The Virtues of a Wading Staff

The Housatonic River in northern Connecticut requires a wading staff. The river runs wide and shallow, a combination that I had not encountered previously. I am used to narrow rivers that run deep in the center and cannot be crossed, or wider rivers that you can only fish from near the shore. On my first trip to the Housy, I was surprised to see anglers in the middle of the stream, thirty or forty feet from the banks in either direction, standing only waist deep in the pure cold water. And they had one piece of equipment that I lacked, a wading staff.

A small creek near home. No wading staff required.

Without this item, I spent all day fumbling my way a few feet from the shore. By some miracle, I did manage to hook a small rainbow as the last light from the day faded away. As I released the small trout, a local river guide saw me and came by to say hello. He informed me in a nice way that I was standing right in the middle of a large pool. I thanked him, told him that I would return to the Housy next time more fully equipped and that I would try to avoid standing in large pools.

On Columbus Day a few weeks later, now totting a brand new wading staff that cost way too much money (how is it that fly fishing gear is so expensive?), I returned to the Housy with hopes of large trout and good wading. The river was pretty crowded on that Monday, and the large pool was now being fished correctly by three or four anglers from the middle of the river. I chose a spot further down stream, where I could enjoy the river in solitude, and stepped into the water with staff at hand.

As I began to walk out into the river, I felt suddenly liberated. Instead of tripping over rocks and moving slowly to plant each foot, I now strode through the river with confidence. With the metal point of the staff leading the way, I walked up and down the shore, then right into the middle of the river, then across to the other side and back. There were no fish to be found no matter where I cast, but I did not care. Here I was, master of the river, able to move back and forth at will, the entire stream my playground.

As it turns out, I am not the first person to appreciate the power of a staff. In the Bible, Moses had a rod that could perform miracles. In Pharoah’s palace, Moses threw his staff on the ground, and God turned it into a snake. Then Moses grabbed the snake by its tail, and it once again hardened into a staff.

While the Bible never tells us if Moses was a fisherman, he did have a very effective wading staff. After leaving Egypt, the Israelites stood before the Red Sea, with the Pharoah’s army approaching, stuck between the devil and the deep blue sea. God told Moses to lift up his staff and hold it out over the waters, and the Red Sea split in half. The people walked through on dry land, walls of water on each side, Moses leading them with rod in hand.

As I waded through the Housy with my new staff, I thought of Moses and his Divinely-powered rod. I lifted up my staff briefly to see if the waters would split, but I quickly discovered that I am no Moses. However, after crossing the river back and forth many times, just for the sheer fun of it, I realized that maybe there was something magical about my new wading staff. It could not turn into a snake or split a sea. However, the power of my wading staff was that it brought me even closer to the river, the rocks and the fish. I was no longer a clumsy two-legged mammal, out of place in a world of water. Now, I was able to stride up and down the strong current, and be a part of the river.

That day, I did not see a single rising fish nor catch one trout. However, as I walked back and forth with my wading staff, I felt no longer confined to land, but perhaps now a creature of the water, one who belonged in the river as much as the rainbows and browns that surrounded me.

Jewish Superstitions

A few months ago a good friend and I walked the boardwalk on Venice Beach in Los Angeles. Venice Beach is a lot like the East Village, filled with cafes and used book stores. We even passed a synagogue with bright blue doors located right next to the beach. As we were strolling along, my friend saw a small booth with a woman offering palm readings. He stopped and said that he had visited this woman before, and wanted to have his palm read. My friend is Jewish, but as I discovered, he was also curious about palm readings.

The woman held his hand and began to interpret the lines upon it. She told my friend that he was a kind and sensitive person (which is true!) Since he is single, my friend asked if love would be in his future. She said yes. She told him that he would be married in a few years and that he would have 2 or 3 children. When the reading ended, my friend handed over his $20. We dissected what she had said for a good ten minutes, and I teased him about his future love life and family.

The belief that the lines on your palm can predict your future is superstitious. According to the dictionary, a superstition is an irrational belief that an object or action not logically related to a course of events influences its outcome. But even if the dictionary takes a bit of a negative approach, our society and culture are filled with superstitions. We notice when Friday the 13th comes around. Even world leaders and politicians practice superstitions. While most people believe that black cats are bad luck, Sir Winston Churchill went the opposite way. He was notorious for petting black cats in the belief that it would bring him good fortune.

Do superstitions work? What is their purpose? Can they help us? Let us delve into the Jewish world of the arcane, filled with garlic, an evil eye and covered mirrors.

Many popular Jewish superstitions are connected to the evil eye, ayin ha rah. A friend of mine practices a classic evil eye supersition. When things were going well for him, he says: “kenna hora,” which means “May the evil eye stay away.” Then he spits a few times into his finger tips and waves his hand in the air. Other people put a hamsa up on their wall, which is shaped like a hand and often has a blue and white eye in the middle. The hamsa is meant to protect the home from the evil eye and other misfortunes. Some people even wear a hamsa, or just an eye itself, around their neck.

The superstitions related to the evil eye are often meant to protect us from bad fortune. We say “kenna hora” when things are going well because we are afraid they might take a turn for the worse. Even a cursory glance at the New York Times affirms the troubles that can come to us from nature, from other people and from the world at large. Will wearing a hamsa prevent problems from finding us? I’m not sure. But if certain practices make us feel more secure in the face of life’s uncertainty, then I believe that they have value.

A psychological study indicates that superstitions are “often a means of pacifying an anxious situation for an individual and empowering them with a greater sense of confidence in their ability.” We live in an uncertain world. Sometimes looking at a hamsa on our wall can help us feel less anxious and more empowered. And if these practices can help us to feel safer and improve our sense of well-being, I think they are important.

Along with the evil eye, Judaism has many superstitions related to life cycle events. Ashkenazi Jews, whose ancestors come from Eastern Europe, name a newborn child after a deceased relative. While this is a wonderful way to remember a beloved relative, this custom also has a superstitious side: If a living relative and an infant have the same name, the angel of death might make a mistake, and take the baby instead of the adult. Sephardic Jews, whose ancestors come from Spain, do not share this belief and practice the custom of naming a baby after a living relative.

Another superstition about names occurs when someone is very sick. You are supposed to change the name of the person, so that the angel of death will not be able to find him or her. Apparently the angel of death is not very good with names!

What about the practice of covering the mirrors when the mourners sit shiva at their homes? While this is surely a reminder to avoid vanity when mourning, it also has a superstitious side as well. Some people feared that the soul of a person in the house might be "caught" in the mirror. Then the ghost of the deceased could snatch the soul away.

Why are there so many superstitions related to the life-cycle events, like naming a child after a deceased relative, or covering the mirrors, or the bride circling the groom at a wedding? One answer is that life-cycle events are times of great change in a person’s life. And with change, there is always anxiety. The birth of a child is a blessing, but also a big change. A son can also lose his place as the only child; parents can fear their new responsibilities. And everyone wants the baby to safe and healthy. Rituals like the bris and baby naming, and superstitions, like tying a red ribbon on the crib to keep away the evil eye, each have their place in helping people to navigate the new changes in their lives.

Likewise, the loss of a loved one is a terrible change. And the rituals of mourning, sitting shiva and eating together, along with the customs of covering the mirrors and sitting on low stools, can help a family cope with their loss. In every life cycle event, we can find comfort in certain practices to help us get through it, whether they are rituals that make perfect sense or superstitions that seem illogical but helpful nonetheless. After all, we are just human beings, and when faced with the powerful and ultimate cycle of birth and death, sometimes we need a little bit of help.

About two months after my friend visited the palm reader, he met a woman, a nice Jewish girl. They began dating, and now my friend says that this is a serious relationship. Was the palm reader right? Did she accurately predict that a new woman would come into his life? Or did the experience inspire my friend to open himself up to the possibility of finding someone, and give him confidence to find love?

I’m not sure if the palm reader worked or not. I’m not sure if superstitions are true or false. But I am willing to go along with what was written in Sefer Hasidim, the 13th Century Book of the Pious: “One should not believe in superstitions, but it is best to be heedful of them.” Or to put it another way: one time when I asked my dad what he thought about Jewish superstitions, he said to me: “Can’t hurt.”

Why Do People Convert to Judaism?

A few weeks ago during Shabbat Services, one of our Temple members, Lily, came up to the bimah. She stood before the open ark and sang the Shema. Lily received her Hebrew name, Liyah and I blessed her in front of the congregation, completing her conversion to Judaism. It was a beautiful and holy moment.

Why do people like Lily convert to Judaism? Some people become Jewish in order to marry a Jew. One summer while in Rabbi school, I taught a class entitled Introduction to Judaism. The vast majority of the class consisted of interfaith couples, a Jew and a non-Jew, that were engaged to be married. The non-Jews in the class were taking a first step towards raising a Jewish family and converting to Judaism.

Marriage is not the only reason that people convert, although it is probably the most common. Many converts report that they became Jewish because it is the religion that makes the most sense to them. One convert I know said that she loved how Judaism believed in an invisible spiritual God. She also resonated with the Jewish emphasis on action over belief. The path to being a good Jew is not only dependant on what you believe. You become a good Jew by how you act and what you do to repair the world and make it a better place.

How does Judaism feel about converts? On one hand, our religion welcomes people of other faiths to join Judaism. The first convert in Jewish history was Ruth, who joined our people by saying: “Wherever you go, I will go. Your people shall be my people, and your God, my God.” On the other hand, there is the rule that a rabbi should purposely turn away a convert three times. Only on the fourth approach, can the rabbi begin the process of conversion.

Perhaps this tradition of turning away converts developed in order to prove the sincerity of the person. Maybe it was meant to protect the Jewish people from non-Jews who meant them harm. But in our 21st Century world, I would never turn away a person who is asking about conversion, not even once. It is a sacred blessing and opportunity that someone offers me as a Rabbi, the willingness to join the Jewish faith, to strengthen our people and be with us. I judge the sincerity of a convert not by rejecting them, but by sitting with them and asking them: “Why do you want to be Jewish? What has led you to this point in the journey of your life?”

How does a person convert to Judaism? Conversion is a process that includes study of Judaism, attendance at services and holidays and meetings with the rabbi. When the study and preparation is complete, we go to the mikveh, a pool pure water. The convert removes all clothing and jewelry, and then dunks three times, completely under. The submersion is a symbol of the womb, and the convert comes out of the water “re-born” as a Jew. Hearing the three splashes of the water as I stand outside the door of the mikveh is very powerful. I also invite each person I convert to come to a Friday night service for a conversion blessing.

Lily came a few Fridays ago for her conversion blessing. The path that led Lily to convert was a fascinating one. Lily was born in Hong Kong and came to America as a teenager. She married a Jewish man, but did not convert. After raising three Jewish children and cooking Passover dinners for 29 years, Lily realized it was time to unify her family and become Jewish. As a rabbi, it is an honor and a blessing to help guide the spiritual journey of Lily, as well as each person who wishes to join the Jewish faith.