Los Angeles Jewish Home

In some of my classes I have been discussing the subject of courage, following the recent Torah readings about the exodus from Egypt and the crossing of the Red Sea. Throughout that period the faith of the Israelites, that they can and will escape their Egyptian slave-masters and become a free people, swings wildly between moments of trust and confidence – Yes, God is on our side! – and times when they want only to remain slaves, for freedom is just too risky.

When the Israelites complain to Moses – Why don’t you leave us alone, to remain in Egypt as slaves? – they want to stay in the world they know, rather than take all the risks of freedom. Freedom carries the dignity of making choices, and the possibility of good and new things in our lives, but also it means we live without knowing what tomorrow brings. Willingness to face the uncertainties and the difficulties of life, as well as its possibilities, is what courage is all about. The alternative, in the words of one resident, is: Just give up, stay in bed, and pull the blankets over your head.

Does growing older call on us to have courage? A resident answered: Yes we need courage, because we never know what’s going to happen. Perhaps she was thinking about the sudden change in health she had recently gone through – without a negative word! Another resident told us her first words on waking each morning: No surprises today please!

It is not just the unknown. Some residents live in almost constant pain or discomfort; others get on as best they can despite physical difficulties. Most know the loneliness of life following the death of their long-time husband or wife. As I see how the majority of residents make the best of life without complaint, it strikes me that courage is indeed an important factor in making senior years a positive time of life. Here at the Home, the staff does a wonderful job in making the life of residents as comfortable, dignified and enjoyable as possible. What is sometimes overlooked is that the residents do a wonderful job too. For me, to see such courage is both humbling and inspiring.

The Torah expresses courage as faith in God. For instance, when the Israelites are facing the Red Sea, with the Egyptian army coming up behind them, they initially complain to Moses who tells them: Have no fear, stand by and watch how God will save you! While many people have courage which is not based on faith is God, there are others for whom faith can be a source of courage. Psalm 23 puts it: Though I walk in the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me. A sense that one is not alone can give great strength.

I have very great respect for those who came through years in the Nazi death camps or work camps. I know from my reading that not everyone kept their determination to survive; some just gave up. I am not surprised, so I asked the Holocaust survivors in my groups what gave them the courage to keep going. All without exception told me their faith was very important to them. One said his recitation of psalms sustained him. Another said she felt God by her side as she volunteered for work – which turned out to be her route to survival. Another said her religion was important to her, but she also believed a person’s childhood upbringing made a big difference. She herself had had a very poor childhood, and that difficult time gave her the strength she needed to face the enormous challenge of life in the camps. I understand that; although we all want an easy life, it is very often difficult experiences that strengthen us to face even greater challenges in the future.

We talked a little about the courage to face death. One resident was sad about the relative shortness of the time still left for her, wishing she had achieved more. But not one person expressed fear about the future.

Perhaps that is why I love being a rabbi at the Jewish Home: while I am no longer young myself, I work amongst my seniors and my teachers, who help me to think that maybe I too will be able to face all the uncertainties and hardships that lie ahead. For that I am grateful.

Labels: Aging, Bible, Courage, Death, Elman, For the Spirit, Holocaust survivors, Inspiring, Israelites, Jewish, Judaism, Letter from the Rabbi, Moses, Rabbi

A Poem by Ellis Simon, 87
Jewish Home Resident

To all the ladies at the JHA
The time has come for you to say
Come on guys, get off your duff
Then take our hand, as you huff and puff

When you take our hand, don't squeeze too much
The arthritis we have responds to touch
The tenderness you show, helps ease the pain
As we walk down the hall, you, me, and my cane

We get to the library, and sit side by side
As the real good feelings a try to hide
You whisper in my ear, but your words seem to fade
The battery went out in my hearing aid

You ask me to dance, I'm happy as can be
When you take me in your arms, it's heaven for me
You start to cough, and stick out your tongue
I guess it's too much for your one lung

We both get up, and go back to my room
You give me a peck, and my heart goes boom
You walk down the hall, I watch as you go
You say, "I'm a very happy lady, I now have a beau!"

Though i joke around, this is my wish for all
Then we would all be happy, and have a ball
Then our troubles would disappear
And everyone would be happy, I say hear, hear.

Labels: Aging, For the Spirit, Original, Poems, Residents, Seniors, Simon, Sweethearts Day, Valentine's Day

by Lee Rothman, M.Ed., M.A.

The health benefits of yoga for a growing senior population are too numerous to mention. We could almost say that yoga and meditation provide a foundation for the high quality of life we all seek in our elder years.

Through the regular breathwork and purposeful movement of yoga, we improve flexibility, joint health, muscle tone, and balance. And the list doesn’t stop there. Lower blood pressure, improved circulation, and better sleep all contribute to our well-being. The most recent research also points to multiple psychological and cognitive benefits, including a decrease in anxiety and depression, a greater sense of well-being, and improvements in attention, concentration, and memory.

These benefits have long been recognized by seniors at the Jewish Home, where yoga continues to be one of our most popular fitness programs. But yoga and meditation have equally important spiritual benefits which form an important part of the most rewarding practice.

From its origins in the second century, B.C.E, yoga and spirituality were considered inseparable. The Sanskrit word yoga has the literal meaning of ‘yoke’ or ‘union,’ suggesting the important connections of its physical, mental, and spiritual components.

Our Western perspective has largely emphasized the asanas, or physical postures, and pranayama, or breathing exercises. When appreciated as a comprehensive system through the practice of meditation, yoga expands to encompass the spiritual.

Spirituality, from a yogic perspective, embodies a relationship with something greater than we are — a source of being that we have come from. As such, the spirituality presented through yogic teachings easily complements our religious beliefs, whether we identify ourselves as Jewish, Christian, Hindu, Muslim, etc.

In yoga, we experience the spiritual by activating our awareness. That awareness comes with a practice that involves asanas, pranayama, and meditation. Asanas are the various postures one goes through in a yoga session, like the cobra pose, downward dog, and tree pose, to name a few. Asanas are designed to stretch muscle groups in your body and improve blood flow throughout the body. Joints and ligaments are lubricated, cholesterol is lowered, respiration improves, and your immune system is strengthened.

However, there is also a spiritual aspect of the asanas. Asanas are designed to take us through a range of experiences in the course of one yoga session. Since effort is required and stress may occur, practicing the asana teaches us how to maintain mindfulness in times of stress.

Mindfulness is a practice that enables one to live fully in the present moment. Your awareness is completely centered on the here and now. You are not worrying about the future or thinking about the past. If you are concentrating on these words, the present moment is all that exists and you are living where life is happening.

The meditation that is part of a comprehensive yoga practice may be as simple as sitting silently with eyes closed, focusing on the breath. Or it might involve chanting a mantra out loud with accompanying hand movements.

By cultivating mindfulness through meditation, you begin to enjoy your life just the way it is, not for how you want it to be in the future or for what it was in the past. This heightened acceptance of the present moment leads to a spiritual awareness, and with it, a greater enjoyment of your life.

A regular meditation practice enables one to pause and observe the ‘reactive’ aspects of our mind without taking action. It is as if we become a proverbial fly on the wall inside ourselves. Suddenly, we can observe our world and our responses to it, then decide how we want to act upon them. Meditation tends to foster more purposeful and thoughtful action, and less reaction. Some schools of yoga (notably Kundalini) take the view that the regular practice of asanas and pranayama prepares one to meditate.

So, how do we combine the physical aspects of yoga with those that foster spiritual development? And how does this marriage manifest itself in our behavior on a daily basis? (Many yogis refer to this as taking it “off the mat.”)

With a regular yoga and meditation practice, we learn to live our life with greater integrity, honesty and respect for ourselves and others. We understand that our words have power and affect others, so we choose them more carefully. We learn to treat ourselves and others with greater kindness and compassion.

We still feel angry, impatient, frustrated and hurt. However, with the regular practice of pranayama, we learn to take a breath or two before we respond. Yogic breathing helps to calm our mind and thoughts. We abandon damaging habits, and our thinking becomes more positive. We cease judging others so negatively, with the realization that we are no better than they are. As we develop a more extensive practice, we understand deeply the concept of the oneness of all life, and glimpse the highest attainment of our spiritual existence.

Labels: Asanas, Feature Articles, For the Spirit, Kundalini, Lee Rothman, Meditation, Pranayama, Staff, Yoga

The thoughts for this letter came to me while walking in a beautiful rainforest in Costa Rica. There are so many different kinds of trees in the forest, trees of all heights and kinds, and vines and creepers. And beneath those trees and vines and creepers, the ground is covered with fallen leaves, twigs, branches, whole tree-trunks … all part of the rich life of the forest.

In the midst of the towering trees and the fallen logs, it struck me that there is no clear distinction between what is alive and what is dead. Rather, there is an astonishingly complex pattern of interdependence and regeneration. The creatures and the plant life need each other, and the so-called “dead” branches and leaves are part of that pattern. They are far from useless: they provide home and nourishment to insects and small animals and other organisms, and gradually they break down to fertilize the soil, giving new growth, new life. In fact they are essential to the life and health of the new trees.

In that way, what is fallen seems as alive as the tall majestic trees. Certainly in the grand scheme of nature, the fallen, the “dead”, seem just as valuable. How odd that we human beings don't regard our dead as alive and valuable and nourishing! But that's exactly what they are.

In the Jewish tradition, we place great value on life: this life. It is not, as in some cultures, merely a preparation for a future life after death. This life, what we do in it, how we behave towards others, what we do to help bring about a better world – these are what count.

So once we die, do we become irrelevant to the rich pattern of life? Do we lose all value? That is how many people think about death, but I believe they are wrong. Just like those fallen trees and branches in the forest, what we have been in our lives will continue to affect those we leave behind, contributing to their lives.

Let me give an example. I continue to be inspired by the man I still regard as "my rabbi", several years after his death. He was a deeply spiritual man, who would speak and sing to God with all his heart and soul, but he combined that with a passion for changing the world for the good. His example taught me that spirituality – our relationship with God – has little value unless it is reflected in how we try to bring good unto the world. Like a great fallen tree in the forest, my rabbi continues to affect the lives of so many people who knew him or studied with him.

It is not just the “big” people in our lives (like parents and significant teachers) who make a lasting difference. Don’t you find that when someone shows trust in you, it adds to your confidence? Or when someone laughs at you, or treats you badly, it makes you feel smaller and less confident in the world? Just think back on the love your parents gave you, or some act of kindness or nobility shown by a friend – how that made you a better person. Whatever we do in our lifetimes affects others, and that effect remains after we have gone.

Where do these reflections lead me? On the one hand, I feel I must try to live up to the good bequeathed to me by so many who have gone before. After all, my life has been enriched enormously by countless people who are no longer alive – not just people I knew, but also people who died even before I was born, like all those men and women over the centuries who contributed to Jewish life and culture.

On the other hand, I think it’s important for me to be aware that every act of mine, for good or for bad – like a leaf on the floor of the rainforest – will continue to do its good or its bad long after my physical death.

I have come to realize that I want to leave behind a real (even if invisible) legacy for good in the lives of others. When my earthly life comes to an end, my hidden influence will continue. And I want that continuing influence to be for the good.

Don’t you feel the same way?

Rabbi Anthony Elman is the Skirball Director of Spiritual Life at the Jewish Home and also serves as Rabbi of the Home's Grancell Village campus. His professional background is multifaceted, encompassing the fields of law, social work, and psychotherapy. Rabbi Elman has been with the Home since his ordination and graduation from the Academy for Jewish Religion-California in May 2007

Labels: Costa Rica, Death, Ecosystem, Elman, Influence, Jewish, Judaism, Life, Rainforest

This afternoon I was entering the Eisenberg Campus by way of The Heart Walk when I noticed that the late autumn winds had blown leaves into the candle holders of the bronze Chanukiah sculpture in front of the Newman Building. As I was removing the leaves I couldn’t help but think that in just a few, short weeks I would be gathering with the residents each evening of the eight nights of Chanukah to kindle the candles that would shine from this exquisite piece of ritual Judaic art. As has been our tradition in years past, we will make the blessings together and sing Chanukah songs—in Hebrew, Yiddish, Ladino, and English—before the Chanukiah’s flickering lights. I will remind the residents, as I always do, that the Chanukah candles may not be used for any practical purpose but should only grace our Jewish Home with their illumination and inherent beauty. The lights will be a link for all of us, not only to the miracles of our people’s shared history in days of old, but to memories of Chanukahs celebrated in each one of our uniquely individual pasts…long ago childhood twirls of dreidels, sharing latkes or sufganiyot with our children, watching the candlelight illuminate the faces of our grandchildren and even great-grandchildren. And I, as the Rabbi of Eisenberg Village, will watch the golden glow from the bronze Chanukiah dance on the beautiful, wrinkled cheeks of our beloved Jewish Home residents and marvel at the miracle of their long and fruitful years. When most of them were children, Chanukah was not a time for expensive gifts or commercial competition. Their memories are filled with gifts of the senses: the sight of a spinning dreidel; the scent of hot oil and the taste of delicious fried Chanukah treats; and, above all, the warmth that only love of family, community, and shared heritage can bring to the dark and bitter chill of winter. These were the children that would, indeed, become members of “The Greatest Generation.”

And so, as I take these moments to prepare the bronze sculpture that will soon spring to life and light, I am already filled to overflowing with the anticipation of sharing another Chanukah with the residents I am blessed to serve at the Jewish Home. They are, indeed, a collective light to the nations of the world, shining a warm glow of inspiration to everyone who is lucky enough to bask in their glow. Just by being themselves, they stand as a miraculous symbol of their people’s tenacity and longevity. For me, being able to share the Festival of Lights with these precious souls for yet another year, is the greatest gift of all.

Rabbi Rita Hertzberg leads synagogue services and provides spiritual guidance and pastoral care and counseling for the resident community of the Jewish Homes Eisenberg Village Campus. Among her well-attended spiritual education and outreach programs are her weekly Judaism class and the popular “Get Together with Rabbi Rita.”

Labels: Candles, Chanukah, Chanukiah, Dreidel, Eisenberg Village, Family, Hanukkah, Hebrew, Hertzberg, holiday, Jewish Holiday, Judaism, Ladino, Latkes, Rabbi, Staff, Sufganiyot, Yiddish