Not being jaded

Feeling sort of lucky today that though things can be frustrating and I am tired (!)- I'm not really jaded. Which means I honestly think things can be fixed and that it is worth trying.

I had a friend in Berlin who used to say that he believed half of the men he passed on the street would want to kill him of they could- not literally, but he felt this deep competition/hatred/ sense that our lives are a zero sum game with winners and losers.

I remember being shocked because I was under the impression often when I took walks that people would smile if you caught their eye. For no reason at all. Just human solidarity. A pleasant acknowledgement....

I've retained that base trust in our world.  It isn't that I haven't seen bad things and know about much worse. But I think things don't need to be bad. There are ways to inspire people to be better.

I think schools can be fixed, housing, basic levels of respect for people can be achieved, community can be strengthened, resources can be saved, values can be improved in our personal lives, etc etc.

In the end, I'm grateful for that belief and worldview. I think it gives me strength.

Seeing real change

This is a great model -- and a vehicle for leaving something good behind.

Reprinted from the JDC blog - jdc.org


In Argentina, a JDC Model of Local Empowerment

In recent years, it’s come into fashion to press social service providers – whether government or non-profits – on the long-term sustainability of their efforts to improve the lives of people in need.

The question is acute when we think of philanthropic dollars: How can we ensure that limited resources are maximized and that donors understand the incredible ability of their funds to make real and lasting change?

 

For JDC, our work in Argentina is a case study and a story that should be more widely appreciated.

Until 2001, Argentina’s approximately 240,000 Jews were largely middle-class, hailing primarily from Eastern Europe and the Middle East in the early 1900s and, more recently, mainland Europe as Jews sought refuge from the ravages of World War II.

 

Honest, but gentle

How's this for a Mother's Day poem?

I see my mom cooking.

I taste her yummy turkey.

I touch her long black hair.

I hear my mom say, "Stop it!"

I smell the cake that she made for my birthday.

I'm grateful that the criticisms are couched gently. 

Jewish idealism

At today's Yom Ha'atzmaut (Israeli Independence Day) ceremony at work, I was so moved by how moved everyone was.

People spoke with tears about how meaningful it is to have the day of celebration following immediately on the day when Israel remembers those who have fallen. They spoke passionately about their continued resolve to work for a strong and decent Israel, one the exemplifies the highest ideals.

It's late and I need to be short, but today I wanted to pay tribute first to the existence of the State of Israel, the miracle of the rebirth of an extinct language, the incredible Jewish journey in the 30s and 40s from annihilation to building a new state and a new Jew, and a country today that has so many wonderful people, so much incredible beauty and talent.

I also am grateful for the strong vein of idealism that runs through so much Jewish activism, including the American Jewish passion for Israel. For almost a decade and a half I've been working in an arena where many people view their work as a life project and not a job, one connected with their history and their aspirations both.

Why be grateful?

Why be grateful?

There's also a lot to be frustrated about, upset, even heartbroken.

Being grateful is a way of remembering all that we have nevertheless.

It's a good way to put the little things in perspective and try to get the bigger things in view.

But I don't want my Grateful blog to signify complacency either. In fact, could being grateful actually straighten our backs when things threaten those core "right" things?

I read an interesting movie review by Bilge Ebiri, a former classmate, in which he speaks about the social/political nihilism of our time. It's the phenomenon of not really thinking anything matters that much, or having given up on all. I see very few movies, but even I have recognized the theme of self-loathing and it's clearly one that resonates with our time. 

I think this blog is about trying to stand firmly FOR something.

What?

Here's a try, based on seeing the relations between themes I've chosen so far. (But I'd like help on articulating this.)

The desire for a stronger connection to the goods we enjoy (heat, water... ) - because appreciation heightens pleasure. It's a stance against being spoiled!

An interest in deeper human interactions (dance, games, no agenda conversations) to more fully connect us. A stance against commodification of relationships! 

An appreciation for real gains that our society has made (men cooking, unhindered voting, our physical security) and a vote for values of Enlightenment and democracy.

Heat

It's amazing how quickly 'having gratitude' turns into 'taking for granted.' I'm really interested in the basic question of how to hold onto that gratitude, and the corresponding joy and perspective that comes with it.

Heat is a good case study for me. Over the last week plus, our building has been doing major pipe work and we have had no heat. It's been a cool spring, and we've been kind of cold inside- wearing sweaters and socks, drinking lots of tea, and on a chilly rainy recent day, going to bed early to get under the warm covers. 

When I lived in Berlin in 1995, I had to heat my apartment using a coal oven. That meant schlepping huge buckets of coal up from a tiny cellar, trying to place the individual bricks in a fire-friendly formation, lighting the whole contraption, and praying... that it would actually catch fire in the oven, burn through, and subsequently warm the tiles, which would in turn radiate heat into the room. 

I think it's pretty obvious that I wasn't much good at this, and my apartment, which was my first independent one and which I absolutely adored, had the added disadvantage in winter of being on the ground floor. That meant no one heated below me either, and my floors were ice cold as a result. 

Berlin has long, dark and wet winters, and my apartment was always cold and damp. A dear friend visited and wore a full sweat suit, scarf, hat, two feather blankets, and towels on top of her to bed every night and was bitterly cold nonetheless.

My boyfriend, now husband, knew how to do the coal burning thing well, but had a bathroom that didn't have an oven or a heating unit of any sort. He was on the top floor if his building and the cold air came from every side and the roof. Going to his bathroom on a cold winter night took an unbelievable amount of courage, and I often literally ran there in preparation when I finally capitulated.

And of course, those youthful, and very memorable adventures, were nothing compared to the stories of so many people who have to endure cold in much worse conditions and over much longer stretches of time.

Elderly people are among the most vulnerable. In my current building in recent weeks, those who are home bound have had a very hard time.

And that doesn't hold a candle in turn to stories that I've become acquainted with at JDC-- of elderly people, Jews, in Ukranian villages who face an almost Siberian winter without running water and have to trudge to outside pumps, of leaky roofs and cold, damaged cement walls and outhouses. Not just for a few weeks, but for every winter of their lives...

It's miserable to be cold.. unless you are young I guess, and the situation is temporary. And then it's a good opportunity to be reminded of how wonderful and cozy it is to be warm again.