If only I had a dollar for every time some one asked me why I became a rabbi...

During interviews for pulpits or talking to others in my capacity as a congregational rabbi I always answered that I enjoyed the diversity of work the job entails.  I liked studying and teaching.  I liked counseling and I liked public speaking.  I did truly appreciate all these aspects of my career as a congregational rabbi.  How many single positions

The truth is I think I became a rabbi because it was in a Jewish context that I found my voice and enthusiastic reinforcement for exercising it.  I found my way into NFTY, the youth movement of Reform Judaism in America.

There I quickly made friends and learned that I was naturally a leader. Even though I had plenty of friends at school, weekend getaways and retreats were more conducive to cultivating deeper friendships than during or in between classes.

I developed social action projects in which other people participated, had a great time, an did some good in the world.  With fantastic mentoring from the Religious Action Center, as a teen, I lobbied progressive issues on Capitol Hill and trained other teens to do so.

Prayer and learning were informal and I was encouraged to be creative with them both.  I was.  Others enjoyed my liturgical and educational experimentation.

I was good at youth group and I was good at being a Jew.  So the movement encouraged me to become one of its leaders, a rabbi.  I never really thought about it much, I just did it.  It fit.

When I look back on the past quarter century of my life, I see that in the rabbinate I had a place to focus my passion and creative energy.  Ultimately I believe that is why I became a rabbi.

Interestingly I have learned that passion and creative energy aren't as conducive to synagogue life in adulthood as they were in adolescence.  For most church and synagogue goers, organized religion is a place for recapturing a moment of certainty and ritual practice in an uncertain and often chaotic world.  Routine is important, as is the status quo.  When the rabbi is too involved in his or her own passions or creative pursuits, the people feel frustration and neglect that they aren't getting the experiences they pay the rabbi to get.

I didn't become a rabbi to be an employee of the Jewish people.  I became a rabbi to explore Judaism more deeply and share my findings.

One of the most interesting observations I've made in my transition back into civilian life from the rabbinate is how difficult it can be to shift gears.  I don't mind that my phone rarely rings and that I only receive 5-7 emails a day rather than forty.  I like that part a whole lot.

The challenge is being an ordinary player on an even playing field again.  As a rabbi, my title and position changed the dynamics of social engagement...even among friends and family.

I like not being in charge...but I've nearly forgotten how to do that.  Without giving it a single thought, I catch myself taking for granted that everyone around me will go with whatever plan I put forward.

The more anonymous I am, like at last week's South by  Southwest film panels and workshops, the easier it is feel my own smallness and open my mind to new information and modes of conduct.

The more intimately committed I feel, like in marriage and family, the harder it is to pull the stressed out over committed rabbi back and reinvent the choreography of daily life, both short term and long term pursuits.

The good news is that scientifically, the case for human adaptability has been proven rather successful.  I can grow and change and adapt and continue to develop into a more deeply thinking, compassionate, and creative partner and parent.  We all just need a little patience.

South By Southwest 2010 is now past.  I wonder what the streets of Austin will look like once the sun rises and I can see them sadly uncrowded.

I already miss the tens of thousands of interactive inventors, film lovers, and musicians who were here.  They brought such energy and excitement and innovation and creativity into our lives for more than a week of frenetic learning, networking, people watching, and listening to awesome music - everywhere!

The internet is my friend.  "Content" is my art.   Who doesn't appreciate well-crafted words, striking images, and music deliberately chosen or composed to facilitate the pace and tenor of a journey?

All the rest is commentary, go and learn...

Happiness is one of many possible responses to whatever may be the object of our attention.  It is an opportunity to practice mastering our minds. 

What makes some people seem so happy and others so dower?  I think that happiness is linked to our satisfaction with what we have, where we are, and with whom we keep company.

Often we focus on what we don’t have, where we’d rather be, and the shortcomings of our loved ones, neighbors, and colleagues.  If we want to increase our overall sense of satisfaction or happiness, we need to shift our attention to how much cool stuff we have, the beauty of the places in which we reside, and the endearing characteristics of the people with whom we spend so much time.

Happiness is a choice to embrace and enjoy what is good and plentiful in our lives.

I am missing the Olympics that ended.  A two-week season packed full with lots of different events and challenges is just right for a fair weather fan like me.  I love sports.  Still, watching other people play them on TV doesn’t usually keep my attention for any length of time. 

While following a team or an athlete brings about its own thrills and chills, I am more the experiential type.  I like to run, skip, and play myself.  I don’t care if I play well or look good.  I just like to play, especially outdoors and with as little extra equipment as possible. 

Two intense weeks of watching the Olympics on TV every two years is just about right.  This year, I was utterly fascinated by the story of the speed skater whose coach who sent him into the wrong lane in the 10,000 meter final.  Beneath the sting of such a costly mistake during a sporting moment in which there is no room for error must be a relationship of complete trust between athlete and coach.  I suppose that is why the error in judgement was so tragically captivating.

When I first saw what happened, I began to wonder if I ever trusted anybody enough to follow directions without thinking through whether or not the instruction was the right move to make.  For me, there is always a pause.  It’s not a silent pause.  The audiotape sounds something like, “and if your friend jumps off a bridge, you’ll follow?” 

I have avoided master – disciple relationships my entire life.  I recognize them in family structures, academics, organizations, sports, and all the arts. There have been many fleeting moments in my life, so far, in which I wanted to be a disciple to a certain master.  None of them ever really stuck.  

I know it sounds crazy, but a number of years ago I decided to consciously practice loving others.  I literally slowed down my pace and began looking at other people and listening to them.  I practiced on my family members, colleagues, clerks in stores, whomever sat close to me on the bus, and passers-by on the street.  The funny thing is that it worked!  I began “feeling” more love for humanity.

I learned that love has something to do with accepting others as they present themselves rather than secretly judging them for not being more like I want them to be.  A sense of humor helps a lot!

I remember learning in a high school psychology course that a pristine form of love, unconditional love, was not only possible but also favorable in relationships.  At the time I thought unconditional love was merely a form of loyalty.  The problem was that being on the receiving end of a commitment or promise, kept simply because it was made, doesn’t feel very loving.

Unconditional love means to love without expecting anything in return.  Generating the love is not particularly difficult.  The challenge is to share the love without keeping score or secretly waiting for the gesture to be recognized, requited, and rewarded.  

Some people seem to have a happier disposition than others.  While some portion of that is probably innate, I think a person can practice being happy! 

Happiness and joy seemed to be linked to gratitude and awe.  No matter what it is we want in life, it’s important to balance our desire for more with gratitude for we have already.  It is also important for us to take pause and acknowledge what goes right for us seemingly without effort and what is beautiful before we’ve begun to tamper with it.

I literally began my “happy” practice by stopping to smell the roses.  One day the adage “stop to smell the roses” just popped into my head as I walked past a yard bordered on all sides with stunning rose bushes chock full of heavy blooms.  I stopped and smelled them.  Each color rose had its own subtly unique fragrance.   I caught myself having fun appreciating the subtle aromatic differences among dusty purple, deep red, and brilliant orange roses.  I rarely pass a rose bush now without stopping to smell its flowers.  One of my daughters and one of my nephews now join me when the occasion presents itself. 

Slowing down and paying attention to all the beauty and kindness around us that we too easily take for granted is a very effective way to begin to practice experiencing joy.   Once we recognize what happiness feels like in such a moment we begin to recognize it other times as well.