Posts Tagged ‘Christian music’

Being Enough

Friday, August 5th, 2011

During the era in which I graduated, Fairfax High School was known as “the Jewish high school”.

Located at the corner of Fairfax and Melrose in the Borscht Belt section of L.A., the school was nestled in a pre-Hip Melrose Avenue pocket of small Orthodox synagogues, assorted bookstores, Cantor’s Restaurant and a nifty record shop called Norty’s.

Recently I attended a small get-together noting the forty-fifth anniversary of my class’ graduation. Honestly, I really hadn’t much wanted to go, but as she so often does these days, my fiance’ gently pushed me in the right direction.

Upon arrival, I decided that as long as I was there, I may as well try to learn something from the experience. I decided to be more of a listener than a talker and try to get a handle on how some of my fellow classmates have really turned out.

For the most part, it was an easy tactic: given the opportunity, most folks jump at the chance to talk uninterrupted about themselves. To be fair, they also wanted to know about me, but it still wasn’t hard to keep the ball mostly in their court.

Fairfax had always been known as a breeding ground for academic achievers, and this sampling has lived-up to expectations. One gentleman is a longtime administrator at UCLA., and another at MIT. A third has his own consulting firm up North and a fourth is a renown Doctor and legislator who’s on the verge of completing his second book.

I heard stories of estimable achievements, exotic travels, impending retirement plans, and saw pictures of beautiful grown children and grandchildren fostered by tri-decade marriages.

Truth to be told, I had an enjoyable time. These are all good people living good lives. Surprisingly, my overwhelming emotion was… pride. Rightfully or not, I felt proud for them. They are fine people who contribute to the American fabric and stay the path.

When last I went to one of these events, about ten years ago, my reaction was a different one. Hearing of the others’ more mainstream experiences and successes, I remember coming away with an embarrassing sense of envy and resentment. “Why had their lives seemingly gone so much smoother than mine? How come their material possessions so dwarfed mine? Jeez, I feel like such a failure next to some of them…”

But not this time.

Though nothing’s really changed on our varied life’s paths, I began to notice a new pattern developing in the conversations. After achievements were outlined and Smart Phone pictures replaced in pockets, the topic seemed to inevitably turn to spirituality. And it’s no surprise, is it? As we get older, it’s natural to think more about our own mortality and a Bigger Picture.

Knowing that I’m co-founder and Music Director of a synagogue congregation, some of the guys seemed comfortable wanting to share their  spiritual status with me. One told of embracing a philosophy which combines aspects of Buddhism and Judaism. Another has regular meetings at his house specifically to discuss Matters Spiritual. A third hasn’t had much of a religious affiliation, but revealed that lately he’s been feeling a strong pull to get back to his roots.

And as they spoke, I was reminded of our real common bond: God.

I must confess that I talked a lot about the members of my congregation. I didn’t quite brag about them… well, I guess the truth is that I really did.

I talked about this miraculous congregation of which I’m so blessed to be a part. I talked about five hundred people at every Sabbath service and fifteen hundred at High Holy Day services. I marveled at the membership’s continued willingness to let me do my art at their services, and what a holy extended family we all are.

I shared about the miracles and recovery I’ve seen in our community nurtured by our synagogue, and how we continue to grow by impressive numbers. And in each case, I saw a look of nodding recognition in my friends’ eyes. Whether they actually did or not, I’d like to think they kinda “got” who I am.

I walked away from the get-together with a serene sense of pride and gratitude for what my life has become. And yet again I was reminded that conjuring-up feelings of being less than someone else is usually just a misguided, self-defeating waste of time.

We’re all Children of Almighty God, possessing of daily opportunities to grow, improve and lead meaningful lives. As long as we continually dedicate ourselves to those goals, I believe that in God’s eyes, I’m enough – you’re enough – we’re all good enough.

Apparently Fairfax High still had something to teach me.

Thank You, God.

 

 

Just For Today: Service

Sunday, February 27th, 2011

One of my favorite meditations, titled “Just For Today”, suggests that each day of my life I should find a way to do someone a good turn. It warns however, that if anyone finds out about the effort, it won’t count.

I’ve decided that this one time I’m gonna violate the code. I’m doing it because I’m convinced that I’ll fail the assignment if I don’t share the lesson.

My friend Suzanne is a woman who I’d guess is in her mid-thirties. She’s a pretty blonde, and makes an impact when she walks in a room. She’s bright, articulate and inspires everyone she meets.

She’s also blind.

Recently Suzanne called and told me of a dilemma. Like me, she’s a participant in the Recovery community. Her problem at hand was a lack of brail or audio versions of many of the readings in our particular program. As is her way, she wanted to do something about it, and wondered if I’d be willing to record myself reading some of the materials.

I’ve long harbored an intention of doing some reading for sight-impaired people, but never got around to it. So when she made the request, I jumped at it.

A week later, eleven CD’s – ten hours of recorded literature now exist. Suzanne intends to use them to reach out to people in the sight-impaired community who suffer from similar self-destructive compulsions. Others will be helped, and I got a chance to be a part of it.

I tell you this because, for about a year, I’ve been in recovery doldrums. I’ve found myself overcome by my Obsession of Choice, not finding strength to get back on my particular wagon. I’ve had spurts of clarity, but more often than not the insidious disease has been wrapping itself around me and constricting my life. I’ve prayed repeatedly for willingness to take the actions I need to take, but relief has been long in coming.

Apparently God decided I was finally ready.

The process of recording involved total immersion in the materials. For seven days and nights I was reading all the questions, reciting all the prayers and absorbing all the wisdom the program has to offer. Despite having been a participant for over sixteen years, I read things I’ve never read before, and learned things I’ve never known.

For my willingness, my God drilled into my head a thousand reminders of how much He loves me, and that I need never be alone with my addiction again. He told me in the most clear-cut Holy Voice – over and over – that there indeed is a solution to my troubles.

I feel so much better. For today, the compulsion has been lifted, and I’m convinced that every day I show up for others, I stand a far better chance of showing up for myself.

It’s really true: service absolutely is its own reward.

“Just for today, I will be unafraid. Especially I will not be afraid to enjoy what is beautiful, and to believe that as I give to the world, so the world will give to me.”

Thank you, Suzanne.

Thank you, God.

Persistence With A “P”

Thursday, October 21st, 2010

“Persistence”.

Three syllables linked together: so easy to say, yet so hard to own.

I’ve been wondering lately about persistence. What is it in a human being which says, “I know it’d be easier to give up, and I keep thinking I should… but I just can’t – I won’t.”

An on hand dictionary says that to persist is “to continue unwavering or resolute or firmly in some purpose or course of action.”

Unwavering… resolute… purpose…. I like those words. I like the idea of their being part of what defines us.

Yes, “unwavering” has connotations of being stubborn, but in this context it implies focus and refusal to be distracted. Sounds good to me: I admire people who have the wherewithal to abstain from three hundred cable channels of inanity and compulsive crossbreeding with their PDA of choice.

“Resolute” sounds like Thomas Jefferson – the good parts. Words like “bold” and “courageous and “intrepid” come to mind. Jeez, wouldn’t you just love for someone to call you “intrepid”?

“The intrepid composer persevered boldly and courageously through the Broadway establishment and found a producer for his new Musical.”  Yeah baby, that’s what I’m talkin’ about!

And last but not least: “purpose”. What’s a life without dreams and goals and destinations? Isn’t your day so much more delicious when you’re on a mission?

And we don’t always have to be persistent on a grand scale, do we? A lawmaker in pursuit of passing an equal rights amendment is really no more relentless than a student studying day and night for her S.A.T., or a teacher who refuses to give up on a difficult child.

Personally, I’m finding persistence to be an elusive suitor. In the last week I’ve experienced moments when heady terms like “brilliant” and “masterpiece” were being heaved at me – yet seconds later when I was still feeling like another nose pressed against the glass.

But though I’ve often felt like saying I’ve had enough, after a few hours of licking my wounds I’ve found myself continuing to try, fueled by recognition that I won’t be able to live with myself if I don’t.

And isn’t that the essence of it for all of us? As usual, it’s about choices. We choose to live either with sorrowful regrets or in the satisfaction of knowing that there were chapters in our personal stories when, despite the odds, we were resolute and focused and determined.

But here’s the kicker: we don’t have to do it alone. We don’t have to take the world on our shoulders in the pursuit of our goals. It’s not our job – it’s God’s.

Oh yeah… “God”. I almost forgot.

Now I remember: we’ve got a God who loves us. We’ve got a God for whom our little goals are less than a snap of His holy fingers. We’ve got a God who has a plan for us – and we’ve got a God with whom all things are possible.

Come to think of it, He’s the One who gave us the gift of persistence.

I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling better now. I’ve got a renewed sense of unwavering, resolute purpose. Of course I have to continue being persistent, because my God’s walking alongside me – and He’s got my back.

I think I’m actually feeling a little bit intrepid.

How about you?

Clarity At Its Own Pace

Saturday, September 25th, 2010

With all their majesty, for me this year’s High Holy Day services of my religion-of-choice had a flavor all their own.

For those who may not be familiar, reform Jewish High Holy Day services are divided in five: an evening and morning service celebrating the Jewish New Year, and a week or so later an evening and two separate daytime services experiencing the Day of Atonement – the most solemn day on the Jewish calendar.

After a lovely first evening’s services, my arrival at the sanctuary the next morning was greeted by an excited friend with magazine in hand. “Congratulations, congratulations! Have you seen it yet?”  I asked what she was talking about, and she said, “the article about you in this week’s Los Angeles Jewish Journal! Here, I’ve brought a copy for you!”

And there it was: a column by Journal editor Rob Eshman titled “You Don’t Know Jack.”

I decided to hold off looking at it until after the service concluded, and excited anticipation became an ingredient of my morning’s experience. Immediately afterward, at the first quiet moment I sat down to read.

My first reactions were gratitude and admiration. How kind of Rob to give me such a generous, sensitive spotlight. And as I read, I was taken both with his usual exceptional writing abilities and his display of integrity and insight.

A beautiful present and notable way to start the Jewish New Year.

But as I read, I also began feeling some regret that much of the column detailed my past, and what happened fifteen years ago. I know – it’s a major part of my life’s story, but still….

And immediately I began dreading the following week’s Day Of Atonement services – ironically fifteen years to the day since my children were taken – and the miserable prospect of being viewed as a victim all over again.

It’s not that I’m in denial about my past – how could I be? But early on I made a choice that I’d fight the impulse to let it define me as an object of tragedy, and I’ve worked hard for a long time to minimize that perception.

I’d like to think that my life, my music and my writing today have become about praise of God, love, creativity and service to others… and profound gratitude for every blessed moment.  I’ve become convinced that, like it or not, our worst challenges afford us extraordinary opportunities to better the world. I believe that every day God provides us with circumstances and scenarios in which we can be of help to others, but our eyes and hearts must be open to recognize them.

When others hear of my story and my music today, rather than sadness, I’d far rather they come away with hope, inspiration and a bit more certainty that they can survive any of their life’s trials – as long as they remain in alignment with the God who so clearly loves and cherishes them.

Ironically, the cover story of the following week’s Journal – with the word “Hope” emblazoned across the front in big letters – talks about the message I’d like to think that I stand for and share with others.

But as a dear friend says to me when I’ve manufactured turmoil in my life, “Pal, you’re right on schedule. There’s no accidents in God’s world.”

And he’s right again. It all turned out the way it was supposed to. Yom Kippur had its emotionally bumpy moments, and some people came up to me with that familiar look of pity in their eyes.  But even more said that, despite the fact they were so sorry I had undergone such trauma, they came away inspired.

And again I got to play music and conduct my choir – once more having been granted the privilege of utilizing my art to be of service to God.

And yet again, I was so grateful.

For those who didn’t know me before, after reading the article I’m not sure whether or not they still don’t know Jack – at least this year’s edition.

What a great new challenge I have for this New Year: to find other avenues to let them know.

As stated: a beautiful and notable new beginning.

Thank You God for the gift of  clarity – even if it comes at its own pace.

The Gift Of Desperation

Wednesday, September 15th, 2010

Having been around the Recovery Community for a number of years, I’ve heard an assortment of venerable, insightful slogans. No doubt you’ve heard some of the more familiar ones: “One Day At A Time”, “Just For Today”, “Easy Does It”, etc.

However, this morning I heard a new nugget of insight, and it resonated with digital clarity. It came from someone I hadn’t previously met – a seemingly articulate, accomplished, successful individual.

Her statement was, “I’m grateful for the gift of desperation”.

Yes, I know: we’ve all heard the essence of that thought before. But nevertheless, there’s something about hearing the words “desperate” and “gift” in the same sentence that whisper a unique sense of truth to me.

“Desperation” usually means we think we’ve hit bottom. Our luck appears expired and “hope” is for somebody else. Fear’s about to overtake us and we’re on the brink of panic. Some might describe the feeling as being incomprehensibly demoralized.

But aren’t those the moments when we’re willing to try anything? Aren’t those the times when we’re most prone to recognize that we can’t live our lives run on Self Will alone? Aren’t those the junctures at which we’re most willing to finally turn to the God who loves us?

And as a result, those might actually be the holy moments when our lives really begin to change. Previously undreamed-of options start to appear. Obstacles we thought insurmountable are slowly, systematically conquered. Agonizing, self-sabotaging impulses over which we felt utterly powerless – gradually, miraculously become surmountable on a daily basis, with God as our Director.

Desperation’s no fun – no one asks for it. But I feel a sense of comfort and encouragement hearing that there are those who’ve concluded that some of their worst moments turned out to have been God’s most profound gifts.