Miranda's Search for Spirituality

... or the time I got swindled by a Hasidic rabbi.

But first… a question

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Spirituality has been coming up a lot for me in conversation lately. When I chose the “woo-ey” option for Shabbat at a retreat for Jewish professionals. When I was at a recent barbecue talking about belief in G-d. When I heard from a rabbi chaplain, or as I like to call it, a rabblain, talk about how he works with patients, especially non-Jews, to tap into what spirituality means to them.

This Great Jewish Journey of mine has helped me sculpt my sense of spirituality. I’ve also explored non-Jewish concepts, like having my fortune read and Tarot cards pulled.

So, when my friend recommended that I get a blessing from a famous Kabbalah Rebbe visiting from Israel this week, of course I said yes.

Side note: I always thought a rabbi and a Rebbe were interchangeable (Rebbe is the Yiddish pronunciation of rabbi), but I learned in my research of this guy that a rabbi is more like a teacher, whereas a Rebbe is more like a spiritual guide, and mainly from the Hasidic movement.

Actually, the way my friend phrased it was that the Rebbe can read minds and tell you what your soul needs. Plus, he will make you smile. Since it’s very rare that a man can make me smile, I said game on — how do I meet the Reb?

Silence your beepers and buckle up! It’s story time.

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It was a warm, quiet Wednesday evening on the Upper Ease Side. My appointment was in a small synagogue I had never heard of before. Eager and a tad nervous in my long skirt and long-sleeved shirt to cover up my temporary Outlander tattoos, I rang the buzzer, ready for big realizations and hard-hitting truths. Lesson one: never have expectations.

Waiting for the rabbi felt like sitting in a holy DMV: the rows of chairs, the stale smell of food that’s been sitting around, and unhappy-looking people. But I mingled with a nice, secular Israeli man who was also waiting his turn and, as I learned, had been recommended to come here by the same friend.

Then they called my name, and l walked over to the far side of the room, where the Rebbe was seated behind a partition. I approached the Hasidic leader, who was dressed in a fine black robe imprinted gold roses, with a mix of awe and curiosity that could only be described as how Moses must have felt at the sight of the burning bush.

The Rebbe only spoke Yiddish, so his translator sat beside him and asked me questions, mainly about my nine-month-old relationship.

“You are a perfect match!” the translator exclaimed of my partner and me. “But if the two of you don’t get engaged by Hanukkah, he will leave you for another woman.”

Not surprised by this push to get engaged so soon, I laughed and said, “No he won’t.”

Was I allowed to contradict this spiritual leader, a disciple in a long lineage of a holy dynasty? I decided I could once he took out a vape pen and started vaping in front of me.

The translator then asked if I needed help with anything else, not that I ever said I needed help with my relationship. I said I’d like to find myself spiritually. What can I do?

Then the Rebbe, in Yiddish, gave me a laundry list of tasks. Here is what he advised.

1. Watch videos of Gedale Fenster on YouTube, for they will change my life. I looked him up and he’s a motivational speaker, entrepreneur, author, life coach, and five other titles. I think this video, “Trophy wife or a wife that will help you get the trophy?” will definitely change my life.

2. Read the books of Rabbi Nachman of Breslov. This famous rabbi combined kabbalistic thought with Torah scholarship, and may have influenced Franz Kafka. I’ve never read his works, but his religious philosophy revolved around closeness to G-d and speaking to G-d in normal conversation "as you would with a best friend,” which is something I can get down with.

3. Feed the birds. This was when the Rebbe closed his eyes, furrowed his brows, and focused really hard on receiving an answer to what would help me grow spiritually. And that’s what he came up with. Dumbfounded, I looked at his translator and asked, “Like… literal birds?” He said yes. And I say hell no! As someone who recently accidentally kicked a pigeon because it grazed my ankle while feasting near me, I refuse to become a pigeon lady, no matter how spiritually it might elevate me.

4. Light a candle for the soul of Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai. I’ve heard of him — he’s a disciple of Rabbi Akiva and was the one who emerged from the cave all spiritual. Lag B’Omer is the anniversary of his death, which I admittedly don’t celebrate. Maybe I’ll try next year; I love a good bonfire!

5. Eat hot kugel for Shabbat. What a spiritual roller coaster we’re on here. I understand the mitzvah of eating a hot meal on Shabbos, and I like a hot, fluffy potato kugel, don’t get me wrong. But kugel… every Shabbat? Or can I switch it up and have those yummy chicken fingers with the mustard dipping sauce from kiddush? I like those.

6. Look up at the sky and say “Ein od milvado” (There is none other than G-d) three times. This guy enjoys nature, huh? He had me at “look up at the sky,” but I don’t feel the need to recite this line because I prefer the Shema, which has the same message that I’ve been reciting since Hebrew school and is more positive in language. Also… why say it when I can SING it?! Hit it, Mordechai Shapiro!

7. Listen to happy Jewish Hasidic music. Clearly, I already have that covered. I find great meaning and peace in this beautiful song. But it’s not my genre, so if you have any recs, send them my way!

8. Wash your hands before you go to bed and when you rise in the morning. I love the tradition of washing my hands as a way of purifying myself and separating the mundane from the holy, but I’m often in a rush and I lost my beautiful copper hand washing cup! I also haven’t heard of washing your hands before bed. Must be a Kabbalah ritual.

After he went through this list of instructions, his translator handed me a little sticky jar of honey for Rosh Hashanah, and asked to donate $200 a month to the Rebbe’s work with orphans. I said I would give a one-time donation and then they took a picture of my credit card. So besides lighting candles and feeding the birds, I now have to add “keep tabs on my credit card bill” daily.

And that was… it. No mind reading, no real advice given. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for, but this wasn’t it.

I left feeling slimy. Angry, even. More so with myself than with these rabbis, feeling foolish for believing my life could be changed by simple words from a stranger, like those people who are susceptible to joining a cult. (Too late, I’m already in one, it’s called Judaism!)

As soon as I left, I called my friend to share my experience and feelings, and he said something that calmed me down:

“If you’re willing to try something like this, I have no doubt you will find yourself spiritually.”

It’s true. You don’t know what you like until you try what you don’t like.

Shabbat Shalom. May you find inner peace,