Are we Doing it Right? (A Jewish Guide to Decision-making and Holiday Festivities)

Lately I’ve been spending a lot of time thinking about right and wrong. Not in the moral sense, for that compass has been unbendingly pointed north since I was four - much to my inner rebel’s chagrin (and my parents’, who started calling me “Sergeant Winner” around that time) - but more so in the what-the-hell-are-any-of-us-doing kind of right and wrong. Starting with yours truly and rippling outward, I’ve noticed that we compare ourselves to a malleable standard that bends and moves with the economy, the media, the friend circles we run in – consistently dodging our outstretched fingers.

But, seriously, what the hell? We create this image of what we want and then let all of these external factors influence our determination of whether this is the right thing to want, and the right way to go about getting it. Some of us want a brick cottage – we want to raise our kids as religious, wholesome individuals and provide them good health and a golden retriever. Others of us are determined to live out of a cardboard box until we see social justice in the form of poverty eradication, gay rights, and equal educational opportunities for left and right-handed students. While simultaneously admiring the rainbow of values and aspirations within our peer groups, we are casting a dark shadow across our own domains. No matter what we do, we are not good enough. Not right enough. I have a good friend who has been studying Arabic for over ten years. He is living in the West Bank and I am in constant awe of his beautiful elocution whenever we wander the streets together. Its sounds like a dance. He has recently been struggling with whether to give up or not because he doesn’t feel like he’ll ever be good enough. Another friend has been working in social justice in various forms for nearly a decade. She volunteers for women's empowerment organizations, has been a lobbyist for a number of environmental causes, and is dedicating her savings and her life’s work to become a social worker to help troubled youth. And she recently called me in hysterics, mourning the expansive gap between her aspirations and her reality – the kids she can’t fix, the bills she didn’t help pass, the drowning sensation that the world will never ever be as bright as she envisions. And I was seeing these examples surface only after I began to acknowledge the profundity of this question in my own life. 

The angel and demon – the latter of which is far better at getting our attention – continue to argue in our ears. You’re not good enough. You’re not doing it right. What is right? What is the right way to make a difference? What is the right way to achieve the American dream? Do you focus on impact or on what brings you the greatest joy?

Amidst a whirlwind of celebrations and spontaneous adventures this weekend, I found out that I was accepted as a head coach at the Ultimate Peace summer camp this June. Ever since I heard about Ultimate Peace back in 2009, I’d planted the seed in my aspirations pot to become a coach.  Maybe I’m doing it all wrong; or maybe I’m doing my best but we’re trapped in a system that itself is wrong. Sometimes I feel like a social chiropractor, financially positioned atop the shoulders of the Man whose back I’m trying to realign.

 Instead of taking a moment to soak up the honor of this coveted and prestigious position - “holy crap! I did it!” - I immediately shifted to thinking of the friends and family I would disappoint by not coming home to the two weddings this summer; wondering if that means I’m staying in Israel; how I’ll fund the coaching opportunity and my life here in general; do I get a work visa or stick with this program for longer; which then got me angry and confused about why I keep having to pay to live out my professional dreams.

I remember a conversation with my friend the Arabic speaker, who was pondering giving up after ten years because if you can’t be fluent, then what’s the point? I remember asking him – but does it still bring you more joy than frustration? He said For now. And I said, Ok. There’s your answer. That sounded so great and ommmmm in the moment, but as it plays out in reality, does that answer convert into sucking away your own stability and savings in the name of your cause? Draining your energy on behalf of children whom you can never therapize enough to make the world bright again? Giving up friends you know you have at home in place of an unending line of question marks? Working in a job that may or may not actually be having the impact hope for? What is right or wrong? (And do the measurements come in meters or yards?) And then what the hell is that success, because that line will move again as soon as we focus on it – like a star you can only see from the corner of your eye. My friends' conversations shocked me - from the outside I see them as such remarkable individuals who are taking great and joyful strides in improving themselves and the world around them. But, as evidenced by these conversations over the past couple of weeks, I am not the only one toting around this rigid measurement of inadequacy. To know that they, too, aren't feeling enough in their world brought simultaneous darkness and light into my perspective because I wouldn’t be bringing this up it were not a question rooted deep within my own innards, walloping my thoughts with that hostile yardstick. But to see such tremendous individuals who feel the same made me realize that it's not just me, but instead a whole thought paradigm shift that we need to work on together.

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This week is Purim. While there is an expanding movement of sexy bunnies, slutty nurses, and half-naked Smurfs, the true meaning of Purim is to dress up as what you truly want to become – like masking yourself to reveal your true identity. There were light of God fairies, mother natures, and I put a couple of balloon monkeys on my shoulders and painted a Namaste sign on my cheek to signify being Zen amidst all the external chatter. (The next day I went out with Speedy Gonzalez in an ultra-orthodox hat & hair twizzles that my roommate lent me, which had no significance whatsoever except that my monkey scarf smelled like beer.)

               

After a night of dancing in the market, in which Elvises, disco men, astronauts, Zorros, and leprechauns lined the tables and alleys in place of the strawberries and slaughtered chickens, I eventually made my way to the soup kitchen – my weekly Sunday hangout. I was scooping couscous into dinner trays and trying to keep down my holy Tylenol, and all of a sudden it hit me. No – I did not vomit. All of the angst of this big decision fell away and I knew deep in my gut that I want to stay here and be a part of this Ultimate Peace camp. I want to stay another year; I will figure out how to raise the money (each counselor is charged with fund raising $800 for the organization); I will figure out a work visa and a job; I will figure it out. I started to laugh and my co-worker looked at me warily, Do you need another burreca? (a fried pastry with potato and cheese – ie my breakfast to keep down the holy Tylenol). No. I just know what I want. I just made a decision. He backed away anyway – I think he was afraid I was either going to throw up or switch to tears.

My phone rang. My friends from Ultimate Peace were inviting me to the Dead Sea – a trip I’d been failing at planning for nearly two months. We’re leaving  in half an hour. I felt like this was a little gift from the universe for finally letting go and listening – like a gold star from the cosmic teacher. Sometimes a little monkey business and patience are all that we need to provide some perspective. Is there a right and wrong? Probably. But it’s like asking if a snapshot is right or wrong; but at the moment, I’m just trying to enjoy creating the album.

I made it back from the Dead Sea in time for one more hurrah at Purim…Like I said, it was a packed weekend: