who, sadly, did not become a Bat Mitzvah last year), was talking to me about the holidays. "You celebrate Hanukkah, right?" she said to me. "I celebrate Christmas. But I celebrated Hanukkah once, in like third grade". I didn't even know how to respond to that. I wanted to tell her how she's Jewish, how there's so much in her heritage that she was missing out on, but I was so shocked at this that I couldn't think of how to respond.  Its the same way I feel when I see Jewish friends of mine not really care about the holidays, or about going to synagogue. That's why I'm so insistent on showing my friends how meaningful my religion can be for me, on doing Shabbat with them and discussing all the holidays. I want to show them that religion doesn't have to be words on a page, but can be a way of life, a set of values, a community, and a consistent force to ground you throughout life. (Can you tell I've been writing application essays about this stuff?!?)


Anyway, at the party, happily,  they did have a menorah, and asked my brother to light it. I helped him, and lead the blessings. It turned out that everyone my cousins had invited was Jewish, and they all knew the blessings even better than my cousins did! One of their family friends even requested that we do the Shehecheyanu, so I led that too. That made me happy; at least my cousins associated with Jews, even if they didn't act like them! 


I don't really know what to take away from all this, but I'm glad I can take a step back and reflect on it. As a (hopeful) future Jewish leader, experiencing these situations, while uncomfortable for me at the time, gives me an even wider range of occurrences and lessons learned that I can use for my personal edification and potentially teach about one day. This year, I strove to continue the process of balancing the holiday cheer all around me, with maintaining my Jewish roots, being open-minded to the culture I live in while holding on to my interpretation of my religion. And isn't that what Reform Judaism is all about?

A Very Jersey Shabbat- by Maya

A week ago this past Friday (sorry for being so slow to put up the post, but Happy belated Thanksgiving, everyone!) a fellow NATE intern Michael and I made the trek to New Jersey to celebrate Shabbat at Ted's home congregation, Temple Sholom. The congregation immediately felt very homey: the service was in a small but cozy chapel, and everyone who passed by us wished us Shabbat Shalom, of course greeting Ted especially enthusiastically as he is beloved by all who go there!


This visit definitely emphasized what I have known all along about different congregations, that even ones that belong to the same movement of the same religion can have unique elements that distinguish them from similar congregations. Temple Sholom was, I think, the most similar to my home congregation out of all the synagogues I've been to in recent memory. Both places are warm and welcoming, with a strong sense of community. The services include plenty of English, with both Rabbis clearly passionate about what they are saying and directly engaging with the congregation in an interactive and meaningful way (and not just saying that because both of them are followers of this blog!!) However, despite numerous similarities, there are still very definite differences between the two places.


The most notable difference to me was the lack of instrumental accompaniment to the prayers we sang. Ted and I have discussed the use of music in services fairly frequently; while I enjoy it for the most part and feel as though it is almost essential in the Reform services I attend, I know that he is not a fan. The experience was interesting to me though, because many of the melodies at Temple Sholom were the ones that are used in my home congregation, and it felt strange to be singing them without piano or guitar in the background holding everything and everyone together. I feel that music would have added something to many of the songs and enhanced the prayer experience, but I can assume from the conversations that Ted and I have had that it would not have had the same effect for him. It is intriguing how congregations that are so alike can go down separate roads and establish such different traditions that, in turn, influence how their members perceive assorted aspects of Jewish practice. I wonder, if the congregation in which I grew up did not use music in its services, would I still feel as though music was an important part of Shabbat? I'd still like music outside of temple, clearly, but would a service still feel incomplete without it?


Another major difference is that at Temple Sholom, they chant Torah every Friday evening. When Ted first told me this, I wasn't sure how I felt about it, as at my congregation Torah is usually chanted on Friday evenings only for a special occasion. However, I found that I really enjoyed having a brief Torah service as part of my Shabbat evening experience. Often, I do not experience the Torah portion of the week or hear commentary on it, and doing so during the service definitely enhanced my Shabbat and prompted learning and self-reflection. To Ted, it was natural that the Torah would be read, but to Michael and I it was not, as that is not what we are used to. Ted also told us that it is customary at his congregation to wear tallit on Friday night, and while that practice was unfamiliar to me as well, I know that he gains meaning from it.


It was a very interesting experience to be in an environment that was so comparable to the one I am used to, yet established these certain different practices and traditions. It was definitely a real-life example for the concentration I created for myself in college, "Religion and Theater as Text and Interpretation", in which I studied how individuals and communities take the same texts and make them their own throughout time. One might think that Reform congregations of similar sizes with similar environments would celebrate Shabbat in the same ways, but clearly each community practices in its own way.  Even the base of the service differed: my congregation created and uses its own siddur (prayerbook), while Ted's uses the Reform siddur but made its own song book that we also read from during the service. However, the order of the service, the melodies and the prayers said were practically the same. While each group has its own customs, ultimately we are united through the words our people have been saying for thousands of years. This also relates to the conversation we had after services about Klal Yisrael, which Ted mentioned in his previous post...I'm sure we will get to that in more depth at some point. 


Attending Shabbat services at Temple Sholom provided me a window through which I could see a community very similar to my own observe Shabbat in its own special way, a way that has influenced its members and become significant to them. It was very interesting to see first-hand the congregation Ted comes from, as I have been hearing about it for almost a year now! I think it is very special to be a part of a place that is so beloved, and that has shaped many lives in a profound way. The Shabbat we attended also happened to be an evening honoring long time members of the congregation, and I could see that, though the community is relatively small, each person was very happy to be there, and to have contributed to the synagogue in his or her own unique way throughout many years of membership. My congregation uses the phrase "makom shelibi oheyv", "the place that my heart holds dear" to describe itself, and, despite the differences in the service, that phrase could definitely be applied to Temple Sholom, as well.




Temple Sholom (Reform Jewish congregation)
Located at: 74 South Martine Avenue, Fanwood, NJ 07023
Telephone: 908-889-4900
Service lead by: Rabbi Joel N. Abraham, with singing assistance from lay choir member standing in for Student Cantor

A Time for Thanks by Ted

Over the last week or so, I have been reminded time and time again just how lucky I am. With Thanksgiving just a day behind us, I think a little reflection is in order.


A week ago, I had my friend and co-creator of this blog Maya, as well as another mutual friend Michael, come in from the city to Jersey to celebrate Shabbat. This was the first time they have come into Jersey, as opposed to me going into the city. It was also the first time they have seen my community and my temple. After the service (Maya will talk about the service experience I believe. I thought it would be a little biased coming from me), we had our usual discussion, what we liked/didn't like about the service, what could have gone better or what was weird, just a regular, post-service talk. As inevitably happens when you combine friends and drinks, we got loud and began to stray from our service discussion to what I have begun to believe is the real reason we get together every few weeks, philosophy/theology and the beliefs about our Judaism. That night's topic, klal Yisrael. The content of that discussion is for another day. There is, however, something else I felt, not completely until we said our goodbyes, that I have been compelled to share.


You see, growing up, and really throughout my entire life up until recently, I never had many Jewish friends. While I was friendly with the kids in my Confirmation class, it was never a social circle I was engaged with outside of the classroom. When I went off to college, I never joined Hillel or any groups or activities. And when I came back to New Jersey from a freshman year in Boston, I picked back up with my friends from high school who I have grown to love. And while, my closest group of friends are beyond loyal and I wouldn't trade them for anything in the world, none of them are Jewish (most are anti-religion all together), and because of such I think they don't always understand what I am doing or why I am doing it. There is a certain communicative and cultural difference that, while they love to argue with me on issues of theology and such, we are divided by. 


That is where Maya and Michael have recently been so awesome. I have never really had a friendship like the ones I have with them. Meeting at the NATE conference, all three of us share common interests, life experiences, and aspirations I have never really shared with anyone before. While I am extremely grateful and eternally indebted to people like my Rabbi and mentor/boss Michelle, there is something altogether different about having connections like this with someone your own age. I have people who I can bounce ideas off of, who will question my ideas and beliefs with their own, and who will push me to think about things in ways I never have before. 


So, in that spirit, I thought of a fun activity for my students to do last Monday. I provided them with the following article about Thanksgiving and Judaism, taken from Ha-Eretz, an Israeli newspaper (click here). It is a really interesting piece about the values of Thanksgiving and how they intertwine with Jewish values, mainly gratitude. In the classroom, we discussed the article, what it meant, and how the students felt about Thanksgiving. Later on, I had them make thank you cards to people they feel they appreciate, but don't always acknowledge. As you can imagine, it was a really great activity. The students were engaged and thoughtful, everyone making a thank you card to someone who deserved it. There is one student who asked if he could stay a few minutes late in order to finish his card. When he did, I almost cried when I read it. I'm paraphrasing here, but it went something like this... "I want to say thank you to my mom and my dad and my family. Even though we don't always get along and fight sometimes, I love you guys very much. I am very grateful to have you in my life." This, from a 6th grader, is a more heartfelt expression of emotion than many adults are capable of. 


Judaism teaches us to look to our past. To see those that have come before us, to recognize the sacrifices they have made for us, and to rejoice in those sacrifices with gratitude and love. I don't think we honestly take the time to do this. Even if it's a simple thank you, sometimes that is all it takes. So, with all of my heart, I want to say thank you to all of my friends, family, colleagues, and individuals in my life who have sacrificed something, whether it be time, money, or energy, to help me become the person I am today. I love you all very much and am very grateful for what you have done for me. And if you can, I implore you, take the opportunity to thank those around you. I promise, they won't soon forget it.

Jew Jokes- by Maya

This week, I went to a comedy show. It was advertised as funny stories about people in their twenties, and when we got there it was announced that the theme was home and family.  However, during the show I noticed another theme, and my observations were confirmed during a post-show de-briefing with my friend: it seemed as though the most prevalent jokes were ones about religion, primarily Judaism. Practically all of the seven people who spoke had made a joke about Jews at one point or another during their monologues. I was slightly confused as to why, as Judaism wasn't blatantly part of the topic about which everyone was supposed to be speaking. And obviously there are a lot of funny topics one could speak about relating to ones twenties, home and family without making fun of Judaism in the process.


Jew jokes have, for some reason, become very prevalent in our culture. Last night, I was sitting around with some friends and watching Netflix (so cool, I know) and in one of the shows we watched someone mentioned, completely randomly, how he had attended another character's Bar Mitzvah, then said "L'chaim!" I again wondered about this use of Judaism in a context in which there was no overt reason to reference it, but someone chose to use it to facilitate a laugh. Why did the writer feel it necessary to bring a Bar Mitzvah into the dialogue? Weren't there other things that might have been more funny to the show's audience? This joke wasn't offensive, but, again, I was just confused about the use of Jewish concepts when there didn't seem to be a specific reason to bring Judaism into the picture. I guess one could say that about any joke, but for a culture in which the young people largely seem to be shying away from the idea of organized religion, to make numerous Jew jokes in things geared towards those people seems slightly odd.


I suppose that there is definitely a positive side to the fact that lots of people in mainstream culture enjoy laughing about Jewish-related things. Its fabulous that a writer would assume that practically everyone knows what a Bar Mitzvah is. I like the idea that modern Jews can be a natural part of society, that our customs and symbols are well-known and embraced by Jews and gentiles alike. However, sometimes hearing those jokes makes me a little uncomfortable; one girl's monologue at the comedy show revolved around how she picked up an Orthodox Jew at a bar. It was a funny story, yes, but parts of it made it seem as though her beliefs were the only ones that mattered, and his weren't valid at all. Is there a subtle line regarding jokes about religion that frequently gets crossed? I think that line is difficult to define, and varies from person to person.


A year ago, I went on a college students' retreat to Hebrew Union College in Cincinnati, the theme of which was Jews in popular culture. One class that I took stands out as a particular moment of significance from that weekend, as it brought up a lot of questions and ideas about Jews in television that I've been thinking about ever since then. The class used the TV show Glee, and the Jews represented on it, as a springboard for the wider topic of how Jews are represented in culture, and whether those representations are good or bad. We discussed how, like I've mentioned above, it can be a good thing that Jews are so widely known and accepted as part of American culture. However, we asked, does this positive aspect outweigh the fact that by representing Jews in a certain way and saying certain things about them, TV writers reinforce certain stereotypes about Jews and typical ideas about what Jews do? Glee is a good example of many different stereotypes that exist about Jews: the lead, Rachel, is your "typical" short, brown-haired, big-nosed whiner who always wants to be the center of attention. Puck, the "bad boy" of the show, makes jokes about eating pork products with his family. Artie is a be-spectacled nerd whose Judaism is never discussed, and Tina's last name is Cohen-Chang but her Judaism is never brought up either. Jacob Ben-Israel, a more minor character who hosts a television show, has a "Jew-fro", a strong Hebrew name, and uses a microphone decorated with Stars of David. This exposure of Judaism to a large demographic is great, yes- but is this necessarily the best way to represent our people?


I don't really have answers to any of my questions, but I enjoy exploring these ideas. I do know that sometimes I can be over-sensitive to jokes that target me personally; maybe I am just taking all of these Jew jokes too much to heart, and I should be happy that Judaism and contemporary culture seem to go so well together. All groups are stereotyped at one point or another, so perhaps I should even be happy that mine gets so much attention. Yet I can't help but feel a twinge of confusion and frustration when I see certain stereotypes perpetuated over and over. My Judaism is special to me, and I feel like its not being fairly represented when people lump it together with Orthodoxy, or Rachel Berry.

Top Biblical Personalities in Your Workplace...stolen by Ted

Hey all. I've been super occupied with studying for the GREs, which I take tomorrow (wish me luck!!). However, I didn't want you to think I forgot about you. A friend of mine posted this on her Facebook page. She got it from "The Weekly Bang", which is an orthodox mailing list/website, so all credit goes to them. Pretty funny stuff!! 


Top Biblical Personalities in Your Workplace
Adam – The first hire, got in trouble for eating something from the office fridge that was forbidden. Been demoted to grunt work ever since.

Noah - that guy who brings his pet to work. 

Abraham – Considered a pioneer in the field, founded the company through much family sacrifice

Moses - Left his current less desirable situation and brought his staff with him. Had to split the place after they worked him like a slave

Pharaoh - CEO whose ego plagues the company and eventually has to let people go

David - Somehow wins pitch over Goliath competitor and overnight becomes the reigning king of the office

Joshua – Completed the full corporate takeover of Canaan and expanded the office locations countrywide

Joseph - Dreams of being star CEO, and is annoyingly public about it. His clothing is flamboyant, but he sure is a charmer.

Potiphar's Wife – The first sexual harassment claim in the workplace

Ahashveirosh – The boss who sends emails and makes major decisions when sleepless at 2AM

Jonah - Swallowed by a whale of a project, hasn't been seen in months

Tamar - The office harlot, who somehow brings integrity to those around her

Shaul – Delusional CEO who doesn't believe he has just been replaced

Korah - Occupy Wall St.

Cain & Abel - Duo who always seem to being going to lunch/smoke breaks together, that is, until one had the other axed

Solomon – Ladies' man who built his cubicle into a Temple

Leah – Even after developing most of the future of the company, still feels second class to her arch nemesis Rachel

Ruth - Only employee who volunteered to stay with the company even after the rough merger

Sarah – She laid off Hagar... for the good of the company.

Mordechai – As a consultant, his stubbornness and insider information helped save the company from disaster

Pinchas – Zealously took on corporate corruption and won

Bilam –Consultant/Contractor brought in to crush the competition, ended up being a loose canon

70 Zikainim –The board of directors

Isaac - Only has his job cause his father Abraham started the place



ps. Dont worry, I had to look a couple of them up myself 

Jews with Toos by Ted

Hey all. So October was a pretty bad month. Maya and I hardly posted anything (aka I posted nothing). I'm not sure why that is, but we will try our best to stay on top of our blogging and keep the juices flowing.

With that said, about a week ago I got a text from a friend asking me if I would like to be interviewed by a fellow Rutgers student for a paper she is writing on Jews with tattoos. Having two tattoos myself, pursuing a life in Jewish professionalism, and being involved in the Jewish community, I felt like I'd be an excellent interviewee. Plus, I just like to talk about Judaism and topics like this, so I thought it would be, at the very least, fun for me.

So I met the girl yesterday and had the interview. It was fun, we had a 20 minute conversation about the subject and I'll hopefully get to see the paper when she is done with it in a few weeks. But I wanted to offer you guys my opinion on the subject, why I feel that way, and what my tattoos are and what they mean to me.

As I'm sure you can imagine, I am perfectly fine with Jewish people getting tattoos. The idea that we aren't allowed to get tattoos is derived from Lev. 19:28, where it says "You shall not...incise any marks on yourselves: I the LORD am your God." It was common practice for pagans to tattoo themselves with markers of their gods, and to differentiate themselves from those pagans, Jews were required not to get tattoos. Within ten lines of v.28, we receive the commandments not to grow more than 1 type of plant in any specific field and not to wear clothing made from two types of cloth. Like these latter commandments, the one regarding tattooing oneself seems to me a bit archaic, as I am clearly not a pagan (for those who were wondering).

So, with the Bible based reasoning out of the way, why do I have tattoos? Well, for me, a tattoo is just another mode of expression, like poetry or painting. They are an expression and reminder of who I am and who I was at the time. They are also only one part of who I am. Just like being male, or a person who lives in New Jersey, or even a Jew, they are just one facet of the thing called Ted.

Before describing my tattoos, I should add a little caveat. I have a rule for myself when getting tattoos. I make myself wait about 3 years after coming up with the idea before actually getting the tattoo. The first one I got I waited 4 years before actually getting it and the second one I sat on for 3 years. They weren't an impulsive decision, rather one I contemplated and envisioned for quite a long time.

I have two tattoos. The first one is this...

For those of you who cannot read Hebrew, it says "Nizkor" or "We shall remember". It is one my right side rib cage. To me, this one has a few different meanings. Firstly, the Nizkor project (nizkor.org) is a Holocaust Remembrance project. After going on my Confirmation trip during my sophomore year in high school and visiting a few of the concentration camps, I this idea became particularly meaningful to me. Secondly, it is a reminder of my uncle, who died at a very young age. While he  would have hated the fact that I have a tattoo, it none the else is another way for me to remember one of the greatest human beings to ever live. And lastly, it is a constant reminder to stay ground and remember who you are and where you came from.

My second tattoo I had done less than two weeks ago! Here it is...

This one says "Luminous beings are we, not this crude matter" and is located on my back left shoulder. As you can also see, there is a ship underneath and all of you Star Wars fans will recognize it as Bobba Fett's ship, Slave 1. This one is a bit easier to explain. The Slave 1 is there for one simple reason, it's bad-ass. Anyone who knows me knows I am a huge Star Wars fan and the Slave 1 is by far the coolest ship in all of Star Wars. The quote, which is spoken by Yoda to Luke while he is training on Dagoba, is meant to originally help explain the power behind The Force. I like to think of it in the same context. We are not simply the amalgamation of atoms and cells that form our body and organs, but much more than that. There is mystery that surrounds human existence and the human experience that we simply do not understand or even readily perceive.

I'm sure no one is surprised by my take on Jews with tattoos. I understand some people don't like the way they look or that the stigma that surrounds them is still prevalent, but I'm not too concerned. If you find the tattoo to be a beautiful piece of art or has particular meaning to you, then I think you should go for. Mine make me happy and that's all I really care about.