Posted in Uncategorized | Leave a Comment »
The confluence of Chanukah and Thanksgiving brings a flood of wonderful memories. A lot of my favorite childhood memories come from different Chanukah experiences. This year as we think about the things for which we are thankful, I realize how rich my childhood was and how important these memories are for my sense of self as an adult. These are Chanukah lights that flicker in my soul, my inner being.
Although we lived in West Virginia from the time I was 1 until I was 9, we often spent Chanukah in the Bronx with my Oma and Opa – my grandparents. Each year the German Jewish community put on a Chanukah party for us kids and that party was highlighted by he appearance of the Chanukah man. You have not heard of the Chanukah man? Well he was a kind of pseudo Santa Clause, but dressed up in Tevya style clothes complete with peasant cap, carried a staff with a Jewish star on top and had a long white beard. When I was 4 I attended one of the parties and was told the Chanukah man would be coming to speak with each of us. Sure enough, he appeared after we had eaten out latkes to put each of us on his lap and ask if we had been good. What I did not know was that the Chanukah man was my dad in disguise. When it was my turn to sit on his lap, I glanced down at his shoes. Now my dad had to wear special orthopedic shoes, so after looking at the Chanukah mensch’s shoes I said, “Gee Chanukah man, my dad has shoes just like those.” To which the Chanukah man replied without missing a beat, “Well, we use the same shoemaker. I see him there all of the time.”
Perhaps you think the whole idea of a Chanukah man is just silly – and in truth it is. Yes it is a kind of cheesy rip off of Santa, but that never mattered to me. I was 7 when I finally figured out that the Chanukah man did not really exist
So it might be odd that my favorite Chanukah man story comes from when I was 11 and my mom was pregnant with my youngest brother. That year my middle brother and I received a letter from the Chanukah man. We were living in Allentown, PA by then, where my great Uncle Richard lived. Uncle Richard was the man who raised my father, and was truly like my grandfather. In Allentown, it was Uncle Richard who took on the role of the Chanukah man. Here is the letter we received, complete with spelling and grammar mistakes:
“Dear Romberg brothers,
Your Uncle Richard, may God bless him a other 25 years wrote a letter several weeks ago to me and was telling me about you two boys. You both was during the last year fairly good, and I should make it my business this year and come to visit Allentown. Sorry I can’t make it because this year I have to go to Russia and Siberia to bring the poor Yewish children some goodies. Enclosed I send you some money and your Mami can buy something at Hesses Bargain Basement. Also I heard the good news that your Daddy and Mamy ordered a custom built brand ne Baby girl, but your Daddy put in the order too late, and the delivery cannot be before the end of January, 1966. Let’s be with Massel Tow, and we will later celebrate what ever comes out. With best wishes to all of you and a good Chanukah yours,
Eliezer ben Morechai, Chief Chanukah man”
I still have that letter. Other than the framed picture and Silver Star that hangs in my study, it is the only physical reminder I have left of Uncle Richard, German Jewish immigrant and one of the few true heroes I have known. But he lies rich in my memory and whenever I read that letter, I am comforted by the memories of the light that was his life.
Chanukah also causes me to remember one of my dad’s closest friends while we were living in West Virginia, a Baptist minister – Dr. Edward Dreisinger. Dad met Dr. Dreisinger when we first moved to West Virginia. They became fast friends. He was a liberal Baptist who had even studied Hebrew in seminary. His experiences as a chaplain in World War II led him to feel that Jews needed to be affirmed, not evangelized. Dad invited him to be a guest speaker at our small synagogue and Dr. Dreisinger had dad speak to his congregation about his experiences as a Jew growing up in Nazi Germany. Dr. Dreisinger’s family would join us for certain Jewish holidays, Rosh Hashanah, Pesach, or Chanukah. We would go over to their house each year to watch them light their Christmas tree. Mrs. Dreisinger played piano and dad would sing the Christmas carols in German. The Dreisingers really liked that. He always shared some Chanukah songs as well. Mrs. Dreisinger never touched alcohol except some wine when celebrating a holiday at our house as she felt it honored our holiday. Dad had an honest, easy relationship with Dr. Dreisinger, because Dr. Dreisinger accepted dad on my dad’s terms. Their model of an interfaith friendship has been my lifelong model. They were close and could joke with each other.
For example, when I was in kindergarten I was cast as Joseph in the Christmas play. I was cast because I knew how to sing a song in Hebrew and the teacher thought it would be more “authentic” if I sang the song to Mary on the way to Bethlehem. I felt like a star, even if they gave top billing to a baby Jesus who was played by a plastic baby doll. My dad felt like I was a star too and invited Dr. Dreisinger to watch me in the play. When it was over Dr. Dreisinger told dad, “Jackie was so cute I could just adopt him.” To which my dad replied, “and make a Baptist out of him, over my dead body!”
I love these memories. They remind me how lucky I was to have parents, grandparents, family and friends who provided me with a beautiful, secure childhood. As I light my Chanukiah Wednesday and Thursday nights, these are the memories that will be kindled in my soul. It is my hope and prayer that everyone lighting their Chanukiah this Thanksgivingkah can have the same experience.
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged Chanukah memories, Thanksgiving and Chanukah, Thanksgivingkah | Leave a Comment »
The journey that makes Jacob into Jacob comes to a full circle in this week’s parashah. It starts at the beginning of last week’s portion, when Jacob, while sleeping, has a vision of angels and of God. God assures Jacob of God’s continuing presence, no matter where Jacob travels. Jacob, equal parts believer and skeptic, gives the schizophrenic response: “How awesome is this place,” along with striking a bargain with God – food and clothing in exchange for Jacob’s fealty. He builds a matzeivah to mark that spot and renames the place Beit-El – “house of God.”
His return to Beit-El this week to get confirmation of the new name received while wrestling with God/divine being/self can be seen as a profound moment of self-assessment. Look at what he has experienced: being tricked by Laban, years of chafing under Laban, the intricacies of balancing the personal dynamics of his two wives, the fear of facing his past through his reunification with Esau, his daughter taken forcibly and then the violent revenge exacted by his sons Simeon and Levi. In a few short decades Jacob has acquired quite a history – a history befitting the trials of an entire people, really. Indeed, his new name will become just that – the moniker of a people.
As God declares that Jacob will become Yisra’el, the one who struggles with God, what is he thinking? What pieces of his past, his experience does he see as the formational parts of his identity? What does Jacob feel is his very essence? Is he Jacob the successful sheep breeder? Is he Jacob the one who confronts God and holds his own? Is he Jacob the onetime trickster restored finally to his brother? Is he victim or is he hero? Is he father or still a struggling child? We do not know. The response that Torah records is that Jacob, upon officially receiving the name Yisra’el builds another matzeivah.
We, Jacob’s descendants known as Yisra’el, have been pushed to a moment of self-assessment. The Pew report titled “A Portrait of Jewish Americans” is causing a lot of angst over the data it contains. We Jews are being forced to answer Jacob’s question – who are we? Everyone who reads the report focuses on a different aspect of all this data that seems to define who American Jews are right now. For most, probably the most eyebrow raising statistics have to do with the results of interfaith marriage. Putting aside the question of what the actual inter-marriage rate is, only 20% of all interfaith couples are raising their children “fully Jewish.” A companion statistic shows only 14% of interfaith couples join a synagogue. Understandably many Jewish professionals see these figures as disastrous. For them it is the most telling statistic in the entire Pew report. But not for me.
No, I am far more disturbed by a different statistic. In response to the question, “What is essential to being Jewish?” the number one answer, with 73%, was “Remembering the Holocaust.” Wow! This placed ahead of “leading an ethical life,” and “working for justice/equality.” Far, far down the list were “Being part of a Jewish community” and “observing Jewish law,” with 28% and 19% respectively.
Allow me to state the obvious interpretations of these figures. For the overwhelming majority of American Jews, remembering the Jewish victimhood of the Holocaust is more essential to their Jewish identity than any lesson on morality, justice, ethics, God or obligations to the community. In other words, being a living memorial to Jewish tragedy strikes a deeper chord with American Jews than any Jewish call for positive living, than the call for a relationship with God, or for positive action through our mitzvoth – be they ritual or ethical. How ironic that a religion that focuses so much on life, on our obligation to build better lives; to live full meaningful lives, has most of its adherents focused on an identity through the tragedy of death.
I understand how important the Holocaust is in Jewish history. I am the child of a survivor. I am in the process of researching a book that will give the account of my family’s journey through the war years and the Holocaust. But for me the real lesson I have come to appreciate in meeting and interviewing my family’s survivors is the rich, meaningful JEWISH lives so many have built in the aftermath of tragedy. How have we Jewish professionals allowed the richness and beauty of Judaism to be overshadowed by an obsession with Jewish victimhood?
The answer, of course, is multi layered. It contains the use of the Holocaust to spur Jewish fundraising. It includes the use of victimhood to justify the existence Israel (which needs no such justification). It includes religious school teachers who were moved to teach nothing but the Holocaust. (I recall that when I arrived in Tallahassee the Holocaust was being taught in 4 separate religious school grades. Why? Because the teachers wanted to). And of course it includes the depth of the tragedy.
So now we wrestle. Those of us who work in places we wish to refer to as a “Beit El,” “house of God,” have to wrestle with this. How do we offer/teach/lead a Judaism that is spiritually rich, intellectually honest, emotionally inspiring and uplifting – to offer an essence to Jewishness that builds pillars for a rich Jewish future instead of simply monuments to the tragedy of death? And yes, this really is wrestling with God and humans. In what way will we prevail?
Remember that Jacob builds a matzeivah at Beit El, once when he leaves and again when he returns. What is a matzeivah? It can be either a pillar or a monument. Each is a very different thing. A pillar is an active part of a living structure. A monument is a memorial to that which is gone, that which is past. Each Jewish congregation, indeed each individual Jew is a matzeivah. We just have to make the choice as to which definition we will be.
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged Jacob wrestles, Jewish identity, Pew report on American Judaism | 1 Comment »
Last week was framed by two events unconnected on the surface, but rather connected in my mind. First was my presentation at a commemoration of the 75th anniversary of Krystallnact. I shared stories learned this summer from interviewing my surviving family – in Germany and across the US. Krystallnact was the tipping point for many German Jews regarding their fate in Germany. Since 1933 there had been a steady worsening of the oppression of Jews in Germany, the passing of more anti-Semitic laws, more arrests, more Jews sent to concentration camps. On November 9,10 1938 it all exploded with thousands of Jews arrested, Jewish businesses destroyed, Jewish homes invaded. This night of terror forced many Jews to finally concede that the Nazis were not just some passing phase, but a persistent reality that would not soon fade away.
The Nazi party excelled in demonizing those it determined to be the “other.” Jews, Gypsies, homosexuals, people with physical handicaps were all singled out as not fully “Aryan,” meaning not worthy of citizenship in the Reich. Those not conforming to Nazi party ideology were labeled disloyal Germans. Anyone daring to voice political opposition to the Nazi party was arrested or worse. Indeed, one of my great uncles was beaten to death in 1937 because of his leadership in the Social Democratic party.
The Nazis inculcated a culture in which German businesses stopped dealing with those deemed “undesirable” – blaming the victims for the reason they no longer deserved access to goods and services. A great example is a letter sent to my great uncle Karl Romberg dated December 29, 1938, from LAB, a health insurance provider to small businesses. The opening paragraph of the letter says:
“We have cause to point out to you, a Jewish member of the LAB, that your membership is most unwelcome due to your racial affiliation. On the one hand, our Aryan members cannot be expected to be in a risk-bearing community with Jews and perhaps give up their own assets whenever the latter fall ill. On the other hand, our employees cannot be induced after the events of November 9th and 10th (italics added by me) to deal with the affairs of Jewish members”
The hypocrisy of the letter is obvious but still worth emphasizing. Jewish members paid into the LAB the same as non-Jews. So the risks are proportionately distributed. This is a simple casting out of the “other” from a business relationship, and using the Nazi spurred oppression of Krystallnacht as an excuse – in effect blaming the victim.
But what framed all of these lessons from Krystallnact in a new light was participating in a panel discussion through our ongoing “Faith, Food, and Friday” series on racism in America in a post Trayvon Martin atmosphere. Joining me were 3 other clergy as well as Ahmad Abuznaid, a founder and leader of the Dream Defenders – the political action group that occupied the Florida state capital after the verdict in the Martin case came down. We discussed many aspects of race issues in America – the changing demographics of the country, the persistence of prejudice, the need to form relationships across ethnic and ideological barriers – but there was one aspect of the discussion that has haunted me, that just refuses to go away.
Our justice system has a serious problem. As a percentage of our population, we have the largest prison population among all modern industrialized nations. Along with this, one in 3 African American males has spent, is spending or will spend time in prison. We have created a system in which imprisoning people is a cottage industry. Instead of working to rehabilitate, we simply incarcerate. I do not deny that there are some crimes for which incarceration is very appropriate, but there exists a pipeline in our schools that identifies and categorizes children from very early ages and steers them into the prison system. The details of this business, how and why it must be drastically reformed are a subject for future discussion. For now I want to contemplate why America allows a system in which prison is the default remedy for so many infractions of the law.
On the practical level the answer is simple – an industry needs customers to thrive. The 2008 “kids for cash” scandal illustrates how this system can run amok. Two judges were convicted of sentencing children to private institutions in exchange for payoffs. While this is a strong argument against the privatization of prisons, one cannot escape the fact that state run prisons also become self justifying entities that demand a flow of prisoners.
But I think there is an ideological reason for the American obsession with incarceration. Too many of us judge people as “evil” or “undesirable” as opposed to understanding that it is behavior that is most times evil or undesirable. Incarceration presumes the person is unredeemable and must be isolated from society. There are certainly cases where that is likely true, but the huge numbers of minorities placed in the prison system, especially for lesser crimes, indicates a different motive. In this dominantly Christian country we too often dived people into good and evil camps. Indeed there is a Christian theology that confines people to an eternity in prison – separating them as unredeemable from those who will enter heaven.
This is not the Jewish way. We begin from a point that sees evil as in an action, not inherent in an individual. Ergo, most people have the potential for redemption. There is a wonderful story in the Talmud illustrating this tension.
“There were certain boors in Rabbi Meir’s neighborhood causing him considerable distress. He prayed for mercy for them that they would die (by killing them before they committed too many sins, their place in the next world would at least be assured). His wife, Beruriah said to him, ‘Why are you praying thus?’ He answered, ‘Because it is written, Let sinners cease fro the earth(Psalms 104:35). To which Beruriah answered, ‘It is not written as sinners but sins. Further, go to the end of the verse which reads that wicked will be no more. Rather you should pray that these boors repent of their wickedness then wicked will be no more.’” (Berachot 10a)
Dividing people into groups of good and evil justifies removal and separation. Far harder, but more powerful is to look for the redeemable and to work to bring those who do wrong back into the mainstream of our society. Racism/prejudice is the surface evaluation of someone as “evil” and a refusal to search for the good.
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged good and evil, Krystallnacht, Prejudice and racism, racism in America | Leave a Comment »
I was watching CNN Monday night – glued, really, to watching commentators explain the morass that has become our political system. The discussion turned to protests that had occurred; one at the World War II memorial, the other in front of the White House. Just to recap, a protest by veterans over the closing of the national memorials was taken over by right wing politicians looking to score political points. Senator Ted Cruz and Sarah Palin attended, each giving the requisite conservative talking points, but the person garnering the real attention and stirring the discussion was Larry Klayman of Freedom Watch.
Here is what Klayman said. “I call upon all of you to wage a second American nonviolent revolution, to use civil disobedience, and to demand that this president leave town, to get up, to put down the Koran, to get up off his knees, and to figuratively come out with his hands up.” He also said that America is ruled by a president who “Bows to Allah.” Let’s put aside for now the ignorance over the implication that worshipping Allah is something bad (Allah is simply the Arabic word for God. Did Klayman really mean to say worshipping God is bad?). Let’s also put aside for now the implication that one cannot be Moslem and be a good, patriotic American, even president. Klayman’s words need to be seen in the larger context of what else was happening in these various protests.
In front of the White House a man stood waving a Confederate flag. As Washington DC police were trying to maintain some kind of order, they were being derided as similar to Nazis or as “Kenyans.” All of this is just a continuation of the “birther” mentality, of course. This is a group that has refused to accept Barak Obama as the legitimately elected President of the United States. We have been watching this movement build since the 2008 election. All of the panelists on CNN Monday night, Democrat and Republican, expressed their disagreement with the political views of the protesters. No one felt the shutdown should continue. No one felt much positive would come of allowing the country to go past the debt ceiling. However, when Andrew Sullivan said that he (a former Reagan Republican) wanted someone in the Republican Party to repudiate the crazy statements of people like Klayman, the Republicans on the panel wavered. None would take that step.
Instead, Rich Galen opined that the expressions of some Republicans questioning of the legitimacy of the Obama presidency is just the latest iteration of what often happens. He gave the example of the many Democrats who did not accept the legitimacy of George W. Bush’s presidency. He continued by saying many Democrats derided Bush throughout his presidency. These are really fair points if one would be comparing Bush, say, to Clinton. However, there is a key difference between the extreme left’s failure to accept Bush and the extreme right’s failure to accept Obama.
Bush’s presidency began under the cloud of a suspect electoral process. The 2000 election was one of the rarities in which the loser won the popular vote but lost the electoral vote. Further, the electoral vote was lost because of a supreme court ruling over the continuation of recounts in Florida. Even though later evidence suggests that the recount would not have changed the outcome, it was a presidential election lacking a clear mandate. The non acceptance of Bush was based on the process, not Bush himself.
That is not the case with Obama. Barak Obama was the clear winner in 2008 (nearly a landslide) as well as in 2012. The extreme right’s attempts to delegitimize Obama is not based on the electoral process, but on Obama himself. If you study the pictures and rhetoric of the extreme right, it is filled with racial innuendos, accusations of Obama not being a true American, insinuations that he is a Moslem – all a demonization of the person. Why? The answer is what no Republican wishes to admit – Obama is black (surprise!). The majority of Republicans are not racist and even grudgingly accept the Obama presidency. BUT – and here is the key point – there is a key element of the party that will not accept the changing face of America. We are soon to be a majority minority country. This is the reason that this same contingent does not want reasonable immigration reform. There will be too many of “those” people in our country taking our resources, jobs and voting for non-white candidates for president. This is a real and serious problem for the Republican party; the same problem the Democrats had in the era in which they battled internally with segregationist Democrats.
There is an additional difference between the presence of crazies on the right in the GOP and on the left in the Democratic party. The Democratic party allows the crazies to speak (it is a free country after all), but they have no seat at the power table. Yes, MSNBC gives a show to someone like Al Sharpton (I just cannot forgive the Tawana Brawley debacle), but he has no real influence on policy. This is not the case with Republicans. The latest debacle over the debt ceiling, and the shutdown of the government shows that the inmates are running the Republican asylum. This is not just bad for the GOP, but really bad for the country. For our system operates best with two sane parties, each representing different perspectives, negotiating solutions.
But all of this really strays from what I think is the main problem highlighted by the CNN round table discussion over the protests and their implications. No one is willing to stand up and be what we call in Yiddish a “mensch.” Where are the Republicans of conscience who will stop making excuses for their whacko wing. And where are the Democrats of conscience who stand ready to support sane Republican colleagues instead of chortling over the GOP’s internal problems? Where are the political leaders on both sides who will get off of their ideological high horses and stop worrying about the next election and instead really put our country first?
There is a teaching in Pirkei Avot given by the great Rabbi Hillel, “In a place where there are no men, strive to be a man.” I see no one striving.
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged anti obama protests, radicalism on right and left, Washington DC protests | Leave a Comment »
I get that different political perspectives yield different solutions to problems. I get that in general the Democratic party defaults to a government funded and organized solution to national problems while the Republican party prefers market based and/or local solutions to national problems. I also understand that a lot of what happens in Washington D.C. is political theater meant to keep selected political bases loyal to their respective elected official/congressman/party. I get that bitter partisanship has been a normal part of the American political landscape since the founding of the country. I understand the flaws in our political system that lead to gerrymandered safe districts and a House of Representatives that is always running for reelection, therefore spending more time raising money for, and planning the next campaign, instead of governing. I understand all of that.
But I am a rabbi. I speak to people of all sorts, of all political leanings. Most of them claim a religious affiliation, claiming to have a moral system inspired by that affiliation. Whether they are Christian, Jewish, or Muslim, most of the people I talk to say their works are somehow tied to their faith. So there is a lot I just do not understand, most of it having to do with the current government shutdown and its connection to the Affordable Care Act (Obamacare).
For starters, I do not understand how anyone claiming any kind of religious faith can be opposed to extending access to health care for the poor – especially the working poor. I do not understand how professed believing Jews cannot see providing health care as an obligation to do tikkun olam, “repair of the world,” or simply the directive in Leviticus 19 to “Love your neighbor as yourself.” I just don’t get that. I do not get how any professed Christian does not read the Gospels and come away feeling some measure of the deep concern for the poor expressed by Jesus. Jesus hardly speaks about homosexuality and almost every chapter contains parables or teachings about obligations to the poor. But to hear the Bible as expounded by so many Republican Christians, you would think the opposite is true. I just do not understand that.
I do not understand how the insurance exchanges set up by the ACA are a government takeover of the health care system and an intrusion into the doctor/patient relationship. The government website is a directory to available private insurance plans in your state. It does not tell you which one to buy. Neither does it issue the policy. It merely takes your application and connects it with the company of your choice – kind of like a high tech personal shopper. It is like the security guard in a shopping mall who gives you directions to a store you cannot find. The security guard is NOT telling you in what store you must shop or barring you from entering the mall in the first place. I just do not understand why some people do not understand that.
I do not understand how the states with the largest populations of uninsured poor (e.g. Texas and Florida) are the ones most adamantly against the provision of health insurance to the poor. I do not understand these states’ refusal to set up insurance exchanges to help the most disadvantaged consumers shop for private health insurance. I do not understand why they do not accept the expansion of federally provided Medicaid funds to cover the poorest of the poor. I especially do not understand this when economic experts on health care (e.g. in Houston, Texas) show that such Medicaid would end up saving local tax dollars currently being spent on publically supported health providers – even after the state becomes responsible for 10% of the expanded Medicaid costs (Time Magazine 10/14/13). I do not understand how anyone who purports to a) care about the disadvantaged and b) cares about fiscal responsibility does not support these programs. I do not understand how representatives from these states could call themselves religious.
I do not understand how Republican leaders can lay the shut down of the government at the feet of anyone but themselves. The issue they trumpeted was opposition to Obamacare. It is clear to me after listening for months to Rand Paul, Ted Cruz, and a plethora of Tea Party affiliated House members, that if the President and Senate did not defund Obamacare, they would carry out a shutdown of the government. I do not understand why they think I am not paying attention to their words of the last several months. Their intent has been clear. I do not understand why they think I am stupid.
Even more, I do not understand why these same Republican leaders claim to be speaking for the American people, or even a majority of the American people. Americans are roughly split on the ACA. A Rasmussen poll from Monday, October 7 (Rasmussen is hardly a liberal institution) shows a shifting trend in favor of the ACA – 45% having a favorable view of the law while 49% view it unfavorably. What these polls fail to show is how many of the unfavorables reflect a desire for a single payer system as opposed to any health care reform at all. Other polls show that despite the split views on Obamacare, by a huge margin Americans do not want the functioning of the government or the ability of our government to pay its debt, tied to defunding the ACA.
I know the political answer is that these representatives are from districts that are “safe seats.” I know that they were elected because they agree with or pander to the most conservative segments of their homogenous districts. I know that most of these representatives are relative political neophytes – which is why there were elected. But I do not understand how the responsibilities of being part of a national government have not broadened their views. I do not understand their failure to see an America outside of their home town and I do not understand their failure to feel some responsibility for all the people, not just their voters.
But most of all, I do not understand the blindness. I do not understand blindness to the working poor who need Head Start Centers to care for their children while they fill jobs that provide a meager subsistence. I do not understand their blindness to the well-documented increasing gap between the wealthiest and the poorest, or the erosion of a true middle class. I do not understand the obsession with classifying people as “takers,” who are merely trying to survive. I do not understand their blindness to this reality: for most, the American dream is just an American illusion. And I do not understand how all of us are allowing the destruction of even that illusion.
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged Moral obligations to poor, Obamacare and funding the government, Republican unfairness | 3 Comments »
Sukkot day 1: the congregation’s sukkah looks fresh and new. The palm leaves thrown on top to form the roof are freshly cut, lush, and green. Decorations representing the efforts and artistic abilities of each religious school class have just been hung with colored strings. One clever teacher had the children decorate CD’s to hang, creating a shiny, multicolored series of reflective decorations – like stars inside the sukkah. Clean chairs are placed inside, ready for families to eat a meal or just sit. Indeed, parents and children are already milling around the outside of the sukkah, waiting to shake the lulav. Our community sukkah feels alive with the buzz of Jews celebrating a joyful holiday.
Sukkot day 6: After a few days of rain the chairs are still wet – dripping water. Some are knocked over. The palm leaves on the roof of the sukkah have mostly turned brown, and even those with a semblance of green hang limp and dank from the roof. All of the paper decorations show the wear and tear from 6 days of exposure to the elements. Only the decorated CD’s continue to look undisturbed. Their shine looks out of place, however, in the context of the now drab surroundings of the rest of the sukkah. Few people enter the sukkah now, partly because of the rain, partly because we are at a lull in the course of an 8 day holiday. The sukkah looks tired, as if it is ready for us to disassemble it, to put it to rest. I want to tell it, “just hang on for a couple more days. Don’t fall apart just yet.”
We teach that the sukkah represents the temporary dwelling places the Israelites used as they wandered through the wilderness. The structure is supposed to be just sturdy enough to last the holiday. The roof is supposed to be of material that grows in nature, but arranged so that you can see the stars. As we sit having a meal in the sukkah or even some camping out in a sukkah, we are to feel connected to the Jewish ancestral story – one of wandering, one of complete dependence on the bounty God provides. The decorations, which thematically revolve around fruit and vegetables from the completed harvest, remind us to be thankful for the food resulting from another successful agricultural season; but with the sense that the season would not happen but for God. Yes, the sukkah is all of this.
And there is even more.
During Sukkot we are supposed to read Kohellet, the book of Ecclesiastes. One does not have to read deep into the first chapter to pick up on the theme. Our time here is short. Humans come and go. Nothing of permanence results. We are stuck in a pattern of repetition as there is “nothing new under the sun.” While the physical sukkah reminds us of impermanence – the fragility of life, Kohellet forces us to confront the realities of our impermanence. It is, in a way, a literary sukkah. When we dwell in the words of Kohellet we feel as vulnerable to the world spiritually and emotionally as we do physically when sitting in an actual sukkah. Our sukkot are pseudo shelters. They are the facades of protection we erect that are easily swept away. Kohellet reminds us that is how to sum up all of life.
My very favorite Sukkot tale comes from the Talmud. It is the Gemara’s comment on the ruling that a sukkah erected on the deck of a ship is a valid sukkah. It so happened that Rabbi Akiba and Rabbi Gamaliel were travelling on a ship during Sukkot. Rabbi Akiba builds a sukkah on the deck of the ship which Rabbi Gamaliel declares invalid. Their discussion on the ship is not recorded, but one can imagine the back and forth between these two great sages. The next morning a great wind comes and blows away the sukkah. Rabbi Gamaliel then says to Akiba, “Akiba, where is your Sukkah?” One can almost hear the sarcasm dripping from Gamaliel’s voice as he asks his colleague the question.
But despite Gamaliel’s snarkiness, I believe Akiba has it right. Whether or not the sukkah survives on the deck of the ship is not the point. The unknowing whether it might or might not survive IS the point. Despite the probability that the structure will get blown away, Akiba builds it anyway. Even more, as a Jew who takes the holiday seriously, I will bet that Akiba celebrated in his sukkah with utter joy. His building it on the deck of the ship illustrates what I think is the beautiful lesson of Sukkot. In the face of the fragility and uncertainty of life, we grasp those moments we can and we celebrate. Through our celebration, as individuals, families and communities, we affirm that life is not empty, useless. It is a treasure chest for us to fill with moments of meaning. It might be gone tomorrow, but we celebrate today.
Each of us is a sukkah. We are impermanent, fragile physical structures. We will fade a little, wilt a little with time, and then in a whisper we are gone. But we can be filled with happiness, joy and celebration. We can feel thankful for sustenance, family, and community. Even though we might be blown away in the morning, we can grab hold of today, asserting for at least a brief moment, our life has extreme worth.
Chag same’ach
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged sukkot | Leave a Comment »
The Search for Lost Perfection
Are we an experiment that failed? Look around. Could anyone have planned for our world to be the way it is? Error, human error, is evident at every turn. We live in a world of broken dreams. We live in a world of broken promises. We live in a world of broken ideals. We are the embodiment of potential lost, potential wasted. What in our makeup causes us to be numb to another’s pain, to walk by the lost soul pleading for food, to take those who love us for granted? Look at ourselves. Flaws evident at every turn. We would seem to be an experiment that failed.
Yet, it is our particular oddity to keep searching for perfection. Having, for a brief bit of time, inhabited paradise, we keep thinking that we can return. We cannot let go of the notion that the next peace negotiation, the next technical innovation, the next medical advancement, will somehow put us on the road back to Eden. We refuse to fully abandon hope. We search for lost perfection. We yearn to be allowed back into paradise.
Midrash teaches this about our creation. God gathered dust from the four corners of the world, transported it to the sight of the ancient Temple on Mount Moriah, molded the human figure, and breathed into it the first soul. God then took this thing, newly created from the dust of this world called human, and placed it in Eden, paradise – the place of perfection. Adam entered paradise with Eve at midday on the sixth day of creation. By the twilight of the first Shabbat they had sinned. After Shabbat, a last bit of time God permitted them to inhabit paradise, thereby giving them a taste of what would be left behind; man and woman were expelled back into the world from which they were created.
Did God know this failure would happen? Our bodies are created from the elements of the mundane. Our souls are the very breath of God. Did God expect a body created from this world not to fail in paradise, despite housing a God given soul? Did God not expect the material would corrupt the spiritual? Did God really think placing the flawed in paradise would somehow perfect the flaws? I think of Eden as a kind of spiritual Petri dish. We were placed in a controlled environment to see if we could survive. We could not. It was an experiment that failed.
Midrash does seem to indicate that God knew this possible outcome, but was willing to take this risk anyway. Rabbi Berachiah taught, when the Holy One decided to create Adam, God saw righteous and wicked both arising from him. God said, “If I create him, wicked men will spring from him; but if I do not create him, how are the righteous to spring from him?” What did God do? The Holy one disregarded the potential for wicked, thus making a decision that God’s presence would always be associated with the quality of mercy. Then, when consulting the ministering angels, God hid the potential for evil from them, knowing they would then object to the creation of humanity. So God created us anyway, despite the risk, despite anticipating the objections of those perfected beings that inhabit the divine realm with God.
We might reasonably ask, “why?”
Perhaps the experiment is not over. Perhaps it has not yet failed. The angelic retinue, has no desires, no wants. They are content with their perfection. But we humans? We are filled with wants and desire. To a great extend we are enslaved to them. Yet, we cannot let go of the notion there is something more – something more than the fulfillment of desires – which of course we keep finding are never really fulfilled. We dream about paradise. We give it names. Utopia. Eden. The world to come. Heaven. All names for a more perfected time, a more perfected state. We try to create heaven on earth. We call Shabbat a taste of Eden. All of this is a search for perfection, a perfect time, a perfect place where we might be the best version of ourselves. It is a search for lost perfection.
And God has turned responsibility for this search over to us. It is all in our hands. There is no divine rescue on the way. Our sages knew this. Consider how they conveyed it to us.
Midrash teaches that when Adam and Eve were expelled from Eden, they dwelt at first on Moriah – the Temple Mount in Jerusalem. Moriah is considered the very gateway to Eden. The history of that spot teaches some things about humanity. To begin with, we do not even recognize the gateway to paradise. Or, if we do, rather than share the entrance, we fight over it – thinking only that people like ourselves, be they Jews, Moslem, or Christians – are deserving of possessing the doorway to paradise. Do we ever stop to think that paradise might just include an acceptance of all of us, despite our diverse ethnicities, religions and views?
But there is something more taught by the sages. I think it is the bigger lesson. Adam and Eve leave the protection of paradise after Shabbat. From that moment, they are dependent on their abilities to navigate this world – to find ways to survive. But God did not let them leave empty handed. According to midrash, God made two pieces of flint which Adam struck together and made fire. Observe that God did not give Adam and Eve fire, but the means to make fire. The producing of the fire is up to us. They way we use it is up to us. We are reminded of this while reciting the blessing over fire as part of the Havdalah service, the service taking us out of Shabbat. Indeed, there is an interesting discussion over the proper wording of the blessing for fire in the Talmud. Beit Shammai says the wording should be, “shebara m’or ha’eish,” which means “who created the illumination of fire.” However, Beit Hillel teaches the words should be, “borei m’orei ha’eish,” which means “who creates the illuminations of fire.” Beit Shammai’s wording commemorates a singular event in the past. Beit Hillel’s wording reminds us that the creation of fire is continuous, multiple, and our responsibility. We keep making fire. We are the ones tasked with continuing to bring fire, and its light, into the world.
So there nascent humanity sits, on the doorway to Eden, holding the means to survival in our hands. Whither do we go? Often it is a vain search to re-enter the perfection from which we were expelled. A story from the Talmud well illustrates the results of our attempts to re-enter Eden. This aggadah tells of 4 rabbis who entered paradise. They were ben Azai, ben Zoma, Elisha ben Abuya, and Rabbi Akiva. Rabbi Akiva warned them, “when you see the crystal clear marble that forms the wall around heaven, do not shout ‘there is water, there is water how can we ever enter.’” Akiva was telling them not to be fooled by what they saw. Upon glancing at the divine presence ben Azai died, ben Zoma became insane, Elisha ben Abuya had his mind corrupted by perversions. Only Rabbi Akiva emerged in peace, because he knew not to be fooled into looking at the divine presence.
What can we make of this tale? Akiva knows that there is no place in paradise for humans – not yet. He goes with his friends to warn them, to try to keep them from the traps of a realm they cannot comprehend, for which none of them is ready. He is able to emerge b’shalom – in peace or as whole person – from paradise, because he is grounded in this world, knowing it is his place. It does not matter that Akiva will die being tortured by the Romans while clutching a Torah scroll. This is as far from a perfect ending as one can imagine. The Talmud itself poses the question as to why a sage as wise as Akiva deserves this ending.
The only answer I have is that Rabbi Akiva was the rabbinic master at finding meaning in each detail of the Torah and looked to apply Torah to every aspect of life. He understood that for imperfect humans, a detailed instruction manual would be invaluable. He believed that manual was Torah. He was unconcerned about his end. He focused on the moment at hand, the moment in which he lived and taught. Even the moment of his death, clutching a Torah while being tortured, with the words of the Sh’ma on his lips, was inspirational if not instructive. His story challenges us to consider what are our core values. To what will we cling in the moment of our ultimate crisis? Will we be as grounded in hope for this world, even in the face of death? When our personal tipping point moment occurs, how will we act? Will we, like Akiva, declare the Sh’ma?
I cannot answer that question for myself with any surety. Can you? But I can see examples that provide a bit of inspiration, a bit of hope. I can see cases of people who took the figurative tools for fire God gave them, and created their own fire, a fire that shines with the light of righteousness. Allow me to share two.
If you have seen the movie, “Orchestra of Exiles” then you are familiar with the name Bronislaw Huberman. Huberman, born in 1882 in Poland, was a child prodigy on the violin. As an adult his playing was hailed for its individual expressiveness and tone. He played on many of the great stages of the world, including Carnegie Hall. He played for many of the royal houses of Europe. He was a musical superstar in his time, and as such could have taken refuge easily in any number of safe havens while the Nazi party took over Germany. His path could have easily been one of the spoiled star, refusing to worry about anyone but himself. But Huberman saw the Nazis for what they were early on. He recognized they were not a passing phase, soon to fade away. He realized that Hitler and his minions were dead serious about their plan for European Jewry. So he decided to act in the only manner his life’s path had trained him.
Huberman stated, “One has to build a fist against anti-Semitism – a first class orchestra will be this fist.” The orchestra he had in mind was the creation of the Palestine Symphony Orchestra, which would eventually become today’s Israel Philharmonic. Risking his own fortune, and using his fame as a bartering chip, Huberman recruited Jewish musicians for this new orchestra. None of this was easy. Many Jewish artists did not want to leave what seemed like secure posts in Europe. Huberman needed to make them see the reality of their plights before they experienced personal danger. He had to arrange for visas from a British government that controlled Palestine in the face of growing Arab opposition to any Jewish immigration to Palestine. Yet, in the end he saved over 1,000 Jews – musicians and their families – and created a first rate orchestra in the process. Knowing Arturo Toscanini’s opposition to the Nazis, Huberman convinced him to conduct the first concerts in Palestine.
The result of Huberman’s efforts is not just the saving of 1,000 Jewish lives from probable death, but the creation of a musical, cultural icon. No less a figure than maestro Zubin Mehta said this, “The seeds of culture that Huberman planted here, that he brought from Central Europe, we are reaping its rewards today.”
But one does not have to be famous to strike a flame that shines with the light of righteousness. I would like to share the story of a 7 year old girl named Morgan. Morgan is the granddaughter of my former office manager, Jayne, from my old factory in Pennsylvania. From 1979 until 1994, Jayne was the person I depended on to run all aspects of our office. After closing our factory, I had no contact with her until just this June, when she found me on Facebook, and began reading the blog I was posting about my family journey. We began to email and message each other. Finally, a few weeks ago, we had a long conversation to catch up on family news. Much of our talk centered around her granddaughter.
Morgan was born deaf. This came as an utter shock to her family, who then went through all of the predictable stages of grief – anger, denial, questioning. Jayne told me that it felt like they were mourning someone who died. Morgan’s uncle summed up their emotions by remarking, “even the dog can hear.” After consulting with doctors and each other, the family decided to have Morgan receive cochlear implants. These have to be done in two stages, one for each ear. The first set went in when Morgan was 4 months old. Even with the implants the ability to hear is not automatic, but takes a few months. By the time Morgan was 8 months old, she was starting to read lips and beginning to hear. At age 4 she received her second set, which then allowed her to localize sound. All of this of course necessitated many trips to the hospital, constant monitoring of the implants, not to mention the limitations on Morgan’s lifestyle – no swimming, no overly physical sports. Despite all of the difficulties, Morgan learned to speak pretty much on schedule. She still studies people’s faces while listening to them and trying to understand them. Because she has spent so much of her young life interacting with adults, she has some wisdom beyond her years. When meeting her 2nd grade teacher for this year she asked her, “I know you used to teach 5th grade. Now you are a 2nd grade teacher. Did you want to come here?” She was asking the teacher if she saw this as a demotion. None of this, however, is what really makes Morgan so special.
A couple of years ago, after yet another stay in the hospital, Morgan woke up to find that a local business had provided an Easter basket for all the children staying in the hospital that weekend. Morgan, who had woken up in hospitals many times to absolutely nothing, was thrilled by this Easter basket. Realizing the joy it brought her waking up to a present in the hospital, Morgan decided that other children deserved to always wake up to presents during their hospital stays. So she has made it her mission to provide buckets of goodies to every child who has to stay in her hospital.
This seven year old girl raises money by selling brownies after school and on weekends. She decided to print up tee shirts to sell at a community fair. A local business got wind of what she was doing and paid for the tee shirts. As a result, the full profit from the sales goes to fill those gift buckets for the kids. To date this year, Morgan has raised $1500 from tee shirt sales and brownies that she bakes. She buys the presents to fill the buckets and makes regular deliveries of gift buckets to the hospital to distribute to children. The hospital staff knows her and knows exactly what to do with the buckets she delivers. She has steady customers for her brownies; that know what she does with the money. All of this initiative comes from Morgan. Her mom and grandma feel they will support this for as long as Morgan is motivated. Like any child she has times in which she is less devoted and times more devoted to raising the money, but she keeps on, determined to provide those gift buckets to children in the hospital.
Both stories, of Huberman and Morgan, remind me of a Talmudic tale. One day Honi the circle maker was travelling along a road. He saw a man planting a carob tree. He asked him, “in how many years will this tree bear fruit?” “70 years,” the man replied. “Is it clear to you that you will live another 70 years?” Honi asked. The man replied, “I found a world with carob trees. Just as my forefathers planted for me, I too plant for my children.” Is this not what Huberman did and what Morgan is doing? They are planting for those who come after them. Both are examples of taking a step towards paradise.
And maybe that is all we are supposed to do. None of us might ever reach paradise. But if each of us takes a small step towards Eden, the day might come when humanity gets there. However, maybe there is a greater, more important point. Perhaps we are not even meant to go to Eden. Perhaps that is not our goal. For we are taught in Pirkei Avot (4:17) “An hour spent in repentance and good deeds in this world is better than all of the life in the world to come.” Maybe, just maybe our goal is not perfection, but to find that one hour when our deeds exceed the value of eternal life. Why, you might ask, is that hour more valuable than all the life in the world to come? Because in that one hour we are not thinking of ourselves, whereas the world to come is only of benefit to ourselves. We are not an experiment that has failed. We might not be destined for Eden, but our search just might momentarily elevate us to a level that even exceeds paradise.
Isn’t that what this whole holiday period that culminates on Yom Kippur really about? Our mundane routines cause us to focus on the less important. Too much of our activity separates us from each other and therefore from God. But our coming together on Yom Kippur is not just about confessing sin, it is about bringing us a bit closer to perfection, to sheleimut, to wholeness. The mystics taught that on Yom Kippur all the souls of the people Israel are united as one soul. Today we stand together, we pray together, we hope together. Today we support each other in the search for lost perfection, that through our community turning collectively back towards God perhaps we will spot the doorway leading to Eden once again. And if we can reside for only a moment in that vestibule, that will be enough.
Oh God, we pray that there we might find you, that we might be at peace praising you and through our deeds, our actions thanking you always. Amen.
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged looking for paradise, morality | Leave a Comment »
The Big Tent
Making predictions can be a tricky business. Often what seems to be obvious today, turns out to be foolish. Allow me to share a few predictions from the early 20th century about some key inventions.
The first, written by Bruce Bliven, is about the impact of that new fangled rage in 1922 called radio. “There will be only one orchestra left on earth, giving nightly worldwide concerts…universities will be combined into one super-institution, conducting courses by radio for students in Zanzibar, Kamchatka and Oskaloosa…instead of newspapers, trained orators will dictate the news of the world day and night, and the bedtime story will be told every evening from Paris to the sleepy children of a weary world…the last vestiges of privacy, solitude and contemplation will have vanished into limbo.” Sounds a little bit about what some say today about the internet.
The next prediction was written in 1921 by James Quirk of Photoplay Magazine about movies, “We talk of the worth, the service, the entertaining power, the community value…the educational influence, the civilizing and commercial possibilities of the motion picture. And everyone has, singularly enough, neglected to mention its rarest and subtlest beauty: ‘Silence.’”
Or my favorite prediction in 1936 by Rex Lambert in “The Listener,” “Television won’t matter in your lifetime or mine.”
Sometimes the predictions NOT made are more noteworthy. Who, for example, would have predicted that the New York Mets would win the World Series in 1969 after finishing dead last the first 7 years of their existence? Who would have predicted the US hockey team would beat the Russians in the 1980 Olympics? Who would have predicted that Barry Goldwater’s social views would be too liberal for today’s Republican party? Who would have predicted that a B grade movie actor, whose most notable co-star was a chimpanzee, would become one of the country’s most popular presidents? And who would have predicted that this full blooded Yankee from Philadelphia would be giving his 13th Kol Nidrei sermon to ya’ll tonight in Tallahassee?
Yup, predictions in general are tricky enough. They are probably outright foolish to attempt about Jews – who are notoriously not predictable. But that is what I will attempt tonight. The Jewish world is changing rapidly, my friends. I am part of two national groups of rabbis that are looking at and discussing the changes. I would like to share with you what we are observing – and a best guess of where we might be heading.
Let’s begin with a quiz. I will describe the profile of a Jew. You are to consider if they are best described by the label Reform, Conservative, or Orthodox.
The first person grew up in the URJ camping system. He was a NFTY song leader, teaches religious school and wears a kippah when at services. The second person, a woman, always wears a tallit and kippah during services. When she is at services not on Shabbat or a holiday she puts on tefillin to pray. The third person keeps kosher, grew up attending a Conservative shul and drives to services on Shabbat. She does not wear a kippah or tallit during services. The fourth person was raised orthodox, puts on tefillin every day and keeps kosher. He has no problem attending any kind of shul, however, finding something to enjoy in whatever synagogue he is praying. The fifth person keeps almost none of the traditional mitzvoth, rarely attends services, but is an ardent and vocal supporter of Israel, he actively promotes and participates in events about Israel. What do all of these profiles have in common? Every one describes a person who participates in some way in the Temple Israel community.
Yes, our congregation has all of these profiles as well as many more. We have the children or grandchildren of rabbis of all streams. We have interfaith couples. We have entire families who have converted to Judaism. We have same sex couples. We have single parents. We have those who believe fervently in God and those who think such belief is just superstition. We have southern Jews who grew up in a classical Reform environment, not knowing a word of Hebrew and Israelis who are fluent in Hebrew. We have Jews who rejected Judaism when young; but who have made their way back to us. We have non-Jews who are on the path of seeking Judaism. Temple Israel is a big tent, in which a panoply of people reside, all of whom feel some kind of connection to Judaism. This is our present.
Having this myriad of people connected to our congregation creates questions about definitions and about appropriate boundaries. Who is counted as a Jew and who is not? What is appropriate participation for the non-Jews among us in synagogue life, in ritual life? How are we supposed to define membership? What are differences between Jews by birth and Jews by choice? Who is an insider and who an outsider? What is it that actually makes someone a Jew anyway? Our natural inclination would be to think this complicated mix of population is due to the modern pluralistic America in which we live. To a certain extent that is true. However, I would like to share with you some teachings by the 13th century rabbi, Maimonides, which demonstrate how the diversity of issues we now face has been around for a long time. I also think that Maimonides’ solutions are instructive as to how to handle some of our boundary issues today.
Generally, we think of Judaism as being a religion about action, about deeds. Typically, when comparing Judaism to Christianity we teach that Christianity stresses creed; that is faith or belief, while Judaism stresses deed. Orthodoxy interprets those deeds to be fulfillment of the 613 mitzvoth – the strict following of Jewish law. Contemporary progressive Judaism acknowledges the importance of halachah, but places forceful emphasis on the ethical components of the law. Thus we have the Reform movement’s commitment to social justice. The Conservative movement, which has always viewed itself as true to halachah, ends up embracing all of the ethical decisions of the Reform movement, but uses intellectual devices that allow them to modify Jewish law. An example of this is the recent acceptance of gay and lesbian rabbis and same sex marriage. Orthodoxy completely rejects the gymnastics the Conservative movement plays with halachah and sees no essential difference between Reform and Conservative Judaism. The point of all of this is that whatever the stream of Judaism; we see a primacy of deeds over faith.
Maimonides ends up turning this on its head. As part of his commentary on Mishnah Sanhedrin, Maimonides lays out his 13 basic principles. Many of you know these through the song Yigdal – which is a summary of his 13 principles put to music. In introducing his 13 principles, Maimonides defines those who are part of the community of Israel as those who accept these principles – with particular emphasis on the belief in God who is non-corporeal (ein lo d’moot haguf, v’eino guf). In his masterpiece philosophical work, “The Guide for the Perplexed,” he reiterates this even more by teaching that belief in true ideas about God is more important than any particular law or deed. To put into plain terms – you are still Jewish if you eat shrimp, as long as you believe God exists and has no physical form. He expands upon this by teaching that the language of the Torah is metaphorical in terms of its descriptions of God, and teaches very little that is true about God’s essence. It is no wonder that just a few years after his death, some Jews were burning copies of “The Guide for the Perplexed” in protest over its contents.
Do not get me wrong. Maimonides himself was a strict, Torah observing Jew. He believed in the worth of all of the mitzvoth, even the non-rational ones, as a means of disciplining the Jew to be able to eschew the material world and focus upon developing the intellect, thus a true relationship with God. However, while many rabbis taught that to violate even one commandment was to place someone outside the boundaries of Judaism (in Hebrew called a meshumad); Maimonides taught that violating a particular law only places the person outside the boundaries with regards to that law, but NOT outside the boundaries of the people of Israel. Even the person who commits idolatry, while due the punishment proscribed for him, is NOT cut off from the people of Israel. How then does one fall outside the Jewish boundaries? By rejecting Judaism in a time of persecution, a person cuts him or her self off from the Jewish people. Again we cycle back to belief. If a person publically rejects Jewish belief in a time of difficulty for Jews, they have then failed on two counts. They have rejected true beliefs about God and they have rejected their people.
There is more. If a person publically rejects everything, all of Oral Torah, they become outside of the Jewish boundaries, yet this is only for one generation. The children can always be brought back. Even if the parents stop being Jewish the children can, in Maimonides view, always be rescued.
Maimonides is considered by many to be the greatest Jewish thinker of the last 2,000 years. I hope you can see his relevance for us. We have no universal conformity over proper practice. Every Jew seems to create their own personal version of Jewish ritual life. Those versions range from complete non-practice to strict adherence to the letter of Oral and Written Torah. Take as an example, the dietary laws. Some keep full kosher. Some keep it at home but not when eating out. Some restrain from eating the Biblically prohibited foods but do not worry about the method of slaughter. Some, stressing the ethical principles of kashrut, observe it by being vegetarian. Yet all of these are still considered Jews as long as they do not reject something central about Judaism. For Maimonides, that something central is true ideas about the nature of God.
In my 12 plus years in Tallahassee I have completed somewhere between 70 to 80 conversions. The common denominators for these people are as follows: they reject the idea that God could have the corporeal presence represented by classical Christian theology. They feel that our actions are a more significant religious expression than professing faith. I would guess these are the common denominators for almost everyone feeling some kind of connection to this congregation – Jewish or not. We can debate the details, the importance of ritual versus ethical mitzvoth, how much Hebrew should be in a service, how important is Israel to maintaining healthy Jewish life. But I would bet that close to 100% (for there is never unanimity among Jews) of you agree with those who are seeking Judaism.
However, communities need rules. Communities need guidelines. Communities need boundaries – or else chaos ensues. The difficulty is how to set boundaries of participation in various aspects of synagogue and community life. We have many in our community who are not technically Jewish yet they “lean” Jewish or feel that this is the community that bests fits their religious purpose. Some are on a path to become Jewish. Some are just interested in Judaism but not conversion. Some are in interfaith relationships and while liking Judaism, are not inclined to convert for any number of reasons. How do we set boundaries for them?
Here again some teachings by Maimonides are useful.
He addressed issues regarding the Karaite community. The Karaites were an outgrowth of Judaism (they considered themselves Jewish) that accepts the Hebrew Bible as the only authoritative word of God. They rejected all of the oral law, Talmud, Mishnah, and all of the rabbinic rulings. They believed in a strict reading of and adherence to the Torah text. Relations between the Karaites and the rest of the Jewish world were quite bitter, even violent, for a number of centuries. In some ways the Karaites were seen as worse than Christians.
While we should absolutely NOT accept their beliefs when contrary to rabbinic Judaism, Maimonides taught that the Karaites were worthy of respect. However, when those beliefs coincided, there should be as much cooperation as possible. For example, mohels should circumcise their children. We should help bury their dead and comfort them in their time of mourning. You cannot count a Karaite as part of a minyan – because their own beliefs reject the concept of a minyan. Maimonides saw Karaite belief and practice as bad, but looked for some positives on which to build a relationship, and that began with a belief in one non corporeal God.
I find Maimonides teachings to be useful in creating common sense boundaries within our own community. As an example, someone who has not formally accepted Judaism should not recite the blessing over the Torah. The Hebrew words are very Jewish centric in a spiritual as well as an ethnic way. They assert that Jews have a chosen place in God’s world that is lived by acceptance of Torah. Someone who has not formally accepted Judaism cannot say those words with integrity. However, in all ways that do not cross that theological boundary, everyone in our community should celebrate together, rejoice together, and when appropriate mourn together. There are many rituals that do not depend on a certain theology in which anyone can participate. Examples are the lifting and dressing of the Torah.
So far I have spoken a lot about those who are close to the edge of the Jewish boundary in terms of how to include them. Now I turn to the opposite end of the spectrum, those who are extremely committed Jews, especially among the generation in its twenties. These are the Jews who will really shape whatever future the American Jewish community has. Their engagement in Jewish life is critical, if the institutions that have been the backbone of the Jewish world – synagogues and Federations – are going to have any kind of future. This generation is responsible for an interesting movement that I believe can teach us all a few lessons.
The period from the late 1990’s until now has seen the creation of a large number of independent minyanim. These are semi-formal groups who meet for Jewish services. They have been started by young Jews who are very committed Jewishly, yet disaffected by the synagogue institution. Here is a rundown of the characteristics of these minyanim compiled by Dr. Larry Hoffman of HUC and his organization, Synagogue 3000, in cooperation with Mechon Hadar.
1) They believe they are providing experiences and activities not available in conventional congregations.
2) Their origins are due to either a single entrepreneurial individual (often a rabbi) or a small core of highly educated and motivated individuals.
3) They are doing away with conventional means of membership, or “citizenship” and finding new ways to make ritual and halachic decisions.
4) They stress “authentic” spiritual and educational experiences, giving high priority to fluency in traditional liturgy and finding expressions of deeper meaning in the prayer experience.
5) Participants are less tied to the 20th century ethnic narratives of the foundation of Israel and the Holocaust experience and more tied to the master Jewish narratives of the Exodus and the covenant at Sinai.
6) As such, the Holocaust and founding of Israel are history, not memory.
7) These communities are open to musical and interpretive innovation but prefer traditional liturgical forms – which means a lot of Hebrew is used.
8) Almost none own space. Communication is completely through internet and social media.
9) They use more God language and encourage participants to bring their faith in God into their secular worlds, along with stressing living Jewish values in a non-Jewish world.
10) They tend to be ritually traditional while socially and politically liberal. Even the most ritually traditional are completely egalitarian.
11) Participants, while often raised in a specific movement, are less likely to identify with a particular movement. They are not interested in denomination, but in authentic, deep, Jewish experiences.
Of course these minyanim are located primarily in large cities containing a critical mass of young Jews with a high level of Jewish education and commitment. Yet, it would be wrong to dismiss them as big city anomalies.
Rabbi Elie Kaunfer, a co-founder of one of the first of these minyanim, Hadar in New York, has written a book, “Empowered Judaism,” focusing on what the minyanim can teach us about building spiritually vibrant Jewish communities. One of his most important points is that these minyanim do not have to be seen as competition to normative synagogues. He understands that today, 30 is the new 20. Adults in their 20’s are far less likely to settle into permanent careers than just a couple of decades ago. They are far less likely to marry, have children and enter a routine that would lead to synagogue participation. The participants in today’s minyanim eventually WILL settle into careers, family life and have children – just later than prior generations. They will move to towns such as Tallahassee. These engaged, motivated young Jews can provide the backbone for future Jewish life. As long as we can be a place of authentic Jewish experiences, grounded in an understanding of Jewish law and tradition, that provides Jewish prayer and learning on a level beyond the superficial, we can engage these emergent young Jews. This is no small task for sure!
The Union for Reform Judaism is made up of about 850 congregations. It has a powerfully entrenched set of institutions, with many people vested in their continuation. Our camping system, youth programs, and Israel programs have all been models of success from which others have learned. Hebrew Union College has tremendous potential as center of Jewish learning and spirituality. Yet all of this, including our own congregation, will not survive unless we understand the new world of emergent Jews and adapt.
The first adaptation is to discard our own brand of ideological rigidity. We rightly accuse much of the Orthodox world of this. But Reform Jews have developed their own kind of “orthodoxy,” when they say “Reform congregations would not do (fill in the blank),” or try to cling to a conception of the movement as it was 30 or 40 years ago. We should probably start by realizing the very brand “Reform” has lost its power, along with the brands of “Conservative” and “Reconstructionist.” Here is the interesting paradox. Movement affiliation for our congregation is still very important. We need the resources of a national organization of progressive Jews to help train and motivate our youth. We need to be part of an organization that fosters progressive Jewish thinking as opposed to theological rigidity. At the same time we need to realize that actual movement affiliation becomes more meaningless for individual Jews every year. People are seeking community. People are seeking a meaningful Judaism. Jews are NOT seeking a movement.
That means the second adaptation is to not settle for a Judaism of the lowest common denominator. Yes, as progressive Jews in America we will never be bound by halachah in the same manner as the Orthodox. But, Jewish law has to be part of the equation in making community decisions. Our adult programs need to be filled with meaningful Jewish content. We have to be vigorous in our understanding and teaching of Torah as a living, breathing organism, that younger Jews are hungering to learn and find application in their lives. Our goal has to be a continuous improvement of general Jewish literacy – which means Hebrew, the range of Jewish theology, and an expanding knowledge of Jewish law and traditions in making personal religious choices. Our religious school must always strive to increase the quality of Jewish understanding in our students. As a progressive congregation we cannot and will not dictate personal religious practice. But, we must be sure to provide the means for all Jews to make choices out of knowledge, and not just let them press the “opt out” button because of ignorance.
At the same time, we must NOT make those at the borders of Judaism, whether they are not yet Jewish, or because they are Jews who choose a less traditional path; we must not make them feel there is no home here. They must be firmly inside our tent. This is the hardest challenge we face – to be a place where serious Judaism can take place – yet give space to non-traditional Jews and even those in our community who, while they have affinity for Judaism, are not Jewish.
All of this must start with me. Let me state right now that wherever you are on the Jewish spectrum – at the border but not Jewish all the way to very observant – I cherish your presence in this congregation. Whatever your personal Jewish choices, your being here makes us a better, stronger community. If I have ever made anyone feel outside of the tent, then I deeply apologize.
Because we are, we must be the big tent. We must be that place where all can sit together, have serious discussions yes – have serious disagreements – yes, but all sit together and live together, learn together, celebrate together, mourn together, create a special Jewish community together. The key word of all of this? Together, in Hebrew, beyachad, literally as one.
Psalm 133 is short, only 3 verses long. I bet almost all of you know the first line – Hinei ma tov u’mana’im shevet achim gam yachad. “How good and pleasant it is for brothers to dwell together.” But I also like the 3rd and last verse, “There God ordained blessing and everlasting life.”
May all of us find joy in building and occupying our big tent together. May we enjoy sitting as brothers and sisters – together. May we find blessing in creating a place of everlasting life for our community – our Jewish community, beyachad, together. Kein yehi ratzon!
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged American Judaism, Jewish community | Leave a Comment »
The Jewish Observer 