OY VEY!

I'm in a Facebook group called "Hanukkah" with over twenty thousand members. I was innocently scrolling along, and commenting here and there on a post about holiday trees and menorahs. My comment was that people should put up whatever type of decorations that give them joy, and I got more positive reactions than negative ones. There was a lively discussion on whether Jews should or should not decorate their homes this time of year, especially with what looks for all intents and purposes like a Christmas tree. Are Hanukkah bushes appropriate or are we just co-opting someone else's religious tradition? Does it make a difference if the decorations are in blue and white, not red and green? What if you live in a mixed-religion household? Do you need special dispensation from your rabbi? 

The discussion was getting a little heated, so I jumped from Facebook to Blogger to continue the debate -- with myself -- in a more reasoned and civil manner:

Q: You practice Judaism, right? 

A: Well, not exactly.

Q: Huh? Then why are you in this Facebook group?

A: I'm Jewish, but it's not my religion.

Q: Wait, you're Jewish, but it's not your religion?

A: It depends on how you define "religion."

Q: Religion is what you believe in about God and the supernatural. 

A: That's not how I define "religion."

Q: Oh, so now we're arguing semantics?

A: Seems like it.

Q: But you believe in God, right?

A: A deity is not a meaningful concept regarding how I live my life. I consider myself agnostic, but I lean more towards atheism, or at least non-theism.

Q: Oy vey! So what is your "religion" then? 

A: I have two: Ethical Culture and Unitarian Universalism. Neither of them requires belief in a god or gods and they don't contradict each other in any meaningful way. They really only differ in style and lexicon. In fact clergy members can be both UU ministers and Ethical Culture Leaders simultaneously.

Q: That's weird. So what do you believe in?

A: I believe in lots of things. I have principals that I live by and I know that there is something greater than myself.

Q: Greater than yourself? Sounds like you believe in God.

A: Not exactly. The jury is still out on that one. And what exactly do you mean by "God" anyway?

Q: Oy vey! 

A: What if we call it a "spiritual community" instead of a "religion"? Would that make you happy?

Q: Spiritual? So you do believe in something supernatural!

A: Spirituality does not have to refer to things outside of nature. Spirit is what motivates us, what lifts us out of ourselves to think and act in ways that help others and our planet. Spirituality is what lies deep within, but feels bigger than ourselves. Frankly I don't care what anyone believes in. You can worship the Flying Spaghetti Monster for all I care. What I care about is what you do, not what you believe, and whether you treat others with respect, empathy and kindness.

Q: Okay, that sounds reasonable. You can call it what you want -- spirituality, religion. And it doesn't sound so bad after all.

A: Thank you. 

Q: Go in peace!

A: You as well!

Of volleyballs, cats and humans

Do movies ever make you cry? I have to admit that some have that effect on me, though at least nowadays, I'm generally at home on my sofa with no one but my cat to witness it. I can't remember the last time I was in a movie theater, so this display of emotion usually takes place in private.

I recently happened upon Cast Away, the 2000 film starring Tom Hanks, as I was flipping through the channels. I probably hadn't seen it in over 20 years so I decided to watch. I was in the midst of working on holiday cards, to be signed and addressed by hand. I don't use printed labels, nor do I send them en masse as e-cards. I was looking for something to watch that didn't require my full concentration, but was more like background music while I tried to complete the tedious task. Usually, when I want to watch a movie, I go to a streaming platform because I hate commercial interruptions. But since I had seen this film before, and it was really only on as background noise, I started to watch. I had liked it very much when I first saw it over 20 years ago, so I could sort of pay attention to it and get the cards done at the same time. If I missed a little of the action, at least I already knew the gist of the plot.

As it turned out, I became totally engrossed in the film, and the commercial interruptions were actually useful, both as breaks during which to address a couple of cards, and as emotional speed bumps as well. Why the need for emotional speeds bumps? Because the film was so much more riveting, thought-provoking and poignant than I had remembered, and the commercial breaks gave me a chance to recover between scenes.

Tom Hanks is amazing, and if you've never seen this movie (or haven't seen it in 20 years) I strongly recommend it. But aside from the compelling plot and extraordinary special effects, the film tugged at my heart, and ultimately, real tears began to flow. During those commercial respites, I also had the chance to reflect on some of the underlining themes and deeper messages, and even began to compose this blogpost in my head. I didn't get up from the sofa to type or take any notes. My blogposts are usually not written in one sitting; they require a lot of mulling, musing and amending over several days.

For me, the emotional impact of the film was at least as important as the thrilling plot. Hank's character has to learn how to make fire, hunt and somehow survive for four years on a desolate island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean. But even more meaningful to me were his struggles with the crushing loneliness and isolation. Ultimately, he finds a friend in an anthropomorphized object, which serves as his close companion and confidant until he is finally rescued and returns to civilization.

I became choked up during the scene when Tom is drifting on his raft, desperately crying, "Wilson, Wilson!" (If you've seen the movie you'll likely remember this.) But my tears began to flow in earnest later on, when Tom is reunited with his girlfriend, who had presumed him dead for the past four years and gotten on with her life.

Tom's relationship with Wilson the volleyball is deeply moving, and as a lover of anthropomorphized objects myself -- my collection of stuffed animals to be precise -- I could definitely relate. Wilson becomes a character in his own right and it is clear that if not for the companionship of the volleyball, Tom would likely not have been able to survive.

As I watched the film, my cat Dexter was curled up on a chair nearby. Dexter is much more than a Wilson to me, since he's a sentient creature, which (unlike a volleyball) lives, breathes, purrs and displays real affection. I believe pets are capable of love, even if they don't possess the vocabulary to understand it the way humans do. 

Which brings me to another tear-jerker movie, Breakfast at Tiffany's, with Audrey Hepburn and George Peppard, one of my all-time favorites. The final scene in which Hepburn's character, Holly Golightly, desperately cries, "Cat, Cat!" (much like Tom Hanks's "Wilson, Wilson!") always brings me to tears, no matter how many times I've watched this movie. The protagonists of both Cast Away and Breakfast at Tiffany's evince that humans crave connections with other humans. Lacking that, they develop loving relationships with pets -- or even volleyballs -- if that's all they have available to them.