Goodbye to the Aughts, Baby!

Is it too late to write about New Years? Your blogger spent the holidays trying to take care of a sore throat/cold that (thanks to the very good Doctor at the local urgent care clinic) turned out to be strep throat. As a result, the January 1st posting has waited four days to germinate. However, I've been happy to have a few days to think about it.

2009 was a challenging year for all, but I like to think that in the crucible of the most intense recession of our lives, I learned how to prioritize better, to become more creative and resourceful in my work, and to not just accept things as they are. I think we'll collectively look back on the past year and be grateful about how we avoided the worst that might have been. Some will disagree, saying that Obama has taken us on an inexorable march towards socialism, but I disagree and refuse to digress.

What I've been thinking about the most is how we are now (arguably, at least) at the beginning of a new decade. There have been a few reminiscences about what this means in terms of the best television of the last ten years (I say in many cases that's an oxymoron), but honestly this one snuck up on me. I think this has been such a challenging decade that we don't feel much like celebrating it. More like turning the page on ten difficult years and hoping that the teens will be better.

What to make of this decade? What to call it? I do like the "aughts" because it sounds like the way the gentleman at the top would refer to it. It's hard to think of a personal pronoun to attach it to. The "me decade" is already taken, and the "us decade" doesn't fit. Maybe the iDecade because of the fast pace of technology. But here's what I'm thinking about what we were like from 1999 to 2009.

We were angry for much of the time. The decade started with the final fallout from the Lewinsky scandal. (Remember that one? Impeaching a President over a sex act seems, to borrow a term from the subsequent administration, "quaint".) Republicans manufactured a great deal of anger on their side, and Democrats felt like the President they voted for had betrayed them or been unjustly maligned. What a mess. Then George W. Bush and his minions squeaked by in the 2000 election. There are very strong arguments that they manipulated or stole votes in Florida, but at the very least it was an election in which 50 million people voted for his opponent and the other side, had it been as assertive as the Republicans, could have won just as easily. Did Bush govern with the "unity government" as was suggested? Of course not.

Then a litany of infuriating things followed. Worldcom. Enron. The failure of the Iraq war. The disaster of Katrina. On and on and on. And of course, the signature event of this decade and possibly our lives, the September 11th attacks.

September 11th channeled this anger, mixed with intense fear, and created a sense of rage and fear that drove politics for the rest of the decade.

I've wanted to write for a long time about September 11th and haven't been able to put it to words. This is not the time or place for that reminiscence, but if my own experience is any indication, the event brought forth an incredibly complex range of emotions, both all at once and over time: anger; rage; fear; deep, deep sadness, loneliness, powerlessness. I think our country went through a similar experience. We felt a great many things but internalized most of them. They manifested themselves in what I can only call a "rage-based" foreign policy under the Bush administration, focused on avenging the deaths of those killed in New York, Washington and Pennsylvania. It resulted in what we thought would be an easy war to defeat Saddam Hussein, the hated Arab bogeyman and "appropriate" scapegoat; new interpretations of laws allowing the torture and indefnite imprisonment of our enemies; and a go-it-alone approach that alienated us from nearly all of our allies except the U.K., Israel and Australia. I think we're coming out of this funk but it lasted long enough to permeate our domestic politics as well. Witness the hyperbole and screaming about "socialist" stimulus packages and "Nazi policy" being made through healthcare reform.

With a new decade, I hope that we'll no longer be driven by anger and fear. I hope the recession is teaching us to live in a more grateful way and to appreciate our neigbors, rather than to be driven to annoyance or worse by our differences.

Interfaith at Christmastime: The Beginning of a Dialogue

One of my motivations for starting a blog was to begin a dialogue — or at least a monologue in the form of essays — on matters that I think about often. One of the things that often on my mind is the nature of religious identity in a diverse society. For me, this means that I'm part of the interfaith community. (Yes, as the picture to the right indicates, we have a Hannukah menorah and we put up Christmas decorations. The photo is from last year, when the holidays coincided.) With Christmas coming up — a Christian holiday that also has important secular meanings in our world — I'd like to begin a discussion of what it means to be interfaith.

The Merriam-Webster definition of "interfaith" is conventional, in the sense of its emphasis on the involvement of people of different religious faiths. In many instances, it is accurate. A Google search for "interfaith dialogue" yields some 514,000 results , includling efforts to promote interfaith dialogue on post 9/11 relations between Islam and the rest of the world and the AIDS crisis. These are ad hoc discussions that bring together people of diverse religious backgrounds to find common understanding of the world's major problems.

While these efforts are important, focusing on the ecumenical elements of interfaith dialogue, I think, fails to account for the many people who are in my situation. Namely, that I'm a person who grew up in a Jewish family, married a Catholic, and who, while secure in my own faith wants to make sure that my children have, as they are developing and growing, the security that comes from both faiths without feeling like outsiders or freaks. My family is very fortunate to have found the Interfaith Families Project (IFFP), here in Washington. It's a community of several hundred families, which share the same interest that we have in raising our children with the perspective of both faiths. We're very lucky to have become part of this extraordinary group. We're even teaching a Sunday school class on the life of Jesus, which has been a wonderful experience so far.

This is a very complex topic and I won't handle it all in one post. After this introduction, I'll be writing next about how I came to be part of an interfaith family. I'll follow that up with a "This I Believe" posting. Finally, I'll be posing some questions about interfaith life.

But I want to begin with a few stories.

I'm about ten years old, driving with my grandparents to their beach apartment. I've never even thought about kissing a girl but my grandparents are telling me and my sister about how they'd like us to marry Jewish people. I totally understood where they were coming from but even then something sounded wrong to me about thinking I couldn't love or marry someone because they didn't share my faith...

...It's my first week of college. My floormate Will, hailing from rural Arkansas, is asking all of us if we're Jewish (about two thirds of us are) — what he means is if we keep kosher, because he wants to cook some jambalaya for us. We thank him and assure him that even though we are "members of the tribe," we can eat his dish. "Good!" he says. "Jambalaya, dude!"...

...I'm hanging out with a dear friend from high school and her parents. Her mom says that marrying someone who isn't Jewish is like letting Hitler win...

...April 28th, 2001: my beautiful bride Melissa and I exchange vows in a Catholic cathedral, under a huppah, with a rabbi and a priest officiating. Two-thirds of a good joke, I say. Also the foundation of a wonderful life together. How blessed we are...

...This past fall, I'm at a book launch event for a study of the expatriate Indian Jewish community living in Israel, and am talking with two women my grandmothers' age about being interfaith, and doing my best to raise my children with the best of both traditions. One says she's an atheist and could't imagine raising her children with any religion. The other purses her lips and clucks, seemingly amazed that a young person would try anything so stupid.

I'm not the first person who has tried to express what it's like to grow up interfaith. Susan Katz Miller, a fellow IFFP member, has a blog that explores these issues far more eloquently than I could. There are no right answers here. Few people have tried to do this, and many, particularly in older generations, can't imagine why one would try to "be both." I like to think that it's one of the greatest advantages of living in a society as diverse as ours. There is no longer a "gentleman's agreement" restricting Jewish enrollment in major universities, or Jewish hires in businesses or agencies. And if we choose, we can marry anyone we want, and be accepted into their families.

So let's begin the discussion. Next, how I came to this happy place.

The Dance of the Sugarplum Interfaith Fellow

I have a confession to make. I love "The Nutcracker," the short ballet written (and some say, disavowed by) the great Russian composer Peter Ilyitch Tchaikovsky, which has in the last half-century become one of the hallmarks of the holiday season, especially in the United States. The music in it is so much a part of the popular ethos that it's been appropriated by TV commercials and even Duke Ellington. (The image at the right is the backdrop for the second act, set in the Land of the Sugarplum Fairy, from the original production.)

I've been thinking about Nutcracker a lot lately because it arouses a lot of emotions in people, ranging from warm feelings of winter afternoons gone by to "ugh, I hate it." For me, it's a touchstone experience because I see it through the eyes of someone who is "interfaith" -- a theme which I'd like to begin exploring in this blog.

By interfaith, I don't mean "ecumenical" -- in other words, including people of many faiths in dialogue, particularly with issues that are important in modern society. These days we often hear about interfaith approaches to healthcare, or AIDS, or the war on terrorism. I mean something that I and many other families have direct experience with: the work involved in creating a family in which one spouse is of one faith (usually Christian), another spouse is of another faith (often Jewish), and the children, it is hoped, grow up with at least an appreciation for both.

"Nutcracker" resonates for me here because my experience with is is very much interfaith. I grew up Jewish, in a family that was, on the one hand, very assimilated. We didn't keep kosher or go to synagogue regularly. But Christmas was often an isolating time in our house, in the sense that we didn't participate in any of the secular elements of the season. To this day, some in my immediate family are openly hostile to the holiday, resisting going to Christmas parties or dinners if invited, turning of holiday music when it plays on the radio, and so on. A recent blog posting by the JCC here in Washington talked about one parent's ambivalence about "Nutcracker."

My mom, who still takes ballet class, first took me to the ballet when I was about five to see "The Nutcracker." If I hadn't wimped out at the last minute, I would have been in my elementary school's talent show as a kindergartener dancing around to soldier music from the first act. This year, I bought a copy of the wonderful ABT production with Mikhail Baryshnikov and Gelsey Kirkland to play for my daughter, who is the same age that I was when I first saw it.

To my mind, "Nutcracker" is wonderful. It's a story that only begins with a Christmas party, but that deals more with the imagination and joy inherent in childhood. A little girl dreams that her toy nutcracker comes to life and takes her to a magical land. That's it. It's based on a short story by the German writer ETA Hoffman, brought to life by a Russian composer, and now part of the cultural zeitgeist of postmodern America. So when I approach it it's not as a Jew, or as a Jew married to a Catholic, but as a human being of one particular background living in a diverse, modern society. The joy in watching this little ballet comes from the dancing, and the music, and reliving the joy I felt seeing it for the first time in seeing my daughter do the same thing.

I'll explore in later postings what exactly being interfaith means to me -- but for the time being, it's back to dancing with the sugarplum fairy.

Toward a More Grateful Afghan People?

I wasn't able to watch President Obama's speech on Afghanistan on Tuesday, but I heard much about it the following day and have been thinking about whether we are doing the right thing. I pulled out something I haven't looked at in a while. It's a Soviet campaign medal from their war in Afghanistan that I picked up from a Moscow street vendor back in 1992.

The reverse, in a master stroke of overestimated gratitude, reads "From the Grateful Afghan People" in Russian and Arabic.

Holding this medal again made me wonder about whether we're doing the right thing here. So in the tradition begun by Peter King in his football column, here are a few"things I think I think."

• The Santayana "Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it" conundrum. I can't help but be reminded that a number of empires have gone into Afghanistan thinking that it will be easy going, only to be bogged down. It was true for the "Great Game" fought in central Asia, it was true for the nine years the Soviets spent in Afghanistan, and it is true for the (at least) ten years that we will have spent in Afghanistan by the time our troops stop leaving.
• Afghanistan was envisioned as a short war, but it oviously did not turn out that way. The chief reason for this was that our forces were moved from Afghanistan to support the Bush/Cheney war on Iraq. If we had the resources on the ground in 2003, this war may well have been over long before now. So it is at the very least not helpful, and at the most a continuation of the Bush administration's pathological lying, lack of accountability, and refusal to admit complete and utter failure for people like Dick Cheney critizize Obama on this, particularly for their perception that domestic politics is driving the decision. This from a group that won the2004 election by branding any opponent of the Iraq war an al Quaeda sympathizer. I think that the new Obama strategy is sound, I'm glad that there is a sense of what success looks like, and I'm glad that the plan includes a set of guardrails to guide withdrawal. I hope that people remember the kind of support that Bush received at the beginning of this war. At least he got the benefit of the doubt that he was doing the right thing. Let's remember that as we think about our current Commander in Chief, who is infinitely more intellectually engaged in his Presidency, and is much better served by his civilian staff, than his predecessor.
• Afghanistan is only a piece of the puzzle. It is naive to think that by winning the war in Afghanistan that we thereby pacify Iran, stabilize Pakistan and decouple the political influence of the Middle East with our almost complete dependence on them for our energy needs. But I agree with my graduate school professor David Rothkopf that it's folly to underestimate the complexity of the raft of issues of which Afghanistan is only a part.

So that's what I believe about where things are in Afghanistan at the moment. Only time will tell if the result is a truly grateful Afghan people or another shiny medal. I'll look forward to seeing what comments are made on this posting--maybe they can be the basis for a future conversation.

Music to be Remembered from 2009

Now that it's holiday season, if you're anything like me (and a lot of people in my family), you start thinking about what music you'd like to share with family and friends. We tend to play more music in our house. The requests started early with the new Bob Dylan Christmas album. Yes, it is out and is not half-bad to listen to. We are truly an interfaith family -- more about that in postings to come -- and "Christmas from the Heart" is very nice to have on in the background. This is "raspy Bob Dylan" rather than "bardic Bob Dylan" so he tends to do better with the folksier songs than the more spiritual ones. (On the latter, the effect is kind of like that old Saturday Night Live sketch with Frankenstein, Tonto, and Tarzan singing carols.)

One thing that's worth noting is the place that iTunes is starting to occupy in terms of how we share music. This blog is not a shill for Apple by any means, but I think they've been able to do what Napster couldn't -- to really change the way that people buy new music, and share what they already have. It's a great resource for trying out new bands -- witness what their partnershp with Starbucks has done for showcasing new artists -- but we also use it to create mixes to share with people at holidays, birthdays and special occasitions. So thank you, Steve Jobs.

And with that in mind, here are five songs that I heard in 2009 that deeply affected me. I think it says a lot for how, even in a challenging economy, artits have been able to find inspiration in old and new musical traditions, and to create songs that are just wonderful. In no particular order, they are:

U2, "Breathe," from No Line on the Horizon: U2 are my favorite band and I suspect I'll be buying their albums until it's time for them to go into the nursing home. But nearly thirty years after their first record, their 2009 effort is still fresh, literate and passionate. I like this track because the first line alludes to Bloomsday, so what's not to like?

Neko Case, "Middle Cyclone," from Middle Cyclone: I've always had a thing for women who can sing and write, and was knocked off my feet by this Neko Case song which I heard for the first time on a free Starbucks download. The entire album is outstanding, but in this song, about preparing oneself to love someone, Neko is simultaneously keening, mournful, and beautiful.

Two songs from Sound Kapital, a book of photos and an accompanying CD about the Chinese punk rock underground (see my earlier posting about the show by the photographer, Matthew Niederhauser) that I cannot stop listening to. If you pay attention to international economics and finance like I do, you know about how China and the US have a symbiotic relationship -- they purchase our debt, we purchase their goods. Economic development has created a burgeoning consumer class and has arguably raised the standard of living, but not without raising questions, among the young, about the effect of consumerism on society as a whole. That's what drives a lot of these bands. Two of the most affecting songs on the album are:

E-White, "Spring House": I have never heard anything like this before. No lyrics, but a wall of sound that begins with traditional Chinese strings, layering drums, woodwinds, and finally the most ethereal voice.

Ourself Beside Me, "Sunday Girl" Yes, Chinese bands can do incredible alternative-pop music. This is an all-girl band that blends Eastern and Western, America, Carnaby Street London and a bicycle bell. Oh. My. God. I've played it four times in a row in my car. It doesn't hurt that it shares a title with a Blondie song either.

Duffy, "Mercy," from Rockferry: Duffy is a Welsh singer who was inspired to sing by watching Whoopi Goldberg in "Sister Act." I first heard "Mercy in February and was blown away. Retro, without being tinny or sappy. Wow, wow, wow.

So, there are five great songs worth downloading and sharing -- courtesy of acts from Ireland, the US, China and the UK -- a blending of east and west. Enjoy!

The Obligatory "Things I'm Thankful For" Post

With the turn of the leaves, the finishing of the turkey dinner and the digestion of receipts from Black Friday, one's thoughts turn (if they haven't already) to thoughts of why we actually celebrate this holiday: to express thanks to whatever Creator or other animating force in which we believe for the blessings we have in our lives.

This has not been the easiest year. I think it's safe to say that everyone in our country, no matter how poor or wealthy, has had to deal with the effects of the Great Recession. Some have lost jobs, some have had difficulty finding one. Many have had to rethink plans for their family's education, or buying a house. Some have had to make sacrificies in the running of their business. Some have had to re-adjust their expectations drastically.

But as I've thought many times as I've looked at my professional or my personal life over the last year, times like this help you realize what you are truly capable of. And I'm grateful for having had that experience. Because as hard as the last year has been, I've developed skills I didn't have before, made amazing new acquaintances and friends, and deepened friendships with those with whom I was already close. As I told a friend yesterday, "here's to a year well lived." So here, in no particular order, are the things I'm thankful for this year:

• Beautiful children that giggle and tickle.
• A wife and a marriage that never are fickle.
• Work that absorbs me and isn't a bore.
• Family and friendships that I just adore.

And yes, the resemblance of the rhyme scheme to "My Favorite Things" is deliberate.

It's been a very good year. I feel blessed to have a wonderful wife and family, dear friends, and work that keeps me engaged and interested. And one last thing--this was the year that I got into social media, on Facebook, Twitter and this blog. And I'm grateful that in this age, as we've lost our connections to each other as a society in so many ways, that we are finding new tools to help us relate to each other better.

So, good night, and here's to many blessings coming our way between now and next Thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving Translates Well into Russian and French

I'll likely have a few other thoughts on Thanksgivging over the coming weekend. But it's starting to feel a lot like the holiday already. About two-thirds of the people in my office will be gone tomorrow, people are not returning phone calls for the rest of the week, and one's thoughts are turning to copious amounts of food, football, friends, and family. (How's that for allitereration?)

Two things come to mind. First of all, the Russian translation of Thanksgiving is den' blagodarenie, which does lend some cross-cultural relevance to the fourth Thursday in November. Hence the photo of me in the Soviet officer's cap which I smuggled out of the not-quite independent Russian Federation in 1992. (That, and per the request by a bitchin' expatriate fellow blogger in the UK.)

Secondly, the French translation of Thanksgiving is "le jour de merci donnant," or at least it is according to the late, great columnmist Art Buchwald. He had an uproariously funny Thanksgiving column that ran in the Washington Post for many, many years until recently. In my family we made it a tradition to read it every Thanksgiving morning. Here is the link for you to read avant manger votre dinde.

I'll share what I'm thankful for after the tryptophan kicks in. Happy Thanksgiving!