Temple to Church

I was reading my daughter's school online newsletter when the following post caught my attention: the priest at her school was going to give a presentation called "Temple to Church." Father Jason would talk at a Catholic Church about how our modern day church is connected to the one built by the Jews 2,000 years ago.

I made the mistake of leaving the house without a pen. As I've shifted to using a rather tiny purse that necessitates being cleaned out often, I must have purged the pen. I tried listening, but I knew I could not remember everything he was saying. What I do remember is as he talked about the Second Temple in Jerusalem that only a few months ago I was standing there. As he talked about the Temple of the Dome, I stood there. It came to life, even more than possible with the model he brought with him.

I did finally remember my phone comes with a notes feature. As I am a lousy texter, and as the phone tried to translate into what it thinks I was trying to say, I still tried to take notes.

What made me sit up straighter and take notes was when Father Jason talked about Jesus's path to his rabbinical studies. Others knew this, but I didn't. In order for Jesus to best learn, he needed a smicha, or a expert in Judaic law to educate him to the right level.

I also never appreciated that even though Jesus became the ultimate Jewish leader, he was not born into the tribe that would allow him to become a leading Rabbi.

For those of you much more versed in Judaism and early Christianity than I am, what I learned that night would seem very basic, but for me it was eye opening. In order to enter the inner sanctum you had to be of the tribe of Levy. Jesus was from the tribe of Judah. Banned from birth to become a top leader, yet prophesied for generations to become the ultimate leader of Christianity.

Much of what Father Jason talked about was along the same path.

He showed us the above model. There is a gathering space in the front where the women gathered. The sacraments were proclaimed on the steps. Psalms (songs of the church) were sung. There are many psalms, and there is always at least one applicable to the current situation (please don't ask me to cite examples, many are much better versed in psalms than I will ever be). Meanwhile temple readings are read and songs are being sung. The same as Christian worship is today.

The offertory is sacrificed on the steps by the patriarch of the family. The priest receives it and hands it to someone lower. Though the form of the sacrifice has changed, the ritual is the same in the Catholic church. The priest blesses the bread and wine, and passes it to the deacons or those serving communion (this is not how it is done at our small WiNK worship services, but I have seen it done at large Catholic masses). 

Father Jason told a charming story about a young child who told him we are all grapes. Grapes? He asked? The boy explained we are all grapes because in order to become a good wine, we must be a good mix. Wine made from the same type of grape is not nearly as rich and full as wine made from a mixture of types of grapes.

To continue ... on the side are four small tables. Altars of preparation by assistant priest. Up high main altar of sacrifice.

The priest would be covered in animal blood. The book of Leviticus only requires hands to be clean. The rabbi would say a prayer that is still said today. Often silently. References peace of God. If priest not pure, the expectation is God will kill him on sight.

The traditional path to becoming a rabbi is all Jewish boys must take a test at age 6 and pass it. The test is to recite scripture the exact way their father taught them, not necessarily the way written in the Torah. The way Joseph the carpenter taught Jesus, his little boy. 

Jesus passed. 

At age 12 he (and the Jewish boys who reached this stage) had to pass a more rigorous test. 

Jesus passed. 

From age 12 to 30 he followed a rabbi. They Walked in a line attached by a rope. Walked in rank order. First got dust of rabbi and so far. Blessing to give those who reject message and walk away. Hassidic jews follow this tradition still.

Then he followed a leader until he was 30. This explains the gap in Jesus's life that never quite made sense to this Presbyterian. One moment he is in the Temple boldly proclaiming he is the Messiah. Then he disappears until the wedding in Cana where he turns water into wine. He was away from home and learning everything he could about Judaism.

This is why bible studies are a great idea -- it opens you up to learning not just the words, but the historical context.

Back to the temple. The kahuna is second courtyard of temple. 3 entry points. Priest enter in center. All other action takes place inside.

The Temple of the mount (pause to reflect on last summer's trip) is the Holy of Holies. Giant room with a giant seamless curtain that is several stories tall. In front of it the sacrifice of bread and wine —only one. Only those from the tribe of Levy may enter. Jesus from tribe of Judah. He could never enter. 40 years Talmud says the curtain was torn.

To this day older tabernacles has curtain on outside you have to enter.

Father Jason talked about the Yom Kippur parallels between what happened in the inner sanctum in the high temple and Jesus's ministry.

For five days the high priest secures himself in the high temple. The night before Yom Kippur the high priest is not allowed to sleep. There are twelve priests assigned to keep him awake. When Jesus went to the Garden of Gethsemane prior to his arrest, Jesus's 12 disciples fell asleep while he stayed away. As if he was taking on the role of the high priest.

The parallels continue. 

Jesus stays up all night sweating blood looking like short haired red heifer. Grabbed and condemned to death. Taking on role if shirt haired red heifer to be offered on the altar as a sacrifice.

Father Jason explained there is a "hand action" with the red heifer that is still in liturgy today. I've never seen this done in the Presbyterian liturgy. He said the high priest faces west towards Gethsemane when being condemned. Facing where ultimate sacrifice will take place.

The parallels continue.

The normal path for those 12-year olds chosen to become rabbis is for the priest to say "Follow me." This is what Jesus tells the disciples. His disciples are those chosen not to follow the priest, rejects if you will. They each had dreamed of being chosen, and of the proudness they would have brought their families had they been chosen. John was only 14 when Jesus asked him to join his group. He is always depicted in art without a beard because of his youth. John went on to write the Gospel in 95AD. Early popes referenced knowing him, but he was not chosen to become a pope.

The last interesting note is that the Talmud has every detail recorded about how to conduct worship. Red and black ink...one for what to say the other for directions. I didn't realize this. I've heard of the Talmud, but I've never seen one. Catholics have a book that explains details of worship. Presbyterians have the Book of Worship, but it seems looser than both the Jewish and Catholic traditions -- more of a guideline (though some parts are more spelled out than others). 

We ended there. I bumped into Theresa, or she kindly bumped into me moving her chair to sit with me when I arrived late. The room was filled with a lot of Catholics mostly older than me. When I was in my 20s I was used to being the youngest in a room. I just thought by the time I turned 50 people younger than me would be attending these types of cultural events. There are some, but not enough to sustain them. 

Either that or I'll have to develop some new interests.

Time is Flying

Talking to Ashley earlier we both said how is it the end of February already when January seemed to last about 100 days. Ever since Phil the Groundhog didn't see his shadow and Spring was in the air (at least in theory) the days have been flying faster than a speeding rocket. 

How? 

Part of it is I've tried to do some of the things on my to do list. Visit places. Get out of the house.

The college search continues without an answer. After turning down Lehigh University due to finances, we all struggled to start the process again. Fortunately we had an ace in the hand (an acceptance from Rider University with a generous merit based scholarship), but it has still been tough letting go of that dream. The top contenders at the moment are Muhlenberg, Rider, and Montclair State University. Oddly, all have red as one of their school colors. The only one we are waiting to hear from is Muhlenberg.

I finally upgraded technology in the form of a new 14" laptop. The former one was dying a slow death even before going to Israel last summer. The plan is to transfer pictures from an aging desktop computer to an external hard drive before the former completely dies. Wish me luck on that goal!

Meanwhile, I am changing how I organize information, including digital pictures. How do I save pictures taken on my phone and ones taken with my cameras so I can find them and use them in blogs, print them, and have access to them later?

As I ponder changes, The Gala is happening in 24 days. It is only my second gala, but I suspect the stress of organizing such a big event will never go away, instead the bar gets set higher.

Bear with me as I wade through technology and return to writing witty and entertaining blog posts hardly any one reads.

Sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride called our lives.

Col. Hand Marches through Lawrenceville for the 58th Time

On January 2 and 3, 1777 Col. Edward Hand led a skirmish on the future property of The Bridge Academy.

On January 4, 2020, Bill Agress portraying Col. Edward Hand, led us to Route 206 to retrace his steps in reverse.

As Col. Hand died at the age of 58, and this is the 58th annual march, the march has lived longer than the man. Col. Hand was 32 when he led the skirmish. Bill quips he has been Col. Hand longer than Col. Hand  was Col. Hand (he was only a colonel for a year, he became a general). 

Every year Bill and the local historians try to put a fresh spin on the march. This year about 70 people turned out for the pre-march speeches, with about 50 of them doing the two-mile march. Thanks to The Bridge Academy's new plaques, this year the march crossed The King's Highway (Route 206) to study our plaques.

When I heard a stop was being made at school, I decided this was the year I would do the march. That and it wasn't raining or cold.

The march began with speeches by historians and politicians. All five council members attended, as did Fred, a relative of one of the men who served under Col. Hand.


For me the highlight was the stop at The Bridge Academy. The mist gave it a haunting feel.

For others the highlight was probably seeing the cannons fired. I kept thinking if we kept our weapons at that level of destruction mass shootings would likely disappear.

After a snack at the Lawrence Nature Center on Drexel Avenue, a shuttle bus was offered to get us back to the municipal building. I opted to walk the two miles back with Paul, one of the historians from our committee. It was an amiable chat. We made it back before the rain.

New Year's Day 5K Race

There is always something virtuous about starting the New Year with running. In 2016 I ran the Hamilton Hangover, a 5-mile race through Veterans Park in Hamilton, NJ. I remember running that race twice, but I'm only seeing one blogpost. I enjoyed the race, but it was discontinued.

Friends, such as Sandra, have raved about Hillsborough's 5k race, starting at the civilized hour of 11 am. At first I didn't do it because Hamilton's was closer. Then I didn't do it because I forgot about it until I heard the slots filled up.

This year I made a point of doing it. Everyone raved about the race being worth doing for the hoodies alone. This year they switched things up and we were given really nice running zip up sweatshirts instead. Probably something I'll use more often. (Don is wearing his in this picture.)

After all that, I did not bump into Sandra. I later heard running octogenarian Betty was at the race, but did not see her, either. I did bump into Pastor Jeff, who I did not recognize in running gear, and a woman whose daughter was in a play at Somerset Valley Players with Ashley. Don did the race, too, but thought he would walk it since his back was bothering him.

The race itself was a fabulous local race, the kind I wish they did more often in Lawrenceville. The kind where every runner and walker in town bumps into a bunch of friends. We started at the municipal building and did a loop around the building before crossing the finish line and doing a larger loop through the neighborhood. The course was flat. People came out of their homes to cheer on their friends and families. 

I can't complain about the race, I only wish it was in Lawrenceville and I bumped into more people I know. It was very well organized with lots of volunteers and an indoor space to hang in, and with indoor plumbing. The swag is nice -- even included a $20 off coupon to Princeton Running Company. People were very friendly. Don left saying he wanted to do it again next year. We'll see.

2020 Resolutions/Goals

Nearly a week into the New Year and I'm still struggling with good resolutions/goals. I looked at last year's list, the one that stands out is my second goal: 

Visit a new (to me) city. Other years I've said I wanted to go to a new (to me) country, but international travel is far from glamorous these days, so I'll amend that to any new city,with Charleston and New Orleans currently in the lead.

Wow! A year ago I had no idea life would take me to Israel to live on a kibbutz and participate in an archaeological dig. Going on a dig has been a goal since I was in my 20s, but never a realistic enough one I thought would really happen.

Most of my other goals did not happen. I still have not explored low-carb recipes, or make a friendship as solid as the one I had with Carin (though I have strengthened friendships and reconnected with people, none are at that daily, confident stage). Instead of having races in the 4-10 mile range, I've cut back down to 3.1 miles. A series of scraped knees had me fall out of the habit.

I would like to kick diabetes in the ass and be able to eat whatever I want, whenever I want, without guilt (which might lead to having to lose weight after I pack on some pounds from carefree eating). Last week I had a setback with that goal when a blood test revealed I have a gluten intolerance (which I don't feel) and must avoid gluten at all costs, especially cross-contamination and possibly lotions. This means my dreams of international travel without having to worry about what I am eating have vanished. It stinks when dreams die.

Mind you, I have been controlling diabetes with diet and exercise (and no medicine) for nearly five years, I just want to be able to eat carbohydrates again and stop feeling like I am depriving myself.

Meanwhile struggling with where Ashley will go to college next year. Her top choice is too expensive (very little aid offered) and the other school she applied to has since been deemed too close to home (even though they offered a generous merit-based scholarship). A goal is to find her a new dream school. But I can't do it without her.

A work goal would be to raise $1.2 million to renovate the house on the property and use it for classrooms. Anyone reading this who wants to donate, reach out. Naming opportunities are available. Another work goal is learning Publisher.

Probably a realistic goal is to become a notary. I am fortunate there is a notary at the school, but what if she is out? It would be helpful to have a back up notary. The county has monthly swearing ins for only $15. Like I said, realistic as well as quantifiable.

So, now what? Continue floating through life in a low-carb haze? Just see where life takes me?

What are your goals/resolutions?

PS: I really thought I set the goal of running ten 5ks a month. Does it count if I add it in December?

Still Struggling with Finding a Bestie

With the passing of Charlie Cat, I'm once again thinking about how much I miss Carin, and how hard it is to make friends. I don't know if the challenge is my age, my stage, or life in general.

When Ariel Cat and Sandy Dragon died, I reached out to Carin, who expressed just the right amount of sympathy and compassion. With her death over a year ago, there is still that hole.

A couple of days later I told our cat sitter, who was sympathetic. I told a couple of other people (one who still has not gotten back to me), but there is no ONE person I wanted to reach out to talk about my feelings. Don and Ashley were also mourning, and we talked about Charlie. I long for someone fresh to talk to.

As we go through the struggles of the college search, I keep thinking about how Carin and I should be going through this together. Reminding each other about deadlines. Encouraging each other to look in new directions or at different schools. I don't necessarily need a friend whose child is at the same stage (though that would be nice), I'm really looking for a friend who always replies to my messages and who opens herself up to share bits and pieces of her life with me. Husbands, daughters, and parents can't always be my emotional support. There is nothing like having a best friend.

Writing this helps. I've been bottling up my feelings for too long. I continue to pray for a new best friend. 

Reach out if you are seeking one, too.

RIP Charlie Cat

This summer

A week ago Charlie Cat passed away. It still seems a bit unbelievable. As much as I enjoy writing, I've been struggling with what to say. 

About 13 years ago we adopted Charles II (Charles I had a bad habit of sleeping in the street and did not last a year). We guess he was about a year old at the time. 

2015

From the start, he was Don's cat. He had no interest in me, except towards the end of his life when he was always hungry and begging me for lunchtime food. Not long before he died he snuggled. It is a trait I notice our pets do not long before they die -- they suddenly become my best friend and my heart melts.

The night before he died he was on the step where we found Ariel Cat a few years ago. His claw was stuck in the carpet and he couldn't free himself. Don untangled him and put him on the carpet in the bathroom under the heating vent with some food. Poor dude could not even support his back legs and ate the tiniest amount of food. Before going to bed I petted him and told him he was a good cat. I didn't think he would make it to the morning. 

By 2 AM he was dead.

The "Mighty, Mighty Moosa" had faded into skin and bones. It was a conscious decision to not take him to the vet and let him die gracefully. He hung in longer than I thought he would. When I left for Israel in June, I thought he would be gone before I came home. Thankfully I was wrong.

He was doing great until last winter when the neighbor insisted he stay inside because he was always in her yard and always pooping in her garden. While I sympathize with her, she first said the black and white cat was the one causing trouble (so we kept her in the house), then a few months later called animal control saying it was the orange cat. Nice neighbor. Ugh. Charlie enjoyed roaming our yard. We never once saw him come from her direction, let alone sit on her front porch. I suspect there was a different orange cat, but to keep the peace we kept him inside and put up with his complaints. The neighbor "thanked" us by ignoring us anytime we waved hello. 

This is the first time I'm publicly expressing my annoyance, which brings me to the deeper part of this post: I miss having a close friend. The friend you can always kvetch to without fear of it turning into gossip, or having your feelings belittled. More importantly, being that friend who always listens and supports (at least I hope I was that friend).

Meanwhile, Lucy, our 7-year old kitty, has become affectionate, spends more time with us as a family, snuggles, and eats more. So I guess one good thing has come out of Charlie's passing.