Happy New Year 5782! On Golden Threads, Mush, and Cool Ranch Glitter

Hey there, my name is Rabbi Jodi Gordon, and I am pumped to be joined by Rabbi Jen Gubitz as we welcome you to the OMFG podcast, Jewish wisdom for unprecedented times. Hey, Jen.

Hey, friend. OMFG, what a fabulous 4-letter word. Those 4 letters really do the trick. From OMFG, summer's almost over, To OMFG, it's almost Rosh Hashanah. To OMFG, Delta variant. As rabbis, we have come to know that when the stories of our lives meet the stories of Jewish tradition, transformation, growth, something awesome occurs.

Jen and I are experts in the letters J and G: procrastinating, buying the same dress from Target in multiple colors, and ice cream. And we want to bring you to our conversations that express our love for Judaism and make it relevant in the world as we mine Jewish wisdom for strength and resilience in these unprecedented times, with a dose of humor, because as Lord Byron said, "Always laugh when you can.

It's cheap medicine." So let's start by naming something. It's been a while. Jodi, we haven't recorded together since June, and it feels like a lot has happened since then.

I know. OMFG, we've missed you. But actually, despite our absence out here in podcast world, Jen, you and I have actually seen a lot of each other. I think we saw each other 4 separate times this summer.

Totally. A lot of mileage on the Mass Pike made for a very OMFG summer, which in some ways is a fitting segue into this welcome back episode as we make our way from summer into all that comes next. Perhaps we can start with an old-fashioned game of what did you do on your summer vacation? Jody, what have you been up to?

Well, I did put 2,500 miles on my car from the end of June to the beginning of August, so I did a lot of driving and a lot of visiting. I welcomed a new niece into the world. I got to meet baby Ruthie. Shout out to the new parents, Andrew and Sam. I hung out with you. I took my kids to day camp. I went swimming as much as humanly possible. Perhaps my favorite thing that I did, which I will do tonight one last time for summer 2021, is I went to Tanglewood, which is totally one of my happy places. So, uh, in a lot of ways it has been a wonderful summer. What about you, Jen?

Well, on May 30th we moved into our new condo, so that's been a theme all along. I went to New Orleans in June to see my family for the first time in quite some time, which was a true delight. I, um, Jodi, you and I went to Tanglewood with our husbands for Fourth of July. I spent a lovely Fourth of July weekend in the Berkshires, and then Matan and I went on a trip to see his parents, to see our best family friends that I grew up with in the Jersey Shore. Then we went to Beacon, New York, spent Shabbat in a winery with the great Danielle Radnitzky. Then you and I went to see Dar Williams. So many Berkshires trips, which was such a delight. And you and I also led Shabbat services together a few times, which was a real joy.

That was actually one of the highlights of my summer. Like, no exaggeration. I'm not being sarcastic. Truly. Because of course, in the background of all the fun things, I worked a lot this summer. And so— Welcoming folks back to our synagogue in person outdoors has been a joy and a challenge, and getting to share the bima with you was a lot of fun.

It was so nice to sing together in harmony. So what a summer. And now today we make our way, we continue to make our way through the Hebrew month of Elul and get ready to welcome this new year of 5782. So we're looking back on the summer that was and mining that time for wisdom as we get ready to move ahead.

So as we look back on the summer and begin to grapple with this resurgence of COVID and its implications for the year ahead, there's this phrase that I keep thinking about, and I keep referring to the last 2 months as a holy havsakah. So havsakah is the Hebrew word for a break or a pause, and I, I just can't stop thinking about that message we were getting in the early summer that vaccines meant freedom, right? Like that we should go celebrate July 4th and have fun. And it's not that I thought the pandemic was over, but I definitely started living a more expansive version of my life in terms of boundaries and safety. And what was I gonna do?

Absolutely, we traveled. I flew on an airplane and wasn't as terrified to breathe if I needed to. We ate inside some restaurants. I tried on clothing in stores, and it really seemed like a break from what had been in such a refreshing way that we really needed.

Totally. But the thing with a havsakah, right, a break or an intermission, intermission, right, is that it comes to an end.

That was very like Boston of you. An intermission.

I'm just yearning for more travel on the Mass Pike, I guess. But you know, Jen, you mentioned this earlier, but at the beginning of August, we had those tickets to go see the amazing, amazing Darr Williams with the Neals perform outdoors. It was an incredible, incredible concert.

It was. It was a gorgeous evening. The sky was so gorgeous. We ate from this wonderful restaurant called Tate. We also experienced Cool Ranch Dorito seasoned potato chips, which were fabulous.

And quick pause about the potato chips. So I brought home the leftovers and my children keep talking about them. They're like, what happened to that bag of the sparkly potato chips? Because they had like visible Cool Ranch seasoning on them and they look like sparkles, I guess, to them. And I was like, oh right.

I think what we learned about that is that Cool Ranch goes well with everything, most things, most things. But so at that D.A.R. concert It was wonderful. The neils beforehand were really amazing. I had never heard them live. And then Dar was, I feel like, teaching, preaching, singing beautifully. And she gave rabbis a shout out, which was super unexpected. And in that moment, we also realized who all the other clergy present were as they started to send text messages and Facebook messages being like, are you at the Dar Williams concert too?

I know, that was an amazing moment. It was also a moment where I realized, like, I realized what I don't know, which is that, like, the greater Boston MetroWest area, that, like, there's a lot of you all there, and you all do sort of know each other. And I felt like the little country mouse who, like, snuck across the Mass Pike under the radar. I was like, I'm here too. So I have, I have long joked that Dar Williams is one of my rabbis, and that concert was no exception because she said something that I, I keep thinking about, and I think it really applies to this particular moment. And she was talking about this idea of golden threads. Now, I'm going to admit something, which is that I started paying attention like maybe a sentence or two into her thoughts. So it's possible that this is my take on her words. But I do think that she was saying this in the context of the experience of this past summer. And she was talking about how for many of us, we did take that message of if you're vaccinated, go out and live your life to heart. And so we did. And looking back now, I keep thinking about this summer as this, like, you know, pandemic halftime holy havdalah. And then Dor brings up this idea about golden threads, and she invited the audience to think about their own golden threads. And she defined those as the people, the places, and the experiences that you return to again and again across the ages and stages of your lifetime because it is those places and people and experiences that are comforting and meaningful to you. And it got me thinking about my own golden threads. Like, what were the things that I did and the people I saw and the places I went as soon as I felt like it was possible? Right? Even while keeping my circle in my life relatively small because— unvaccinated children— I do feel like I went after those golden threads hard this summer. I spent time in Brooklyn. I saw my brother and my sister-in-law, my parents. I walked around my old neighborhood in Park Slope with an iced coffee in my hand and and it felt so good. I went to concerts. I had friends on our porch. We ate a lot of burrata and tomatoes and it was so delicious and it filled me up literally and figuratively. And those were those golden threads. And I think, you know, that concert Jen was on August 5th. And it feels like we were, like we knew we were at the top of the roller coaster, but we didn't know what the ride down would look like. And now here we are.

Yeah, I think you forgot stone fruit. You ate a lot of stone fruit also, Jodi.

I'm still eating a lot of stone fruit.

I know, I know.

It's like, it's time to shine. Peaches, plums, nectarines for life.

I, I do think— I don't know if I knew we were at the top of the roller coaster, honestly, but we similarly— I had friends come over and sit on the couch, um, to attend online conferences together. I felt like I could hug people again, and that was just frankly more necessary than I realized. And so those golden threads really— that, that really stuck out to you, I know. And it actually reminded me of a different golden thread I had seen recently. So on our most recent vacation, in which we went to a lot of places, we spent time with my best family friends in Brigantine on the Jersey Shore. The Saritors, Jen and Steve, are pretty outstanding people. Jen is an early childhood master educator and Steve is retired from the theater and set light design educational world. And even more so, Jen is a master volunteer. An example, every day she would bring a bag to walk the beach and clean up people's trash. And they are basically serving as tech support for the entire over-70 Jewish crowd in their town. And I even helped with that a little bit while I was there. So it was no surprise to me that they are also doing their part to repair the world. In this case, raising butterflies. Monarch butterflies, to be precise, who, like many other creatures in our world, are suffering from habitat changes and global warming. So Jen and Steve have taken it upon themselves to support the monarch population in their laundry room. Where they have set up Monarch Central, have planted their favorite food, milkweed, throughout the entire island, and created a space for them to transform from caterpillar to butterfly, resulting in releasing them into the world only to start the process again. So, two thing— two asides: my parents have been doing this in New Orleans as well, and Etsy has just alerted me that the mezuzah with a monarch on it that I sent for the laundry room which is not a real place that you put a mezuzah, is arriving at Jen and Steve's door any minute now. So I'm very excited. So the truth is, is that I'm not super into creepy crawly things. And the picture of me holding a monarch does not include a smile. But I did want to humor their investment in monarchs. And after looking really closely, I noticed something I had never seen before. Especially after, you know, studying them in elementary school. But monarchs have a stunning golden beaded loop around their pupa. I'm more of a silver person myself, but this aspect of their transformation is a gold color I've rarely seen in nature. Some butterfly resources refer to this as their diadem, literally their golden crown, kind of like Queen Vashti or Esther. It actually takes 24 hours after it's created until it sparkles, kind of like the Cool Ranch dust on the chips, Jodi. Now, for linguists, that the part of the chrysalis is gold should be no surprise because that's actually what the word chrysalis means. It's derived from the Greek chrysos, meaning gold. So noticing this gold thread around the chrysalis reminded me of the tremendous beauty and fragility of nature, as did looking up close at a monarch. They are so stunning. And their travel path is also remarkable. And Jodi, you had something interesting about butterflies from a book with your girls, right?

I did. I did. There's this book that my 7-year-old loves for bedtime, and it's called The Very Impatient Caterpillar. It's a great book. It's written by Ross Barak. And the whole book is about, you guessed it, a caterpillar that doesn't have a whole lot of patience. So this impatient caterpillar wants so desperately to become a butterfly but basically freaks out when the other caterpillars tell them that it's going to be a 2-week process. The book is really funny, it's sweet, and eventually that little caterpillar figures out how to go zen and chill and the 2 weeks slip away and then it becomes a very impatient butterfly. But what I love about the story is something that I learned after reading it a bazillion times, and I tried to find the source of this, and I can't remember if it was an interview with the author or maybe it was some parenting group's take on the story, but basically it's this: transformation does take time and patience, for sure. But the one thing that this amazing children's book sort of glosses over is that it's not just this chill out and be zen and then you'll become a butterfly. But actually, the caterpillar has to turn to total mush first. It's a mess inside the chrysalis. So a butterfly is not just a caterpillar that learned to chill out. A butterfly is this totally transformed being, something new that emerges out of the messiness. So there's something you said about the golden thread that a butterfly has, that it's just this moment. So the Kabbalistic, uh, the red thread bracelets Yeah, right. So like that, that people would wear. For our listeners who've never seen this before, walk down the steps into the Old City and someone will likely try to give you a red thread bracelet, maybe with an evil eye or a hamsa on it. And the whole idea is like this idea of the red thread, it has biblical roots, right? It was something that would be like protective. And I'm just thinking that maybe this is our, our directive, our moment as we move into what I think is probably going to be a less comfortable fall. I think it's going to be less expansive. I hate to say it, but I feel like there's going to be fewer hugs and maybe fewer porch-top dinners. I don't know. But maybe this is the time for like the golden thread around our wrists that remind us, right, of like what it is that we're protecting, right? The ability to go back to those people and places and experiences that are so meaningful and nourishing. And that if we can get it right, if we can move through this next narrow and constrictive place of the pandemic and get more people vaccinated, right, and keep more people safe and get to the point where children can get vaccinated, that those golden threads will be there for us on the other side.

And to extend that, I love what you said, Jodi. To extend that, I'm actually thinking about Yom Kippur. It's the one night of the year where we wear a tallis. You know, rabbis wear tallit prayer shawls all the time, but, but only for congregants in the morning, for people who are praying in the morning. And I'm thinking of that moment when we wrap ourselves in that prayer shawl with its fringes, right? Those, those threads of our tradition on the holiest, scariest day of the year too, right? That, um, we do turn to mush in that moment. And it's all in hopes that we come out not even a butterfly, although they're beautiful, but like a slightly purer version of ourselves than we were when we entered. So whether it is a red string, a gold string, a gold sweatshirt, or something really cozy, or a prayer shawl on Yom Kippur. I think I just love this idea that we can find a way to comfort ourselves with these threads that connect us and connect us to Jewish tradition as well.

Beautiful.

So our lives are somewhere between mush and golden threads. And I think butterflies and all of these golden images are a beautiful image for these last weeks of Elul as we enter the High Holy Days. Rosh Hashanah doesn't just make the mush go away, nor is it all golden. Yom Kippur doesn't make the mush all go away, nor is it all golden. Rather, both are part of the process of becoming our kindest, most comfortable selves. So we want to offer a blessing for this moment as we enter into this new year together, and it was written by Rabbi Laura Geller. With a nod towards Rosh Hashanah.

Your book of life doesn't begin on Rosh Hashanah. It began when you were born. Some of the chapters were written by other people—your parents, siblings, and teachers. Parts of your book were crafted out of experiences you had because of other people's decisions—where you lived, what schools you went to, what your homes were like. But the message of these High Holy Days is that everything can be made new again, that much of your book is written every day by the choices you make.

The book is not written and sealed. You get to edit what is inscribed there, decide what parts you want to emphasize and remember, and maybe even which parts you want to leave behind. Shanah Tovah means both a good year and a good change. Today you can change the rest of your life. It's never too late. So we wish you a year of good health, joy, vaccines, Cool Ranch sparkles, and lots of golden threads connecting you to everyone you love. Shanah Tovah. This episode of the OMFG podcast was brought to you by rabbis Jen Gubitz and Jodi Gordon, editing brilliance by Jesse Ulrich, and brought to you by the letter F.

Atah Adonai Eloheinu melech haolam.

Asher Kitchan.