The Good Enough Episode

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

Hey, friend. OMFG, what a fabulous 4-letter word. I mean, honestly, are there really any other letters that make sense right now? Those 4 letters really do the trick from "OMFG, everyone has COVID" to "OMFG, it feels like March 2020 again" to "OMFG, I just can't." As rabbis, we have come to know that when the stories of our lives meet the stories of Jewish tradition, transformation, growth, something awesome happens.

Jodi and I are experts in the letters J and G. Primal Screams, and honestly, who knows anymore? 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 let's face it, if we don't laugh, we'll cry. Jodi, omfg, how are you doing?

Um, you know, still waiting on those precedented times.

I know, but then we'd have to change our podcast logo. Since we last met, it does feel like here in the Northeast something has really shifted, and it has been hard.

Yeah, it feels like, I don't know, some— something shifted like right before Christmas, and we just— we, we've been riding a really, uh, a rough wave for a long time. And, uh, I don't know, maybe the wave is the right metaphor, um, and it— because we're waiting for that peak, right? Here in Massachusetts, I keep hearing like the peak will be January 22nd or February 1st, depending on who you ask. Um, so it feels like we're just like still surfing that like really, really rough wave that I wish we could get off of.

Yeah, and how do we like ride the wave? You know, equanimity. Musar would say equanimity is like how you ride the wave, but when it's a tsunami That's a very difficult thing to do.

I know. Actually, 4 years ago right now, I was in Nosara, Costa Rica, learning how to surf, which is A, really fun, and B, really hard. And maybe that's what I need to remember, is that even in beautiful, relatively calm waters, surfing is still hard. So maybe to get us started, a quick game of what early pandemic behavior have you recently picked up again? I can— I'm happy to get us started because I definitely felt the shift backwards when I added Comfort Cheetos to my Instacart order. What about you, Jen?

Comfort Cheetos have actually been my liturgical response as well. The real question is, is if you go for baked or not. No, I have been eating them some days and I couldn't tell the difference between like Cheeto orange fingers or like bloody cuticle. It was getting that bad. Also need a manicure. Which I'm not going to do. I also started making Annie's gluten-free, dairy-free mac and cheese, which I typically eat with peas and tuna fish, but I have upped my game and added edamame. However, some people thought it was lima beans, and I was like, who do you think I am?

I mean, that actually sounds kind of elegant. I could be into that. I mean, I think the thing about early pandemic behaviors, right, is that they serve their purpose at the time, and returning to them actually doesn't feel like super comforting. I know that Also because it's freezing cold here. The other fun part of this surge and its timing is that there's been at least now 2 full weekends where I look to my husband at 7:00, 8:00 in the morning when we're just up and the girls are just up and they want to watch TV or they want to be on their Kindle. And we're like, we don't have anything to do today. This is our day. We're just going to be in the house. And either we're going to go and try to be Camp Counselor of the Year and do a million projects. And be really cheerful, or we're just going to be like Paul Rudd in Wet Hot American Summer, throwing our tray around the cafeteria and being like, I don't care. Take your Kindle. Here's some mac and cheese. You might be able to guess which one I felt like being.

That's a deeply appropriate response. There's this place in Boston called Bow Market, and they have tables with fire pits in them. And so I have been trying to get friends to go with me to those because I love a good fire pit. But I was supposed to go with Rabbi Julie Bressler last weekend and it was going to be 12 degrees. And we felt like that we shouldn't, we rescheduled. Um, but it just felt like, yeah, no, stay home, stay home and watch Emily in Paris.

School was canceled this week because it was too cold. So, right. So today I'm sort of like the full scene, right? It's like not only you know, is there like a 25% positivity rate or whatever where I live? I think where you live too. Um, but also it's so cold that they, they're just like, sorry, you can't go to school, it's too cold.

No, like the bonfire got lit and was like, nope.

I have to say though, I think the, the hard thing about— I mean, even as we joke about, you know, Cheetos and long days of home— is that most of those early pandemic tricks and treats just aren't cutting it right now. And a lot has changed. So to be back in this place again, even with all that we've learned Right? Even with vaccines and even with boosters, it just feels like a different kind of challenging.

Yeah, I feel like if I send you cases of seltzer, even that won't help anymore.

I mean, seltzer always sparks joy.

Yeah. And that's why this episode of OMFG is your official permission slip to just make it through.

Feel free to use this permission slip with friends, family, your boss, your upstairs neighbor. Anyone.

To whom it may concern, we, the Rabbinic Association of the OMFG Podcast, give permission for you, our beloved listeners, to just make it through.

You're doing your best. We promise.

Whether you got up today and made a bowl of oatmeal with fresh-cut fruit and coffee, or nuked yesterday's pot of coffee and ate a cold slice of pizza, you're doing your best.

I'm not even gonna go there. If you need to postpone that non-essential meeting or take an extra few days to get back to an email, you're doing your best.

You're a little tired. No, you're not. You're exhausted. Close your eyes, take a deep breath, and just sit for a moment. You're doing your best.

If you're feeling anxious, take a look around your space, whether it's your bedroom, your car, or your office. Find 5 things that you can see and say what they are out loud.

Next, find 4 things that you can feel, such as the warmth from your socks, or the softness of your pillow, or my Berkshire blanket that I'm adoring right now. And again, say them out loud. Next, listen for 3 things that you can hear: this podcast, music, wind, barking, or even fireworks. Say those out loud. If you're in a quiet room, you might have trouble finding things you can hear, but it can even be the sound of your tummy rumbling.

Then identify 2 things that you can smell and 1 thing that you can taste. It could be the scent of your linen, the aftertaste of toothpaste, any smells or tastes that you can manage to discover in the moment.

Remember, these senses mean that you're alive and that you're doing your best.

This is your permission slip from us to you to just make it through the next hour and then the rest of today. You're doing your best with what you have and who you are. Find the comfort where you can find the comfort.

Tomorrow is a tomorrow you problem. Take this as permission today to take a break from the worrying, the counting, the doom scrolling, because you're doing your best.

Just keep breathing. You're doing your best.

This is your official permission slip. Take it because you're doing your best.

I think I needed that permission slip too, so thank you for that.

I think we all do, but maybe there's something a little more we can do, even as we just make it through. It feels like a moment of getting back to basics, and this is where I'm reminded about how wise Jewish tradition is.

So wise. And for starters, it feels like it's time for another big shout out to our colleagues. For those who work in synagogues or Jewish day schools, people who run programming and retreats that have made the decision to postpone and cancel or move all virtual, Also, medical professionals, we know that you are taxed beyond belief.

Parents, caregivers, teachers. So for sure, a lot of love to everyone doing their part to help us move through this surge in safety and health.

Jen, I'm thinking about the idea in our tradition of how we make separations between things, right? We separate between the holy and the mundane. We're taught that we're supposed to draw a fence around Torah. We mark time between Shabbat and the rest of the week, between sacred holidays and everyday moments. Judaism tells us that distinction isn't just good, but it's sacred, that it's important to differentiate. So in the spirit of differentiation, I think the first thing that's important to say, as much for our listeners as for ourselves, is that for all of those knee-jerk feelings and memes saying, "Oh, it's March 2020 all over again," it's not. Yes, the uncertainty and this need for last-minute cancellations and changing of plans feels a little too on the nose, but I do think that a lot has changed, both for good and for bad, and to compare it to March 2020 I think isn't giving us enough credit for where we are.

For sure, we've learned so much since then. I mean, for starters, vaccines, boosters, the ability to not 100% go into lockdown because we know better ways of moving through the world with relative safety. And because we know that if we get sick, hopefully our chances of serious illness or hospitalizations are significantly decreased if we are triple vaxxed. That's very different from March 2020. And also since then, Instagram has targeted me with way cuter KN95s. Hey, Maskzy, I see you.

I just bought the 3D ones from like Wellbeing or something. They're also not so cute, but really they're good. You know, I've really been trying to remind myself of everything you just said, Jen. And I think the thing that's hard that makes us sort of revert back to, "OMFG, it's March 2020 all over again," is that feeling of being blindsided. Because I think most of us, at least those of us who aren't working in hospitals or in epidemiology, like, we just didn't see this wave coming. And we had plans. We had big plans. There were trips, and there were programs, and events, and shows. You know, for those of us with freshly vaccinated young children, this winter break was supposed to be the victory lap.

Totally. And it's not. And the fact that it's winter, as we mentioned, in January in New England— shout out to everyone who thought to live in Florida or California— but on top of that, the cold is insult to injury. But I do think that this has the potential to suck just a little bit less if we slow down and go back to basics, like you said. So I'm thinking it's time to let Shabbat carry us for a bit. Light some candles. Drink some wine or whiskey, eat a croissant if you don't have bread, and maybe say a blessing of gratitude that goes something like this: I'm not dead.

Amen. I really like that. You know, I remember that early part of the pandemic when we were all baking challah and Zooming into Shabbat, and it was all a novelty still. And the thing that has shifted and I think also has the potential to be helpful here is that we're much better now at connecting from a distance. We know how to hunker down a little bit and still not feel totally alone.

The Shabbats in the weeks ahead feel like good ones for us to hold on to. I mean, it's Exodus. We're on our way to freedom. And here's the thing: through history, we've been here before, marching through narrow straits, finding light in the darkness, planting seeds despite the cold, and also knowing that it's okay to sit in the straits to sit in the dark, to shiver in the cold. It's what we moderns call grief, and sometimes you just have to be in it. We want to offer you a blessing to go with your permission slip, and the blessing is: We're not dead! Amen!

Amen.