Gardens of Community

When I was a senior in college, the chair of the Religion department gifted each student a packet of plant seeds that best represented them. It was a new personalized twist on an annual tradition to recognize members of the Religion department. I received watermelon; a social plant with long and curly vines connecting it with other watermelons. A specific breed of beans was given to Kaitlin, representing her strength, resilience, and her hometown Boston (“Beantown”). Lynn received a Cosmos plant for her penchant for the mysterious and mystical. As you can probably tell, these gifts had more quirky resonance rather than true horticultural meaning. Regardless, I still have that packet of seeds.

I am fond of the metaphor that we are all plants, organisms that blossom at different times with a myriad of blooms. If we are plants, then our synagogue can be our garden. A garden of watermelons would be dull as would be a garden of only blue hydrangeas (my mother’s favorite). One only has to look to Rodef Shalom's Biblical Botanical garden to know that it is the variety in a garden that makes it magnificent.

The Jerusalem Talmud tells us: “It is forbidden to live in a town that does not have a green garden.” (Jerusalem Talmud,Kiddushin 4:12) We, as a community of members, are that garden, and therefore are committed to making it lush and green. So, next time you find yourself sitting within the synagogue walls, look to the person to your left and take a moment to appreciate his or her sunflower-esque confidence. Stop and admire the prickly succulent in our midst. For only together do we make up the beautiful garden that is our community.

Religion for the Summer

My family has a summer house in Maine. I know what you are thinking, very posh, but it's better than the Hamptons and my grandparents live here so it's nice to be close to them when we can. But this post is not about Maine or my family-it's about Seasonal Religion. I live near this old church. It is beautiful, made of round stones and sits right on the rocky edge over looking the ocean. There is even an outdoor pulpit for those who want to get married outside with the sea as the backdrop. Now when we went for a stroll and decided to go on, I was undeniably excited. I was expecting some church from early settlers time filled with coastal history.

I was severely disappointed. I mean, the church was old, but only about a hundred years or so. The church was built around the time when Maine became the "vacationland" that it still is today. Tons of mid-atlantic city folk coming up for the crisp summers and fresh air. Basically this is a summer church, a church for old vacationers. Nowadays, of course it's mostly full of weddings and pomp, but I still am intrigued about a church built for temporary practitioners, seasonal practitioners, if you will. At the same time it feels both "lived religion-y" and an extravagance. Maybe that's just my impression of old time vacationers who came to Maine. Anyways, it's a pretty church.