Although they left flailing academic careers to start a small business, it doesn't get more alternative or more in the spirit of tikkun olam than ghost busting

By Keren Tuch

A new year, a new set of first round university offers, and hard decisions to make.  Which university course to do – law, commerce or medicine? Embarking on an alternative career is almost seen as sacrilegious.  Yet people do, and for good reason.

The not-for-profit sector accounts for 9.6% of Australia’s economy, and although Jews do not account for an overwhelming majority of this sector, it is not surprising to find a sprinkling of Jews that work across the field.

Ilana Jaffe, 30, is one such person who decided to choose a career which she was passionate about – tackling homelessness in Melbourne.  Ms. Jaffe is the Health and Human Services Unit Manager at Youth Projects, The Living Room Primary Health Service . Her role is to oversee the drop-in and primary health unit for homeless people with complex healthcare needs.

Ms Jaffe explains that she was motivated to work in this field due to a growing sense of social injustice at how society was structured and fragmented. Growing up in the Jewish Community she could see how fortunate she was to be part of such a vibrant community. When it was time to choose a career path, the  array of choices was overwhelming, but she realised that advocating for social change was important and thus  chose to work in the community sector.

Ms Jaffe loves that her job is closely aligned with her value system and she can practice with integrity.  It may mean she receives less pay than peers of the same age and responsibilities, but she is happy to work in an area she is passionate about, as  personal job satisfaction outweighs the bank account.

Simon Lipschitz, 27, is a rare breed being a Jewish male community worker.  Mr. Lipschitz works in the community sector for a youth and family service team in the Western suburbs of Melbourne.  His motivation? “Knowing that I am making society a better place.”   After studying an undergraduate degree in psychology, he realised his passion was youth and helping those less fortunate.

Mr. Lipschitz grew up in the small Jewish Community of Adelaide where he became a member of the youth group Habonim Dror.  A lot of habonim activities were focused on social justice themes, which partly influenced Lipschitz’s values.  He was also taught the necessary leadership skills at Habonim to work with youth in his work environment.  His friends are all in the corporate sector, but that doesn’t bother him.  His friends can’t relate to the work that he does, but they react favorably to his career choice.

Jordi Kraus, 23, is also working in the community sector for the homeless.  Kraus is excited to work in this industry as there are current governmental reforms to help create a paradigm shift from ’servicing’ homelessness to actually breaking the cycle of homelessness. It was a natural progression after a meaningful volunteer experience with Sudanese refugees at Jewish Aid Australia, and an internship at Global Poverty Project.  Although she is at the beginning of her career, she plans to continue to work in this sector and hopes to move into international development down the track.

However, Ms. Kraus also acknowledges a societal change in how people can contribute. “We are undergoing a huge shift in terms of cross-sector collaboration to achieve social innovation and social justice. Social justice is no longer the domain of an isolated ‘charity’ sector.”

Jewish welfare workers are there for the job satisfaction of tangibly making the world a better place.  They face difficulties ranging from lack of resources to a mountain of bureaucracy, but find their careers worthwhile and rewarding.

These people are not your mainstream Jewish accountants, doctors or lawyers, but they are also highly skilled and passionate about what they do.  And arguably living a real Jewish life through their job.

If anyone is interested in volunteering at the Living Room Primary Health Service www.youthprojects.org.au, please contact Ms. Jaffe via email:

Ilanaj AT youthprojects.org.au

A volunteer from Jewish Aid Australia with Indigenous youth. Image source: JAA

By Keren Tuch

Does charity begin at home? It’s an issue many of us have grappled with, and a significant consideration for the Jewish community.

Recently, I attended a panel at the Melbourne Writers’ Festival exploring this very issue. The panel comprised: an academic and ex-politician, a human rights journalist, and an activist currently working in Fiji. To my surprise, there was an overwhelming consensus that charity should begin at home.

The discussion began with an assessment of the Queensland Flood appeal, moving to a consideration of how much foreign aid Australia should be giving. Gareth Evans, the academic on the panel, argued that Australia is wealthy enough to provide for people in need both locally and abroad.

Evans referred to a study asking Australians how much they think the Australian government is spending in foreign aid. The average response was 10% of GDP, when actually it’s 0.35%. Foreign Minister Kevin Rudd has committed to raising that figure to 0.5% of GDP by 2015, which is $8 billion.  The UN would like to see all wealthy countries giving 0.7%, of GDP, which Sweden, Luxembourg, Norway, Netherlands and Denmark have already surpassed.

Of course, helping those in need is not just about throwing billions of dollars at the issue. In considering where to give money, it is imperative to consider the difference between long-term sustainable aid and short-term emergency aid, which is delivered immediately after a disaster strikes.

Additionally, the public needs to be better informed about issues. Currently East Africa is suffering the worst famine in 60 years. A projected 12 million people across Somalia, Ethiopia, Kenya and Djibouti are affected. Images of skeletal infants have been proliferated in the media. Jo Chandler, the writer on the Melbourne Writers’ Festival panel, suggested there needs to be better, and more, reporting that goes beyond the horror story.

It was also suggested it may help to highlight the individuals in need, rather than the overwhelming mass of starving people – this issue is explored by New York Times writer Nick Kristof, in Save The Darfur Puppy. Kristof sugges the evidence is overwhelming that people are more inclined to give money to an individual than to 12.4 million malnourished Africans.

This panel discussion made me think about charity and the Jewish Community.  As a whole, we are a wealthy community. And while I would agree charity at home is important, it should by no means end there.

Perhaps Rabbi Hillel put it best in Pirkei Avot, The Ethics of the Fathers, when he said:

“If I am not for myself, who will be for me? If I am only for myself, what am I? And if not now, when?”

Keren Tuch is Education Director at Jewish Aid Australia

There were many thought provoking events on last week in honour of Refugee Week, including the confronting SBS series Go Back To Where You Came From, discussed here and here.

One event I attended was a forum put on by the Ethnic Communities’ Council of Victoria and Multicultural Arts Victoria which was titled Labels & Liabilities: When is a refugee no longer a refugee?  This interesting question was addressed by  three people who came here as refugees themselves; Mr. Kot Monoah, Ms. Nyadol Nyuon and Ms. Mmaskepe Sejoe.  The refugees varied in age and backgrounds but were united on a few common issues.

The word refugee can have a positive meaning, although the only example the speakers referred to was the provision of services by the Australian government or other organisations.  Otherwise, the label was a liability.

A label like refugee, asylum seeker or Jew places people in boxes and in turn affects how both the individuals view themselves, and how the ‘others’ perceive them.   If a refugee kid is misbehaving, it is because he has post-traumatic stress disorder. If another kid is misbehaving, it’s because he’s naughty.

My high school years were full of debates  as to whether I was an Australian Jew or a Jewish Australian, assuming one label was more defining of my identity than another. In reality, both labels only tell part of a story of who I am.

Ms. Nyuon described how being labelled created a stagnant identity for her.  She recalled that when she was in high school she wanted to participate in the normal English class, but the principal thought he was doing her a favour by keeping her in English as a second language class, because she was a refugee.  It was hard for her to shake the label that she thought stifled her personal growth.

It also deflated Ms. Nyuon’s self esteem.  When she was accepted into law school in Australia, she assumed it was because they pitied her refugee plight, and not because she has the same intellectual capacity as her Australian peers doing law.

Labels can also prevent integration into the wider community.   Ms. Sejoe spoke of a yearning to belong to a community.  It pains her when someone asks her where she is from, owing to her dark skin colour.  She replies “Carlton”, where she has lived for more than 20 years and feels connected to the community there.  Unable to shake their curiosity, the typical follow up response is where are you really from?  Community is where you are, even if it is a community of parents of school children in year two.

So when does a refugee stop becoming a refugee?  It seems that it depends on to whom you ask the question to.  If you ask a refugee, perhaps being called a refugee is initially useful to help access services in order to familiarize oneself with the community.  However, there appears to be a turning point when it is useful to get rid of labels and stigmas in order to integrate and be accepted in the wiser community.

The Australian Jewish community is made up of a lot of ‘refugees’, and their descendants. It is incumbent upon us to accept the new refugees, acknowledge the positive contribution they make, and help them shed their label.

Keren Tuch is the Education Director of Jewish Aid Australia, which mobilises the Australian Jewish community in the pursuit of humanitarian relief and social justice for disadvantaged people in Australia and overseas, including Sudanese refugees in Melbourne and Sydney.

Karim on a recent trip to Sudan

By Keren Tuch

In a couple of days time we will be reciting the familiar Hebrew song from the Passover Haggadah  “Avadim hayinu ata b’nei chorin – We were once slaves, but now we are free.”  This motif is repetitive throughout the Jewish scripture, especially the Torah.  Whilst I am grateful for this freedom, my mind casts out to those who are still in servitude in Egypt today including the political prisoners who have tried to change a corrupt system, and the myriad of asylum seekers who are seemingly stuck in a country that doesn’t want them.

Karim was one of the ‘fortunate’ asylum seekers who managed to leave Cairo for Melbourne 6 years ago.  My first encounter with Karim was at the Jewish Aid Office in Melbourne in Feb 2011. He was invited to talk to the Year Nine students of Bialik College as part of their social justice curriculum.  He had fled his hometown and family in the Nuba Mountains in Sudan 11 years before arriving in Australia, due to heavy conflict and persecution in his region.   The Nuba Mountain range is in central Sudan and has seen bloodshed since 1987 between the Nuba people and government forces supported by the indigenous Arab Baggara.

As a 16 year old, Karim embarked on a 25 hour journey by stealth to reach Khartoum, the capital of Sudan, to then flee towards the Egyptian border. Upon arrival in Egypt he applied for refugee status, and had to wait 10 years before it was approved, after two rejections and appeals.  For a decade he felt he was stuck in a country that did not want him. He recounts numerous stories of mistreatment and abuse to him and the other estimated 23,000* Sudanese in Egypt.  When Karim would go for a walk on the streets, he would be called ‘black African’.  Police brutality, abuse and discrimination were rampant.

Life was tough for Karim.  He shared a small house with 11 others from his tribe and worked illegally as a cleaner so he could pay the rent and survive.  Other asylum seekers today are not as lucky, unable to find work, and struggling to get by.  An asylum seeker in Egypt is not allowed to work and is not allowed to access government services.  Unemployment is rife for the Egyptian people, even menial manual jobs, let alone foreigners. Asylum seekers live in transit, not really knowing what will become of their future.

Due to the appalling conditions for refugees in Egypt, many try to cross the border into Israel, despite the risk of being shot or captured by the Egyptian border patrols.

Karim was patient and after 11 years of waiting in perilous conditions, he was granted freedom in the form of resettlement in Australia, where he has lived with his wife and daughter for the past 6 years.  In December 2010 he returned to Sudan for the first time in 17 years to visit his parents and vote in the momentous referendum.

Karim’s story is not one of bricks, mortar and traditional slavery.  However asylum seekers and refugees in Egypt are oppressed and abused and their freedom is left in the hands of fate.

Chag sameach, and may all people of the world be freed from oppression and slavery.

* This figure is based on UNHCR Feb 2011 statistics. However, this figure is likely to be much higher as some Sudanese might not register with UNHCR.

Keren Tuch is the Education Director of Jewish Aid Australia (JAA).  JAA mobilises the Australian Jewish community in the pursuit of humanitarian relief and social justice for disadvantaged people in Australia and overseas, including the Nuba Mountains and Darfuri communities in Melbourne and Sydney.

Blintzes...Mmm, geshmuk!

By Keren Tuch

After arriving in Melbourne one month ago, stepping into the Astor Theatre on Chapel Street last Tuesday night, I could have fooled myself that I was in NY.  The theatre was packed full of Jews of all shapes and sizes, and mostly of the Orthodox variety.  They had gathered to watch the screening of an original and professional fundraiser event, the Keren Tov Chef’s Classic.

Many a Jew would watch MasterChef on TV and only dream of entering.  But alas, kashrut, or lack thereof, prevented many from even dreaming of entering.  Keren Tov Chef’s Classic allowed eight lucky Jews to finally test out their talents and to be captured on the screen.  Within the kosher world, there were a range of talents and abilities. There were the balabustes who perfect their cooking skills for the weekly Shabbos table, the foodies and the token male who hasn’t stepped inside a kitchen since before he was married and consequently didn’t realize that when you put a scalding hot frying pan on a plastic chopping board that it melts.

Much like the real MasterChef, there were many rounds including the signature dishes (which surprisingly were mostly desserts), blintzes, cholents, and a salad.    I was certainly impressed with many culinary delights that were produced (well, the vegetarian ones at least) and a little inspired to learn what on earth I can do with figs and how to turn onions into a scrumptious dessert.  The four finalists then proceeded for a final cook off where they had to prepare a three-course meal in 90 minutes using certain assigned ingredients.  Tough at the best of times, let alone when there are cameras in your face, sweat dripping down your back, and $2000 prize money at stake.

The winner Miriam Lange , and the runner-up, Danielle Glick, were both very innovative and creative with their cooking. I’ll have to take the judges word for how amazing all the food tasted.  The Melbourne Jewish Community wouldn’t go astray with an extra Kosher restaurant of this calibre.

The production was extremely professional from the video production to the gastronomical abilities to the event on the night.  It was perhaps a little long for my short attention span, but then again, I don’t have the patience for the regular MasterChef.

The money raised went to Keren Tov, which is a little known charity that does big great things.  They support equipment and therapy for those in the community that are in need.  As a physiotherapist who has worked in the community sector, I can understand only too well the importance of this charity.   Health is one thing that we all have in common, and poor health can afflict everyone at some stage.

Although I won’t be appearing in next year’s contest, I would be more than happy to offer my services as a judge.

The Sydney Jewish community has just farewelled the great Jewish educator, Steve Israel.  Steve, who is well known to any youth movement madrich (leader) who participated on Machon (a 4 month program designed to teach and train future youth movement leaders in Jerusalem), graced us with his presence for the month of November.  He was brought over from Israel by Encounters@Shalom, the education department of The Shalom Institute, to run courses and participate in Limmud-Oz Fest.   A fellow machonik told me that she had an “intellectual crush” on this man for his vast knowledge and soothing story telling voice.

At his last appearance in Sydney, he addressed an audience full of ex-machoniks across the ages.   He talked about why he made aliyah (moved to Israel) 35 years ago (and it was not so his last name would match his country of residence.)  Steve had grown up in the UK, and decided that there was a cultural dearth in the Jewish community.  It was dull, boring and the only way to express one’s Judaism was to attend a shule service.  Steve made aliyah because he believed that Israel was where Jewish history was taking place, and he wanted to be a part of the action.

Although Steve still lives in Israel, he has since retracted the idea that Jewish life can only happen in Israel, and does not believe everyone should pack up and make aliyah.  He sung praises for the Sydney Jewish community and the different avenues for engagement here.

There’s Shir Madness, which premiered in Sydney this year showcasing our great Jewish music talent. There’s Jewish Aid projects, where Jews and Sudanese are forging great relationships.  And then there’s Limmud-Oz and the first ever Limmud-Oz Fest which occurred last weekend.   Limmud-Oz Fest was a weekend retreat in the Central Coast of NSW which attracted 150 people across all ages and offered an array of learning opportunities from ‘Angels in Kabbalah’, to the ‘Ashkenazi/Sephardi divide’ to Israeli dancing.  It is one of the few events that unites the community instead of dividing.  Judging by the euphoric atmosphere when Monsieur Camembert was belting out Klezmer tunes and by the Facebook status updates of attendees, it was a resounding success.  Perhaps I am mincing his words, but if Steve had grown up in Sydney today, I wonder if he would have felt so compelled to leave.

Although the Sydney Jewish community is flourishing (and I imagine he would say the same thing about Melbourne too), there are important questions about other Diaspora communities.  At what stage does one ‘give up’ on a community or decide to strengthen it? For example, the Macedonian community consists of about 100 ageing Jews. Investing time and resources in rejuvenating this community is a lost cause.  But then there’s the Indian community of approximately 5000 Jews?  Do you encourage them to make aliyah to lead a Jewish life, or do you strengthen their community?  And what about the Turkish Community of 17,000?  It’s still quite a sizeable community that has the potential to continue for generations

Though Sydney lacks the vibrancy (and population) of NY, there is little reason to lament a lack of opportunities either.  It is tenable to lead an enriching Jewish life here, and we don’t need to discuss an evacuation procedure to resuscitate our Jewish community.

A scene from the Peyo campsite, as we imagine it

By Keren Tuch

I was telling a friend about a rejuvenating weekend camping I enjoyed in Australia’s beautiful nature. Although he expressed interest in coming on future camping trips, he remained a little surprised because, as he succinctly put it, Jews don’t camp.

Now I find this stereotype a little bemusing as I personally love this pastime and have a circle of (Jewish) friends who join me on these trips.  This statement was all the more ironic as it was said during the festival of succot – a festival that celebrates the vulnerability of life and temporary lodgings. I also think of Israeli culture, where all young Israelis seem to have the necessary equipment at hand to take off within half an hour’s notice to escape into nature.   I understand that there is no electricity for hair dryers in nature, which may potentially turn off stereotypical high maintenance Jews, but surely not all Jews are like that.

I fell into the world of camping through my school’s Duke of Edinburgh program.  My parents never went camping.  My mum would rather eat a ham and cheese sandwich on Yom Kippur before sleeping under canvas.   My father, on the other hand, enjoys the outdoors and enjoyed camping when I introduced him to it two years ago.  He just never learnt the knack of putting up his tent as his parents never took him camping, and then he met my mother.  My hypothesis is that when my grandfather immigrated to Australia from Poland and starting his own business from scratch, camping was not a priority so my father never learnt and perhaps this is true of his generation.  Two generations later, I am not struggling for my survival and have the luxury of escaping to nature and gazing at the stars before I go to bed.

Or perhaps camping is more of a status thing.  When you’re young and poor camping is a good idea as the expense is minimal.  But as one gets older and becomes more affluent,  after working hard for a week, why should one have to set up their tent and cook their own meals when one can pay for it?    Do wealthy Jewish people not camp as it is easier and more convenient to stay in a hotel?

However, I have noticed in more recent times that there are a core group of people in the Jewish community who are festival junkies.  (Con Fest, High and Dry, Peats Ridge etc.)  Peyo is a relatively new festival in Victoria starting on October 29 with the philosophy that everybody should contribute to the festival, whether it be by running a workshop cooking dinner or preparing chai.  I am told that a large proportion of its attendees are Jewish.

Limmud-Oz Fest is  a new retreat for the Jewish community, taking place in the NSW Central Coast from 26- 28 November, which combines Jewish learning with a range of presenters (including international presenter Steve Israel) on assorted topics  with musical entertainment by night (Alana Bruce and Monsieur Camembert).  Limmud-Oz Fest’s philosophy is that anyone can be a teacher and everyone is a student that and no one is more important than anyone else. Tenting is the main option for accommodation, although there are dorms and rooms available for those who need.

I encourage others to join me in proving my friend wrong. Happy camping!

A Maoist demonstration in Nepal

By Keren Tuch

Whilst I detest listening to our leaders belittling one another in an act of political sabotage, the optimist in me is grateful that I live in a democracy with freedom of speech.  Whilst I may not be happy with the choice of leaders I have to choose from to rule our country, the optimist in me is thankful that I know chaos and anarchy will not rule the streets.

After spending time in Nepal volunteering and learning with Tevel B’Tzedek, I began to appreciate what it is like to live in a place of political instability.  Streets and livelihoods are paralysed by unpredictable daily strikes (check this link out to find out how many strikes there were this week http://www.nepalbandh.com/).  Foreign aid is poured into the country yet the citizens don’t appear to see a rupee.  The roads remain harrowing and potholed for those villages lucky enough to use one and maternal health remains imperiously dangerous for rural dwellers.

For hundreds of years, Nepal was governed by a constitutional monarchy until May 2008 when it became a democratic republic with the Maoist party elected as rulers. Nepal’s democracy is in its infancy with an abundance of problems. For example two prime ministers resigning in two years (although one might argue that it’s better than a prime minister being overthrown!).  Nepal’s role of prime minister has been vacant since June 30 2010 and Nepal is currently arguing over a suitable candidate.

With the establishment of the republic, it was agreed that the Nepali congress would rewrite the constitution within two year.  Two years has now passed, and there is no new constitution due to internal squabbling and selfishness of parties. The political situation in Nepal is descending into political absurdness and is crippling its people from moving forward.

After returning from a six month trip in Nepal, I can’t quieten the small internal voice which espouses that our lifestyle is indulgent and materialistic.   No longer do l I look in the pantry and think there is nothing to eat.  No longer will I look in my wardrobe and think I have nothing to wear.

I also try and put politics in perspective. Health and education are very real and important matters.  But I also know that whoever gets into power, all students in Australia will have access to a school which has books and trained teachers which students can attend instead of reaping crops in their family plot.   I also know that an Australian woman will have access to antenatal care and make the appropriate choice to deliver her baby by natural method or caesarean section.  Of course we should always strive to be better and continuously improve the well being of its citizens (and asylum seekers), but sometimes it is refreshing and important to look at a global picture.  Or maybe that’s just the optimist in me.

Jewish Aid and AUJS are now offering an opportunity for people to experience life in Nepal, give of themselves and gain perspective in return.  I was fortunate enough to lead the program last year and will be doing so again this year because I saw the power this program has to strengthen one’s humanistic values and Jewish identity for life. The program is five weeks long and involves living with a Nepalese family in a remote village and helping out in the community.

Volunteer Nepal will run from 20 Dec 2010 – 23 Jan 2011.  Applications close end of August. Please contact Gary (gary AT jewishaid.org.au) or Leora (ip AT aujs.com.au) for more details.

When one thinks of a "flotilla" in Australia, this is more what comes to mind

By Keren Tuch

Oh the irony, that so many Israelis dream of nothing else but to live in utopic Australia, whilst others, myself included, consider living in a war torn country where peace is a seemingly deluded dream.  Australia is a beautiful, peaceful country of which I am certainly privileged to be a citizen and will be proudly supporting the Socceroos in a couple of week’s time.

Yet I find this place so idyllic it can often be…well, boring.  To put it simply, one can live the dream here – beach, education, job, beach, money, security, beach.  But what often prompts me to look abroad is when my mind turns numb from reading front page newspaper articles about the misconduct of football players.  Or when the conversation at the work lunch table turns to discussing an article from a woman’s magazine on 39 ways to lose calories from an Easter egg.  Or when talk show hosts have nothing better to do but lambast the provision of new cycle ways in Sydney. Or when engaging in a discussion on refugees and asylum seekers, everyone has an opinion, yet most educated people have not had any contact with a single person from the “hordes” that are flooding our shores.   Sometimes life seems to be a succession of chai lattes – fun and enjoyable yet devoid of any substance.

But this week it would appear that Australians care about more than just Celine Dion falling pregnant at age 42. It appeared that we do care about the humanitarian plight of individuals in the Middle East.

As the drama of the flotilla unfolded, I was hooked to the cyber world, reading article after article, commentaries, opinion pieces and live video footage until it made me sick.  Sick from the hysteria and the hostile reactions it invoked worldwide.  Sick from the strategic blunder the Israeli military made.  Sick from ignorant citizens unwilling to hear how Israel could possibly have a legitimate excuse to use their firearms in self-defence.  In the cyber world, there was no escaping this mess.

At lunch at my work place, I was expecting a remark of some sort about the flotilla that has dominated the news this week.  Perhaps even a discussion where I was patiently waiting for an opportunity to hear what my colleagues had to say.  I had the link to the video footage on hand ready to disseminate if there was a hint of curiosity.   But that conversation never came to fruition.  Neither did it initiate with my non-Jewish housemate who knows my long-standing connection to Israel.  In fact, when an educated colleague saw me reading an article about the flotilla, I thought it was a good time for an open dialogue.  I received a blank stare followed by a shameful shake of the head when I asked ‘you know about the whole debacle that has erupted in the Middle East….’  Apparently not.  I had made the assumption that because it consumed much of my thoughts, everyone else cared.

It occurred to me that perhaps a lot of people at my work hadn’t heard about it.  It is quite plausible that they react no differently to the flotilla than they do to the weekly deaths of Pakistanis and Iraqis by suicide bombers, or the death of protestors in Thailand.  For every person who vehemently commented online, I wonder how many people just couldn’t give a damn, or don’t even know?

To my astonishment, this sobering thought calmed my fraught nerves from the heavy news of the week.  Although I was prepared to discuss the flotilla at work, it’s times like this that I’m truly appreciative of the light-hearted lunch conversations and the self-indulgent attitude of the average Australian to distract me from the brutal reality that exists beyond our borders.

Amma. Image source: detroitevolution.com

By Keren Tuch

The air was holy.  People walked the aisles as if levitating in a state of awe.  As the holy Amma appeared on stage and performed her ritualistic puja, the audience – a mix of Indians, curious onlookers and dedicated ashram junkies- were mesmerized by her presence.  She offered words of wisdom and compassion, and an opportunity to escape the rat race through meditation.  Yes, Australia was privy to have the auspices of Amma join our shores last week.

Amma is another Jesus of the 21^st Century – a compassionate beacon of hope to those who are looking for a little more meaningful than the Biggest Loser can provide.  Her rotund figure and genuine smile did indeed radiate a sense of calmness and one could see how she has been dubbed the hugging saint.  A booklet handed out at the ceremony stated that “Amma is revered throughout the world as one of the most outstanding humanitarian and spiritual leaders of our time.”  She has established a charity called Embracing the World which has many humanitarian projects in India and around the world from disaster relief to women’s empowerment and slum renovations.  More than her humanitarian work, she also spiritually embraces anyone who comes across her path, and she claims to have hugged more than 30 million people in the past 39 years.

I listened to her sweet utterances, but I did not receive my hug as I made the judgment call that an extra 2 hours sleep would be more nourishing than a hug from Amma.  Her speech was inspiring, but nothing new.  Our bodies are borrowed, and we spend too much time focusing on it.  Meditation is chicken soup for the soul and are the key to achieving a healthy mind, rather than just something for people who have nothing better to do!  We often give more importance to money than to our loved ones.  These wonderful sentiments seemed to be what honey is for Pooh Bear.  The 500+ people in the audience were seeking this reinforcement, which is hard to attain in our daily lives.

And it got me thinking.  As a product of the Jewish School system I can state the five books of the Torah, recite the morning prayers and list the non-kosher animals.  The Judaism I was taught was a very tangible practical Judaism that has a litany of commandments with a whole book of Rabbinic discussions for every one of those commandments.  One of my many teachers once mentioned it is like an instruction manual for living.  A rule book if you like.  For those that need structure in their lives, Judaism has it all.  But where is the wishy washy esoteric babble that addresses the spiritual questions?  Sure, Judaism can claim Kabbalah, but that’s certainly not the Judaism I was taught.  Ethics of the Fathers may have some gold nuggets to dig out, but it is not our primary source of reference and doesn’t quite address questions of the after life or the soul.

I was talking to a group of people about the concept of mindfulness regarding food.  It seems to be a buzz word these days with many dieticians jumping on the bandwagon trying to get people to eat slowly and appreciate the food that they’re eating as a key to not over consuming.  When discussing different ways of being mindful, we acknowledged that the hardest thing to do was the act of remembering.  It was at that moment I understood that the point of all Judaism’s minute laws was to help one to remember the holiness.  The brachot that are said before eating any food requires the individual to be mindful about what they are eating and therefore choose the appropriate blessing.  When it becomes a rule to say a blessing before putting anything in your mouth, in one way it becomes easier to be mindful.  On the other hand, after a while it may soon just become a mere utterance that is recited ritualistically and without any meaning at all.  Whilst prayer should be a time to connect with a higher source; for me, when chanting the prayers repetitively, it has become an action devoid of meaning.

It is human nature to seek meaning in life, and for some it is hard to contemplate that we will return to dust and nothing more.  Whilst Judaism is a religion based on laws and rituals, perhaps we should impress the spirituality within Judaism on those that want to continue their Jewish journey. Why leave spirituality for the new age kabbalists to claim?