Shalom,

     Now that the High Holy Days are over, and in between my rabbinic work, teaching and parenting, one of the joys of my life is reading. It is no coincidence that I am a Jew — we are indeed the people of the Book - not just the Torah, but of many books. Traditionally, when we Jews read, converse, debate or teach, we are always referencing other books we have read. We mention "proof texts" — examples upon examples of teachings from other books that prove our points in a debate, quotations from Torah, Talmud, Mishna and the great rabbis, to illustrate an idea, teach a child or an adult. We tell stories we have heard or read in books OR we make up stories and then write them down. We Jews thrive on books - perhaps someday we will thrive on Kindle, or some other computer-driven reading device (though I pray that good old paper books will never cease to be part of the human landscape!). We are not unique. Other cultures and peoples, too, read books, cherish books and share their stories — but I am a Jew, so I talk about us.    

I want to enthusiastically recommend two books for your reading pleasure, learning — and the deepening of your hearts. Both are in the genre of 'memoirs' of a sort. I love reading memoirs because, if well-written and substantive,  they give me a chance to peek into the window of the life, mind, heart and soul of another human being.

The first  book is: Rage Against the Meshugenah: A Memoir by Danny Evans.  The subtitle of the book is: WHY IT TAKES BALLS TO GO NUTS. This is a tough book to read - and a pleasure. I laughed, I was put off by some it pages, I cried at parts, I became thoughtful at others. Danny Evans writes a moving account of his own prolonged and deep depression and he emerged from it.

Sounds like a downer, right? Why spend time on such a book?

First this is a very Jewish book. As someone like myself who loves Judaism with all my heart, sometimes Evans' words hurt - he is a man who both is engaged with his Judaism, displays signs of Jewish self-hatred and anger toward the way he was educated as a Jew and bitterness towards religious Judaism. AND some of what he has to say is deeply thought-provoking and challenging to me - as a rabbi and as a Jew. A favorite part of the book is, ironically, when Evans suggests that the same rules that apply to baseball should apply to services in synagogues. An example: 

     1. Heckling should be permitted at services... After the rabbi fumbles over a difficult to pronounce Hebrew word, I would stand up in my pew and shout "Hey rabbi! Pull your head out! It's "ah-doe-nye" not "ah-do-nay-nee-hoo!"

     2. Concession stands would do wonders for the enjoyment of temple congregants... Jews love to eat. . . The concession stand would need to sell $8 cups of watered-down Manischewitz wine instead of watered-down beer, but just like at the ballgame, people will probably sneak their own brew into services by hiding it in their purses...

     I laughed heartily and I sighed deeply when I read these words - but they made me think!

Second, this is a serious, honest book about mental illness,  a topic we ignore all-too-often in the Jewish community. The author is an average, middle-class professional, married with kids - like many of us, Mental illness happens. It doesn't reserve itself to any class, race or religion. It's stigma spreads far and wide. Those who suffer with mental illness often don't receive the assistance, compassion and welcome of community that they so dearly need. We need to look at mental illness in the face — and understand that Jews afflicted with it are our parents, our sons, our daughters and our spouses, and that we must accept the sacred obligation  (the mitzvah) of offering help, compassion and kindness to them.

Third, this is a very funny book  - I think you will enjoy it just for that alone!

The second book I heartily commend to you is Have a Little Faith by Mitch Albom. Here, the author chronicles two very special people, Albert Lewis, Albom's  childhood rabbi, now quite elderly, who asks the author to deliver his eulogy when he dies, and Reverend Henry Covington, a former street punk, convicted criminal, drug addict, who turned his life around and became a dedicated, almost selfless minister to the poor and homeless in Detroit's poorest neighborhood. In order to get to know his rabbi better, Albom spends hundreds of hours with the "Reb" over what turns out to be eight years before Rabbi Lewis dies and he spends many, many hours observing and talking with  Rev. Henry (who amazingly, is called "Rebbey Reb" by some of the people he has helped!). The account of Albom's experiences is deeply moving. Once again, I cried, I laughed, I was inspired, I was surprised, I learned new things about faith (my own and the rabbi's and the minister's), about forgiveness, gratitude, redemption, teshuvah (turning one's life around), community and much more. This is a very Jewish book. This is a very Christian book. This is, in its simplicity, a very deep book.  This is a book about hope and faith and a lot in between. The "Reb" (Rabbi Lewis) even gives us the secret of happiness -- read it and find out!

So, if you have the time and the inclination, make a trip to your local bookstore (if it's a small, independent one, even better) or visit your local library, and check out these two gems. Happy reading!

B'shalom,

Rabbi Leila