You Don't Need Postage for That

By Susan Esther Barnes

I’ve been told, by a very reliable source, that when my husband came to bed on Monday night and started to undress, I woke up (or not) and informed him, “You don’t need postage for that.”

My excessively brilliant husband took this in, then replied, “Thank you,” upon which I said, “You’re welcome,” and promptly fell back asleep, while he valiantly stifled his laughter.

I began having nocturnal conversations when my sister and I shared a room as kids. She would come back late from a party with her high school friends, we’d have a brief exchange about who was at the party and what happened, and in the morning I’d have no recollection of our little chat.

I know these conversations happen, however, because sometimes I’ll remember something about them once the incredulous other party reminds me about it. Sometimes I don’t remember the conversation at all, no matter how much detail the other person uses in describing it to me.

Every once in a while, I’ll remember a tidbit on my own the next day, and I’ll ask my husband, “Did this conversation actually happen last night, or did I dream it?”

When I stop to think about it, it amazes me the level of trust we display when we’re willing to fall asleep with other people in the room. We voluntarily lose consciousness, leaving ourselves utterly vulnerable to anything the other person may choose to do to us or our belongings while we sleep.

This vulnerability rises to a new level for me, since I know anything could come out of my mouth in the middle of the night, completely unfiltered by any mechanisms I may employ while I’m awake to protect myself or others from harmful disclosures. And the next day I may not remember it at all.

What a rare and special thing it is to find someone with whom we feel comfortable enough to rise to this level of vulnerability, on a regular basis, and usually without even giving it a second thought. It’s a thing almost all of us share with another, at least at some point in our lives. I don’t think we appreciate it nearly as much as it deserves.

And you don’t need postage for that.

Sh’ma Discussion on Pluralism

By Susan Esther Barnes

Last week I attended an event at the San Francisco Contemporary Jewish Museum celebrating the move of “Sh’ma, A Journal of Jewish Responsibility” to California. The event was billed as “A conversation on the boundaries of pluralistic dialogue and engagement.”

The evening started a little late with a somewhat lengthy introduction, so the actual conversation didn’t start until about a half an hour after the advertised start time, but at least that gave the numerous latecomers a chance to settle in before the juicy bits of the evening occurred.

The format consisted of Susan Berrin, the editor of Sh’ma, reading a list of questions to the panelists, then asking them to begin a conversation about one or more of those questions. The conversation was followed by an audience question and answer session, then a reception.

The panelists were Rabbi Levey Derby of Congregation Kol Shofar in Tiburon, Karen Kushner of the Jewish Welcome Network, Peter Stein of the San Francisco Jewish Film Festival, and Carole Zawatsky of the Jewish Community Center of San Francisco.

The conversation covered a fascinating range of topics, including who is or isn’t Jewish (for instance, are “Jews for Jesus” really Jews?), excommunication, the definition of pluralism, and the right (and even the responsibility) of individual organizations to set their own boundaries regarding permissible behavior and who is or isn’t allowed in.

The discussion touched on the tension created when the San Francisco Jewish Film Festival showed a controversial film with a controversial speaker, and the San Francisco Jewish Federation recently adopted guidelines to withhold funding from organizations which host events or speakers which advocate for the destruction of Israel or divestment from, or boycotts of it.

A poignant moment occurred when one woman in the audience who is a member of an organization which clearly would be excluded from funding under the restrictions of the Federation’s new guidelines said that by denying her a seat at the table, the Federation is saying she is not a Jew. Rabbi Derby answered her by asserting there is a distinction between the rejection of a person’s political view and the rejection of a person as a whole. He said he doesn’t think anyone that evening had said she isn’t a Jew; just that some organizations, in setting their own boundaries, have chosen not to support her organization’s views.

Another audience member pointed out that the panelists seemed to agree with each other on most points, and suggested the conversation might have benefitted from the inclusion of at least one panelist who would have argued against the desire for pluralism.

Overall, I was pleased with the tenor of the discussion, and I was glad the audience members were willing to ask pointed questions without being rude and the panelists were willing to address those questions. In the end, I found myself wishing the conversation had gone on longer, and I hope Sh’ma and/or the museum will host more, similar conversations in the near future.

The Things You Would Have Said

By Susan Esther Barnes

Jon Carroll has been my favorite San Francisco Chronicle columnist since the death of Herb Caen. (Yes I know I'm dating myself here). Last week he wrote a column about a website called "The Things You Would Have Said." On its home page, this website says it is here for the following purpose: "Whether the person has passed away, contact was lost, or the strength needed at the time was lacking, this is a chance to say what you have always wanted them to know." People send in their letters to the website via email, and they are posted with the author's name and age, or anonymously, as requested.

The posts on this site provide a fascinating read. Some are heartwarming; others are heart wrenching. For those who have the time, I recommend reading them all, except I would suggest that animal lovers skip "Black Cat." (Trust me on this one.)

When I first learned about this site, I wasn't sure it was such a good idea. I believe if one person has something to say to another, they ought to do so directly, even if it feels overdue or awkward. Every time I have forced myself to have an uncomfortable conversation with someone, afterward I have been glad I did it.

Also, throughout my life I have told myself I won't second guess my decisions. I decided that as long as I sincerely try to make the best decisions I can with the information I have at the time, I won't berate myself later on if additional information I receive after the fact proves the decision to be less than optimal.

Still, with this reminder that there are many people who have been left feeling there is something they wish they would have said, I decided to take an inventory of the people in my life.

I thought about each person who is especially close to me, and wondered, "If I wanted to write a letter for the "Would Have Said" website, could I write a letter to this person? Is there anything I haven't said to him or her that needs to be said?" If the answer for any person were yes, then I would know that was a person I would have to contact soon so I could have a conversation with them.

Next, I took an inventory of people I used to be close to, but with whom I have lost touch. Was there anything there I needed to say? The most obvious person in this category is my ex-husband, but I really have closed that chapter in my life. If there were any outstanding items in this category, then it seems to me it would be my obligation to at least make an honest effort to find the person and talk to them before I sent something in to be posted on the website.

Finally, I thought about the people I knew who have died. In a case like this, I could definitely see sending a letter to the website. After all, there is no way to go back to have a conversation with someone who has died. Which, of course, is why I think it's so important to have these conversations with the living before it's too late.

However, it does occur to me that saying people should only send in letters to people they can't find or who have died is too simplistic an answer. In some cases, the writers may need to vent their anger, which most likely would not be well-received by the other person. In this case, writing a letter to the website would probably be more healing than an in-person conversation. For example, I don't imagine the person who wrote to her rapist would have been better off tracking down her attacker after all those years.

So, although I have some concern people may use this website as an excuse not to have the conversations they ought to have with the people around them, I also recognize it can provide a powerful outlet for those who feel they need a venue in which to express themselves. And perhaps reading the posts of others may prompt some people to have the conversations they need to have before it's too late.