I am really enjoying this engaging tale of the House of Love and Prayer, the lives of the Holy Beggars who shared in its creation, and the legacy of Shlomo Carlebach and Zalman Schachter-Shalomi. The book could seriously use a good edit, but then again, it feels home-grown, which is in the spirit of the 60s, and I can be down with that. More than any of those things, I'm finding that the book is a memoir of Aryae Coopersmith's life so far. And a good, rich, complex life it's been. Not always easy and not always pretty, that life, but Aryae's writing shows to good effect the ongoing transformative effect of a true Rebbe. And as I am discovering in my own life, the work of the True Rebbe happens as much in our own hearts as in the consciousness of the external Rebbe. The Rebbe instills a kind of expansive spaciousness and presence. We do the work.
I'm part of the legacy Aryae's work in the world has made possible. I was too young to have met Shlomo, but I am looking forward to meeting Rabbi Zalman Schachter-Shalomi next week (aug 2012). And I will meet him in an auditorium filled with Renewalniks. All of whom owe the existence of a brand of Jewish practice that can coexist with the modern world AND touch the storytelling, musical, Torah-fed spring of classical Hasidism. And their children and their children's children. This branch of Torah is so vibrantly alive.
Shlomo's memory is a blessing. Thank you, Aryae. You live in Berkeley, I guess, as I do. Maybe some day I'll get to shake your hand and thank you in person.