To Beach or Not To Beach? Don't Rush Hashanah to Conclusions

There's gold rush; adrenaline rush; rush hour; rush to judgment; rush job; and of course, Rosh Hashanah.

Literally, Rosh Hashanah means the head, or the beginning, of the Jewish New Year. It opens the High Holy days time period (closed by Yom Kippur) for sealing one’s fate. It’s the period of introspection and repentance, also called “Ten Days of Awe."

I grew up in a pretty awe-some Jewish family. We were not religious in the strict sense, but I was always searching for new synagogues and more musical rabbis, dragging my parents to find the spiritual manna. I schlepped from the rural potato farms of Maine to visit the home of my recorder “rabbi,” mentor Eric Leber to the Upper West Side of Manhattan to join my friend, welcoming musical guru rabbi Shlomo Carlebach.

Rosh Hashanah always meant crisp autumn days filled with patent leather and crushed velvet shoe awe, new starched dresses and sweet things for the New Year, like honey and apple cake. For the Bermans it was really more about the heritage, culture, the food, and the music, Yiddish songs like Rozhinkes mit Mandlen (Raisins & Almonds), the rituals of gathering together; about freilach (merry) Jewish music and dancing, singing, celebrating; and the smells of matzoh ball soup, roast chicken and brisket dinners.

The Rain in Ditch Plains Stays Mainly Refrained

There’s an inside joke amongst Jews: The weather always turns nice for the holidays. So, after days of meteorological mayhem from Hurricanes Irma, José and Maria, I had an iffy 3-day vacation planned for the coastal tip of Long Island: Montauk. The High Holidays are all about doing good deeds, reflecting on past mistakes. Jewish mysticism teaches that water corresponds to kindness. I guess you could say I was heading for oceanic kindness filled with sun-kissed waves of wonderment.

But what does one do in the face of record winds, flood warnings and storms? Cancel out like a weather wimp? Or forge through the bleak forecasts, pack a thick slicker and pray — heavily counting on the Gods of the Rosh Hashanah Sunshine Miracle Turnaround. Yes indeed, faith is more than just rabbi-deep. It’s an intuitive, spiritual thing. And after all, the Jews are the chosen people. Why not buck the wash-out predictions and grab the bikini and suntan oil?

It was the very week that magically marked the convergence of several highly significant events in my life — the centennial of my father, Harold Berman’s birth; my 14-year old cat’s radio-iodine treatment for hyperthyroidism; the birthday of musical giant Leonard Cohen, whose great grandfather, Lazarus Cohen, and grandfather, Lyon Cohen, served as President of Congregation Shaar Hashomayim of Montreal (whose synagogue choir sang on You Want it Darker) and the Jewish New Year, Rosh Hashanah, 5778. Naturally, I expected the weather-worn heavens to open and part the Atlantic Ocean like the Red Seas of SPF 50 .

In truth, my family really was much more about nature than synagogue. My Dad shared his passion for the heavens and the constellations, teaching us more about planets than prayer, more about rotation than religion. My Mom always said the Ocean was her God. I couldn’t agree more. Although we were a middle class family living in a veterans’ co-op in Queens, my Dad — who worked as a court stenographer for NY State Supreme Court — got summers off. (I’ve always thought that was the only reasonable way to have a job — what’s the point of a mere two- week annual vacation?)

We spent summers in Cape Cod and learned more about worshipping tide charts than Torah scrolls. My Dad brought his binoculars, my Mom brought her bathing suit. Harold brought his easel, Anne her embroidery.

Jewish law teaches that God inscribes the names of the righteous in the “Book of Life.” So in the Jewish tradition of endless questioning, I ask the logical: “Is that inscription in print, script or Helvetica font? “

It seemed this was going to be a rather grey and gloomy non-beach vacation after all. But in the Jewish spirit of hopefulness, why Rosh to conclusions? And since Rosh Hashanah is a time for prayer and reflection, I figured...why not seize those reflective rays regardless of the clouds? If the skies were simply not destined to be clear, why not turn the “proverbial” tides and bring the radiance of the sun and sea indoors? I was determined to make it a brilliant Rosh Hashanah despite the inclement weather.

So for 40 years (the number of years Moses roamed the desert wilderness) the weather did turn nice for Rosh Hashanah. However, there's an exception to every rule. The rains of hurricanes José and Maria were dampening my spirits. And yet, as I headed beach-ward, they’d already started dribbling down to a light drizzle, staving off the heavy downpour. Still, those ominous gray skies never actually turned sun-dappled blue. How best to proceed? Consulting my inner librarian, I started to research activities I'd never explored.

I was searching for a way to celebrate the centennial of my Dad (he would have turned 100 on September 21), worship my cat Binky’s radio-iodine treatment, and bow to the animal gods. I needed to replace my frustration about the lack of sunshine with a nod to Nephelai, the nymph-goddesses of clouds and rain.

And so I concocted a creative approach to gloom. Here, then, is a customized cultural guide to a cloudy Rosh Hashanah at the beach. And, since my father, a Renaissance man, was a man of letters, I decided to check out some intriguing interior worlds of culture.

I ♥ Heart Art

First off, my father adored art. He was a masterful watercolorist and oil painter, setting up his easel every summer afternoon, clouds or sun, on the deck of Bull Ring Wharf at 381 Commercial Street, Provincetown, overlooking Cape Cod Bay. So first I decided to check out the Parrish Art Museum in Watermill, Long Island.

Zeal and Appeal of the Photo Real Deal - Parrish or Parish

I actually felt like a paintbrush parishioner at the sleek, contemporary Parrish Art Museum on Montauk Highway in Watermill, New York (www.parrishart.org). There were no pews or choirs, but instead, a most other-worldly experience. The Parrish is featuring an eye-popping exhibit: From Lens to Eye to Hand: Photorealism 1969 to Today (Parrish Art Museum, August 6 2017 - January 21 2018). This stunning array of paintings mystifies and baffles the brain, the eye and the soul — how could such detailed brushwork achieve the realistic spell of the photograph? Realllllly????

Nostalgia is practically my middle name, so I was in nirvana studying the photorealist artists reflecting on subjects like American diners and classic cars. Trailblazing painters like Robert Bechtle (’73 Malibu, 1974), Robert Gniewek (Cheyenne Diner, 2015), and John Salt (Purple Impala with Swing, 1975) froze an instantaneous moment and, in the words of artist Richard Kaline, “stretched (it) out over months and months.” Awesome. Sort of like the 10 Days of Awe: endless reflections about our lives, deeds, experiences, our struggles, our passions.

Ross-Hashanah Reflections — H2Oceanic

And, as a bonus, Parrish has a mixed media installation [Platform: Clifford Ross Light | Waves], featuring multi- media artist Clifford Ross who, along with my family, beach worshippers, seafaring types, and most Montauk-ians, is fascinated with the ocean off the shore of Long Island. I stood transfixed by an adagio loop of rolling Digital Waves —illuminated by an 18 x 18 LED wall in the lobby. Repeated video bits of lush oceanic melodies, embellished with dissonance and suspensions.

Digital Waves, Platform: Clifford Ross Light | Waves Installation, Parrish Art Museum , July 16 - Oct. 15, 2017 www.parrishart.org

In the words of Parrish Art Museum Director Terrie Sultan, Clifford Ross uses “new media of his own invention, [creating] a tension between representation and imagination, realism and abstraction, and ultimately reveals a different ‘truth’ about the ocean.”

This was a vibrant variation on a traditional approach to Rosh Hashanah — a “different truth” about formal Jewish synagogue services. And Ross, passionate about Herman Melville, inspired by Jackson Pollock’s drip paintings and the seascapes ofJ.M.W. Turner, “ultimately reveals a different truth about the ocean.” Digital Waves — a high res computer generated simulation — reminded me of the overwhelming power and gargantuan beauty of the natural, virtual and technological ocean. My eyes were glued to the 3 million+ random volatile moving particles — a force of nature, of disintegration and renewal, of humanity and inhumanity, of the water gods and goddesses.

Three million particles. The estimated number of ocean species (according to Science Daily). The numbers are impossible to conceive — both in nature and in history. My mind and heart wandered over the sands of Egypt, of Montauk, thinking about the sands of time, reflecting on the six million Jews who disappeared into dust. And the millions who are now celebrating the 10 Days of Awe, some right here at Digital Waves.

In the ancient Jewish tradition of teaching and knowledge, the museum was offering a fascinating interdisciplinary symposium on water — the scientific, artistic and cultural approach. Now I’m no Talmud scholar, but I am curious, and do love learning (especially without the exam).

In the words of Curator of Special Projects Corinne Erni, “Bringing together experts [on water] from diverse disciplines... architects, designers, policymakers, farmers, fishermen, technologists... is a means to engage the artist as a conduit to finding creative solutions to water management and protection on Long Island’s East End and beyond.” So...was it just a spiritual coincidence that this panel on H2O matters, during the High Holy Days tradition of Jewish dialogue and exchange, was held on Rosh Hashanah? Perhaps....

Please Pass the Gestalt

Clifford Ross Light | Waves is part of Parrish Platform, an “open-ended invitation to a single artist to approach the gestalt of the Museum as a space for overlapping works that cross boundaries and inspire a unique interpretation of art, landscape or waterscape... [Artists can] “engage with the entire Museum space as a site for works that inspire new ways of experiencing art.”

There I stood, Awestruck, amidst my own 10 Days of Awe, facing Ross’ crashing Hurricane Waves on Wood. Staring back at me were six large scale (12 x19) prints of photos snapped almost two decades ago in storms off the coast of Long Island. Ross embarked on Hurricane Waves in 1998, venturing out into the wild surf, tethered to his assistant on land. I felt spiritually connected once again, this time to the Jewish ceremony of Tashlikh — heading to a body of water (river, lake, stream or ocean) to cast away sins.

Ross’ Hurricane Waves on Wood photo prints are ironically being exhibited amidst more storms — the devastating trilogy of the tempestuous 2017 hurricanes José, Irma and Maria. Combining digital methods, ultraviolet inkjet printing, and hand selected maple veneer, Ross seems an artistic/oceanic pioneer. The warmth and richness of the wood seem one with the sea.

I immediately flashed back to my own assorted remembrances of wood: the driftwood I found on Cape Cod walks at low tide; my first hand crafted cherry wood recorder, on which I learned baroque and Jewish melodies; wooden shofar stands; and the old Eastern European disappearing wooden synagogues.

Ross’ waves, his earthy wood backdrops and massive, lyrical waves reached out to me, to the soul of one rebel (with a cause ) — a Rosh Hashanah and ocean worshipper. It seemed like an adagio movement in an orchestral, oceanic suite. Call him a mystical blend of Melville, Moses, and Michelangelo.

From Veterinarian... to Centenarian.... to Librarian

On Rosh Hashanah God opens the Book of Life. So I decided to dig up my library card, revisit the Dewey Decimal system, and trek over to the Montauk Library. But first....

Veterinarian...

I’d already dropped off my tuxedo cat at the NYC Animal Endocrine Clinic (http://www.animalendocrine.com/) with “cat whisperer,” veterinarian Mark Peterson, renowned for his research in radio-iodine treatment on hyperthyroid cats. (https://www.nytimes.com/2017/05/16/magazine/the-mystery-of-the-wasting-house-cats.html). He just might be the benevolent “animal rabbi” I’ve been seeking. Since many Torah laws involve compassion to animals, I felt this was perfect timing — a sacred week to bring Binky to vet “temple.”

The staff are saintly types, coinciding with Rosh Hashanah’s focus on doing good deeds; they even offered me webcam access to watch my darling Binky in his “cat condo” while I was at the (cloudy) beach. Courtney was a multi-tasking wizard, overseeing intake, interior decorating, and comfort. Carol was funnier than Seinfeld, and, in Jewish tradition, she added humor and solace to my Rosh Hashanah week.

Anne, like the renowned St. Anne, patron saint of children, took care of my “son” Binky with daily phone calls (sweet meditations to my ear) filling in details of his diva behavior, messing up his space like a “rockstar trashing the Plaza hotel room.” Kotono and Donna exhibited a tranquil respect for the elders (Binky is a ripe 14 years old), with a soft spoken, meditative approach to the mundane world of paperwork and cat scan transmittals.

...to Centenarian

My Dad, born in Brooklyn in 1917, would have turned 100 on Leonard Cohen’s birthday, September 21. Every year I jog over to the eroded cliffs of Montauk to build Harold Berman a 21-stone memorial.

This time high tides threatened my annual tribute, but I managed to plow through the waves and sandbars to my Dad’s protected spot. Listening to another Jewish musical gem, Leonard Cohen, crooning “Famous Blue Raincoat,” as the skies threatened more storms, I built a Miro-esque collage tribute to Harold Berman, a non-religious Jew, who exemplified goodness, intellect, kindness, comedic talent, joke-telling, jazz musicianship, art, magic, and gentlemanliness, all year round, from Rosh Hashanah through the Ten days of Awe and throughout the remaining 355 days of the year.

...to Librarian

Entering the Montauk library at the exact instant of magenta sunset peeking through the wooden slats of the contemporary building, I was once again awestruck. Built in 1991 by architect Ray Beeler, the building, complete with knotty pine rafters and a view of the ocean from the mezzanine, is a gem. A Temple of the Book Gods.

I got a Master’s in Library Science, but never became a librarian in the strict sense of the word. No, but I always loved books, loved to research, loved to wear library themed socks, and love talking to reference librarians.

And, Montauk Library (www.montauklibrary.org) screens films every week (free admission). On Rosh Hashanah eve, it was The Big Sick, a romantic comedy “rom-com” about a Pakistani stand-up comedian and his non-traditional choice of girlfriend. There were about eight of us in the audience — practically a private screening — a sort of intimate inter-faith service. An on-screen story of family, loyalty, rebellion, romance, comedy, heartbreak, and renewed faith in humanity. Positive kharma kudos to Montauk Library Director Denise DiPaolo. What could be more perfect for the first night of 10 Days of Awe?

Mandala of Marinara

We all know about Montauk and seafood, the mystique of eight fishermen, the luxury of lobster rolls. Kosher worlds do not allow shellfish. Nope, I’m not kosher, but now and then I try to observe the stricter rules of life (believe me, it doesn’t last long).

In honor of Rosh Hashanah rebels, and Jewish spiritual healing mandalas (truly, Buddhism is not that far from Judaism), I decided to cozy up with old fashioned ziti parmigiana, garlic knots and sautéed spinach and some of the best marinara sauce this side of the Atlantic - at Sausages, Pizza & Pastabilities (http://www.sausagesmontaukpizza.com/. So much for brisket.

The Simple Joys of Sim Shalom

And so, to close out my 10 Days of Awe, I maintained the theme of indoor joy by finding what I’ve always sought: a musical, emotional, fun, informative, jazzy Jewish service. What better way to reflect than by attending Rabbi/singer-songwriter Steve Blane’s magical SimShalom Yom Kippur services at The Bitter End in Greenwich Village, New York City. Whatttt? That iconic music club of the 1960’s where just about everyone performed? You know, singers from Joni (Mitchell) to Arlo (Guthrie); comedians from Lenny Bruce to Woody Allen.

Yup. That’s the one.

Whether or not one believes in a God, per se, there seems to be a huge force that’s waving the world wand, conducting the global orchestra. We all seem really linked together by the melodies of nature, the harmonies of the spheres — the musicality of the waves, the earthy resins of oil paints, the rich wood grains, the infinite majesty of sunrise and sunsets.

Nothing in nature is mundane, from words to water. Every morsel of life is sacred, from language to the ocean. We grope with problems from politics to hurricanes, and what helps us the most to cope is Art — paintings, photographs, sonatas, books, symphonies and songs.

Refrain, Abstain & Rabbi Blane — Plainly our Gain

Steve Blane’s approach with his online synagogue (www.simshalom.org) is to play jazz, to riff on the routine. What fun is rigidity when each one of us is a variation on a theme? As the tradition goes, strict Yom Kippur observers finalize their days of repentance and good deeds, abstaining from food until we break the fast. For Blane, jazz is thoughtful improvisation within a structured form — a sort of “metaphor for experiencing life.”

Sim Shalom’s mission? To “nurture a Jewish connection through innovative services, creative education and dynamic outreach to the global community.” Blane’s blend of commentary, song and comic relief (all in the tradition of Jewish teachings) guided us through the messy contemplation of our past year of mistakes and sins with wit, wonder and wisdom. This was not the typical High Holiday synagogue service I find wearisome — you know, the repeated “please all rise, please all sit” getting up and down, the endless flipping back and forth through the prayer book (”what page are we on now”?) Sim Shalom is an interactive Online Jewish Universalist Synagogue, “liberal in thought and traditional in liturgy.”

It suddenly struck me. Like the ocean I adore, Sim Shalom is organically growing and evolving. This is a wave of spirituality, art, music, and Jewish passion.

Backing up lead singer Rabbi Blane, a hip jazz ensemble bopped, boogied and buzzed about the Book of Life. I was honored to have the barstool next to superwoman Carol Blane (who was monitoring the minutiae and logistics of the online comment feed, names of attendees to be read aloud, the details and whereabouts of the videography, the shofar player/sound engineer Evan Kremin, photographer Bill Alatriste, the simshalom.com live stream, etc.). Sprinkled amongst Blane’s insights on Kol Nidre — why it is played before sunset; his historical tidbits on Teshuvah, the Nederim vows of forgiveness — Blane tells some side-splitting jokes, in the laughing spirit of the landmark Bitter End comedians.

SimShalom Yom Kippur — B'sefer Chaim ("In the Book of Life") — High Holiday Services 5778 at The Bitter End, Greenwich Village, NYC, September 30, 2017 Rabbi Steve Blane; Jack Glotman, Piano; Carol Sudhalter, Flute; Kevin Hailey, Bass; Frank Levatino, Drums; Lizzie Taub, fiddle www.simshalom.com www.youtube.com

I’ve learned so much in this rockin’ High Holiday musical tutorial that I ‘m practically ready to be bat mitzvah’ed! Rabbi Blane encourages participation, from couples he’s recently married, to young kids Mason and Oliver asked to carry the Torah throughout the room for everyone to touch. He leads the congregation (or should I say the concert audience) in choruses of Halleluyah, Barchu, Sh’ma, Hatzi Kaddish and Zachrenu L’Chaim (”remember us in the Book of Life.”) He wanders through the club asking for anyone to name sick loved ones and offer hope.

Blane’s a mystical blend of rabbi, scholar, professor and singer; a mix of Deepak Chopra and Jimmy Fallon. Focusing on the significance of the WORD in Judaism, he brings up a jaw-dropping spoken word improv genius, Joel Lewis Gold, who waxes poetic in rap/free verse about the word and the world. Blane adds nuance, explaining that our tongues were put inside the walls of the mouth to prevent Lashon Hara — misuse of language, evil speech and gossip. There’s no forgiveness for disparaging remarks. Yet, asking for forgiveness is the first step. Next is action. And when he explains M’chalkayl Chaim and returning in the next life, he adds with a chuckle— just in case anyone is anxious about death— “Don’t worry, we’ll be back.”

Occasionally I glanced over at the laptop, balanced on The Bitter End bar, streaming the Yom Kippur service live. Listeners and viewers were writing in from Spain, India, and Long Island....”I am in a wheelchair and couldn’t come in person. It’s fantastic.” “Shalom from Madrid.” “Your music is so intriguing.” The global community of non-traditional Jews is staggering. I am emotionally touched by the rebel Rabbi who teaches, croons, and celebrates the right to tweak the rules of strict synagogue services. Like the waves breaking the shores, SimShalom breaks open the world of worship - whether your god is Yahweh, the Atlantic Ocean, or jazz.