Jewish high holiday sermons

 The local synagogue has a student rabbi for the HHD, like the synagogue I attended growing up. The first year, I thought the guy was just okay, but I really like the guy who came the second year. He was supposed to return for a second year, but he is have some undiagnosable health problem, so he couldn't come to GF for the HHD. Instead, we had a sub - the chief chaplain at the Minneapolis VA. I had low expectations, but he was terrific.

He said on Erev RH that his sermons would be on the theme of rn - the text shortcut for Right Now. In this case, meaning there are things we should be changing and addressing right now. Also, the themes for each of the 4 sermons would be a word that started with R and ended with N.

The four sermons: reflection, rebellion, retraction, refraction.

I know, sounds obscure. But, so great!

Reflection is kind of obvious. Rebellion (which I actually missed) was about saying NO when needed.

Retraction was about getting stuck - he told a story about his daughter's seatbelt getting stuck and it won't come out and won't retract. We find ourselves in that situation sometimes, where we can't seem to go forward, but we can't go back either.

But the final one! He started by talking about how the equinox is not really equal light and dark (12 hours of each) - because of the way light refracts, we actually get a few more minutes of light on the equinox (which means equal night). He also mentioned that the true equal light and dark day is called the equilux (equal light).

Anyway, his point was THE LIGHT GETS THERE FIRST. It's physics, but it's also metaphysics: we experience the kindness, the light, even the smallest bit, first and most. That's the takeaway message: do whatever you can to make the world a little better, because every tiny beam of lightness arrives and lands and lightens.

Forgiveness

 The synagogue here gets a student rabbi each year and I really like the guy this year. I went to tashlich this afternoon and he said that he likes keeping a little piece of bread back for any transgressions you have not overcome. I had again (same as HHD last year) been thinking about how I cannot seem to forgive Larry. So I kept back a piece of bread for that. Maybe next year.

Generation gap

The president's editorial in the bulletin struck an interesting tone this month, and I must admit that I found it a rather odd message to give to parents. She basically suggested that they force their kids to participate in temple activities.  

One of the most formative Jewish experiences I had was at a meeting at Hillel at Temple University. Of course I didn't grow up in a temple youth group and didn't go to Jewish summer camp, etc, etc. (I pursued Judaism as an adult, mainly through attending worship services, and feminist seders, with Jewish friends.)  So I'm sitting in this meeting and everyone there, almost to a person, is expressing their alienation with the synagogue experience of their youth, where everyone was more concerned with what other congregants were wearing, rather than what kind of spiritual experience they were having.

Fast forward a couple of decades. Now I belong to a synagogue, even sit on the board, and the leadership is complaining because my generation (represented by those alienated Hillel students) is not raising their children the same (misguided!) way that they were raised.

My question for the leadership is this: wouldn't it be better to put your efforts into making temple activities appealing to the children in our community, so that no forcing would be necessary? Wouldn't it be better to tell parents that we are working very hard to ensure that their kids will have a different experience than the one you had as a child, because we want the temple to be a place where the children in our community feel welcome, accepted, and engaged? That Judaism is worthwhile because it's deep and beautiful and meaningful for all ages, not that it's something you must suffer through now, in the hope that you will later come to appreciate its value.

While there have been many changes in American Judaism in the last few decades, clearly there is still a major disconnect between the goals and perceptions of the current leadership and the goals and perceptions of the (younger) congregants.  That gap is where much of my dissatisfaction resides, and my own frustration with the experience of board, where the decisions and influence still reside in a small clique of people (but that's another entry entirely).

"Judaism is not for kids"

IF SOMEONE WANTS TO CUT AND PASTE THIS INTO AN EMAIL, AND SEND IT FAR AND WIDE, FEEL FREE.

Pretty much totally disgusted by the 7th grade service this morning because, despite repeated feedback, the kids just sit there and listen while the adults conduct the service, which is boring for them and for the parents. The leadership thinks it counts as "participation" because the kids can keep up with the book and know the songs and prayers. #unclearontheconcept   The kids could, and more importantly, should be leading at least some of the selections, and at the very least, should get to pick readings, and/or tunes to songs. It's so easy to involve them in a minimal way.  Of course it would be even better to fully involve them, and really let them own the service, but that is just completely outside the comprehension of the leadership (even though my friends and I have brought this to their attention more than once). This is not my only complaint about my religious experience but if they fixed that, it would go a long way towards changing the whole atmosphere at the synagogue.

Even more bizarre than this archaically run event, was the rabbinical aide stating at one point toward the end that "Judaism is not for kids." I actually think I understand what he means - that it's mystical and complex and requires sophistication. But to say that aloud AT a service which includes kids, which is ostensibly a "kids' service" is distinctly odd and tone deaf.

Being the Chosen People

Had a conversation about the Jews being the Chosen People in our class today.  I have two main problems with this - one is that it has caused problems for Jews for hundreds of years, and the other is that I find the concept counter to my most cherished values of humanism and tolerance.

The rabbi suggested that by choosing Judaism, you are, by definition, rejecting everything else.  But  I don't really relate to Judaism as something that I've chosen, it's just something I am, like being female and being white.

He also said that he feels like his choice of Judaism is based on finding "some truth in it," which I thought about quite a bit. I'm not looking for truth. Not in religion, not in life.  I genuinely don't believe there is any truth in religion, or rather, there are many truths, not just one single truth that can be determined or found. Instead of truth, I'm looking for MEANING, which is not the same thing at all.

Rage, outrage and other Jewish topics

Weird Lunch and Learn today.  Rabbi F had sent a couple of news reports about how the International Olympic Committee had rejected a request for a minute of silence for the Israeli athletes slain in Munich (it's the 40th anniversary this year).  This request had come from 2 of the widows of those athletes. Several of my Jewish FB friends had posted about this, so it's not just an Israeli issue - plenty of American Jews are hot about it.

There were 10 people at the discussion, plus the 2 rabbis, and of course several people said nothing, but the consensus seemed to be a collective shrug - what's the "big deal," why are we "crying" about this? I was so taken aback.  This group of older, mostly male, Jews usually goes to the mattress for anything having to do with Israel, but they didn't seem to care.  One guy (who totally dominated the conversation) even said, "well I suppose this matters to the families"- implying that it doesn't matter to anyone else.

I don't think you're going to change anyone's mind with a minute of silence (another point raised), but that's not really the reason for memorials anyway. I don't go to lots of sporting events, but they seem to be an endless stream of recognitions for one thing and another.  A minute of silence to mark the anniversary of something terrible doesn't seem outside the normal course of activities. You'd think this crowd would be a bit more put off by the IOC's apathy. Not at all.

Then we somehow got onto Penn State and Joe Paterno, I guess because they're both related to getting outraged over bad things happening, and this same guy, Mike, was so dismissive, something about "people always going to DEFCON 5 over everything." I got really pissed and said some crap about a special level of hell reserved for people who don't protect kids.  I don't know what Mike thinks warrants going to "DEFCON 5" (though that's really the lowest level -  DEFCON 1 is the highest level; this is a mistake almost everyone seems to make), but I would think turning a blind eye to a colleague raping 10 year olds down the hall over the course of several years should get you close, regardless of how many football games he had won for the organization.  


Bottom line for me was the appalling lack of moral compass displayed by virtually everyone in the discussion, between dismissing the most outrageous things as not worth bothering about on the one hand, and the general acceptance of vengeful murder on the other hand (we discussed the movie Munich too), I was thoroughly repulsed for the entire hour (one generally dove-ish member even went to lengths to explain that while murder for revenge, a la Munich, is hard to justify, assasinating Iranian nuclear scientists is completely justified - the mind boggles).  Though Rabbi P made several comments suggesting that our collective conclusions were not generally "Jewish" (citing several Biblical examples), there was otherwise not a single voice for universal (let alone Jewish) ethics in the room.  Ick!!!


I saw this on FB when I got back to my office after the meeting - how fitting!!

Principles over people

There was a small crowd at the monthly Lunch and Learn meeting today, as there often is when the date is changed. We were supposed to be discussing the 10 commandments (it's Shavuot this weekend), but of course there was little enthusiasm for this. The conversation morphed into a discussion of saying "no" to requests that aren't "Jewish," and I got off on a minor rant, because this is a huge pet peeve of mine.  As I said to the group, we reject people who are trying to participate in the community by saying what they're doing isn't "Jewish" enough, but much more often than not, whatever they want to do becomes completely acceptable 5 years, or 5 months, later.  Because Judaism keeps evolving and changing and accommodating modernity, what is unacceptable one minute becomes standard practice the next. The example that arose early in the conversation was a family who wanted to bury their child in the family plot in the Jewish cemetery, but wasn't allowed because, actually I forgot why, but it doesn't matter.  When their request was denied, they got upset and left the synagogue.  What possible difference could it make in a whole cemetery to have one grave filled with a not-quite-totally Jewish child?  I made the point that we seem to always pick "principles" over people, but then the principle changes and the rejection those people received becomes moot.  But they've already been alienated, along with their children, and their children's children.  And I also pointed out that we cry and gnash our teeth about shrinking memberships, but at the same time, we keep rejecting people who want to belong to the community, often for reasons that matter to only a few people. I understand that each rabbi feels they must protect Judaism - as Rabbi Pepperstone said, "We want to open the door, but not too wide!"  But I still come back to wondering why we insult people who want to embrace Judaism, all because they're not doing it "right."  Maybe we could open that door as wide as possible and then try to educate and shape the experience of those who walk through it.

My D'var

The final activity in the adult b'nai mitzvah class was an assignment to write a d'var, which is an interpretive commentary on (usually) the weekly Torah reading.  We were allowed to pick any passage we wanted, so of course I went directly to Leviticus, my favorite book of the bible.  Although most of the students did not take the opportunity to read their dvar aloud in class, I did, and surprised myself by getting a bit choked up in the middle.

Parsha: Acharei Mot ("after death," referring to the death of Aaron's two sons)

Leviticus 16:1 to 18:30
 

The Torah is full of instructions. Some of these are relatively easy to understand and interpret: thou shalt not kill, keep the Sabbath, protect widows and orphans.  Others are harder to understand and harder to interpret. Nothing in the Torah has been more challenging to me than Leviticus Chapter 18. Most people know this chapter because it includes the admonition “do not lie with a man as with a woman,” but that’s at the end of the chapter, verse 22.  The first 21 verses represent a fairly detailed list of other sexual restrictions, including relations with “your” daughter-in-law, “your” aunt, and “your” step-daughter.  However, the list does not include “your” daughter.  Nowhere in this section of Leviticus, or in Chapter 20, which also lists several forbidden sexual relationships (as well as their appropriate punishments), is sex with your daughter specifically mentioned, let alone specifically prohibited. The Talmud suggests that the prohibition against father-daughter incest is already understood to be forbidden, so there was no reason to include it.  Some commentators have even suggested that “daughter” was left off the list accidentally, and represents basically a printer’s error that was then carried forward until the present time.  Of course, it’s impossible to know if this omission is a mistake or deliberate. Either way, it causes me, causes all of us, to ponder the meaning of this passage.  And to ponder the value of instructions in the Torah.  Do they apply to us today?  Can we find ways to apply them, to find meaning in them, even if they offend our modern day sensibilities?  Can we simply overlook the passages that cause us concern, that make us upset or angry or shocked or afraid?  It’s troubling, and it’s confusing.  Of course, many passages of the Torah are vague, and have required extensive examination and contemplation.   But I would argue that this odd omission requires more reflection than rules about what we eat or what we wear.  What do we take from this? How do we come to terms with this, and find meaning in it?  How do we protect our daughters, and ourselves, when our book of rules overlooks such a fundamental danger?  It requires a level of engagement that may be intimidating or even uncomfortable.  But this is the privilege of Judaism, and the burden of it – to continue to wrestle with the meaning of our heritage.

Theocracy in Israel

Pretty disturbing assessment of the trend in Israel.

National-religious messianism is endangering Israel
By Carlo Strenger

Every month I drive to Bar-Ilan University to tape four or five discussions with national-Religious Rabbi Uri Sherki that are posted under the title “The Rabbi and the Professor” (unfortunately there are no English subtitles so far). I do this because I believe that there is desperate need for dialogue between Israel’s liberals and the national-religious. We have come to the point where we live in universes so different that it is becoming questionable how these groups can ever cooperate fruitfully for a common future.

Sherki is adamant that the West Bank is part of Israel on theological grounds, and he does not believe that the Palestinians living there should have political rights. He always insists that Jewish law has a solution for this: the category of Ger Toshav, a resident alien, makes sure, he says, that they will have full human rights, but no political rights.

These discussions have been going on for a year now; I have, time and again, told him that his long-term vision for the greater land of Israel is an elegant way of describing an apartheid system. His general reaction is that I am stereotyping him. If I tell him that the idea of an ethnic group that does not have political rights is pretty much the definition of apartheid, I generally receive no answer. This is particularly frightening because Rabbi Sherki is mild-mannered and cultivated; in addition to his Rabbinical training, he has a wide secular knowledge, so there is no way of attributing his position to ignorance or lack of culture.

Rabbi Sherki also has an utterly unrealistic view on Israel’s relation to the West: he argues that the West criticizes Israel because it does not take its role of being humanity’s moral beacon seriously. When I ask him what this means, he answers that Zionism has only fully come into its own after what he calls the liberation of Judea and Samaria; and that we need to stop apologizing for this, because the Jewish people will be able to fulfill its historic function: From Zion the teaching shall spread!

When I tell Rabbi Sherki that I happen to speak quite a bit to European politicians, diplomats, journalists and academics; that they in no way feel that Israel should have some special role in the world, but have a much more modest demand: that it adhere to international law, respect Palestinian rights and end the occupation, he tells me that I simply don’t understand the Christian unconscious. No facts will confuse his mind.

Sherki is by no means among the more extreme rabbis of the national-religious camp. And yet there are moments in which he expresses visceral hatred for Arabs, and a degree of disdain for secular Israelis that is breathtaking: a few months ago he said that women working in offices in secular Israel are required to dress like whores.

These are moments when I lose my temper: I told him that he must immediately apologize; that I find it unbelievable that he can offend the majority of Israel’s society with such impunity – and that this also betrays his total isolation from the outside world. I asked him when the last time he visited anything like a hospital or a law firm was, and told him that he obviously lives in a universe parallel to mine.

Beyond the outrage and the disbelief, Sherki’s views profoundly worry me. He has a large followership; many attend his courses throughout the country, and he plays a leading role in one of Jerusalem’s major Yeshivas. Men like him raise a generation of students to believe that the Jewish people indeed has the right to trample the rights of others; who think that the rest of the world should simply bow to the precepts of the Torah as they see it. They are also deeply convinced that their interpretation of Judaism has a monopoly: Sherki forcefully argued against the recent ruling that conservative and reform Rabbis should be paid by the state of Israel.

People like Rabbi Sherki must be taken deeply seriously: The national religious vision has decisively shaped Israel’s history. Their project of settling in the West Bank with the goal of annexing it to Israel has decisively shaped Israel’s history for more than forty years. Their unrelenting ideological and religious conviction that the Jewish people has an eternal right to the West Bank has made them utterly blind to the moral and political disaster that the occupation has become.

In my view the greatest tragedy of national-religious Zionism is its profound misunderstanding of its own nature: it believes that it is profoundly Jewish. But as I have argued together with Professor of Jewish Philosophy Menachem Lorberbaum national-religious Zionism has adopted the language of 19th century political romanticism with its idealization of peoplehood and its connection to the land. This political view has, as we know all too well, led to disastrous consequences in European history, particularly when it was combined with a messianic conception of redeeming a specific nation or humankind as a whole.

I often try to show Rabbi Sherki to what extent the national-religious vision is a rehash of the disaster of romantic political philosophy. But, like all those who believe that they have seen the one, great truth, he refuses to see that politics must never be romanticized, and that all messianic conceptions of politics end in catastrophe.

That Israel has succeeded in remaining a liberal democracy despite having lived under threat for most of its existence is one of this country’s most remarkable achievements. But since 1974 almost no Israeli politician has risked open conflict with the national religious movement that is doing everything to undermine this democracy. Yitzhak Rabin did so by initiating the Oslo process; he paid with his life for it – and polls have shown that more than sixty percent of national-religious Jews in Israel are in favor of pardoning Rabin’s murderer, Yigal Amir, whose brother was released from prison a month ago.

Now Israel’s democracy is facing possibly the greatest threat in its history: many leaders of the national-religious movement say explicitly that Israeli democracy is no longer necessary and that the country must become a theocracy. It is time for the majority of Israelis, secular or religious, who think otherwise to take action before it is too late.

Tattoo meaning

A few people have asked me about the meaning of my tattoo, and while I haven't gone into a long explanation about it, there actually is a long explanation behind it:

1. I wanted another tattoo
2. We were going to Israel, where tattoos are popular and providers are highly regulated
3. I wanted a tattoo of Hebrew letters
3a. Something short and sweet
3b. To proclaim my Jewishness
3c. To capture my feelings about being Jewish

I decided on sh'ma because it's short, very central to Judaism (the first word in the most important prayer in Judaism), it has a very important English/secular meaning - "listen," and the letters are pretty - shin, mem, ayin.

I decided on my right wrist because I wanted a very visible location and because of Psalm 137:5 (written after the Jews were expelled from Zion) ~ "If I forget Jerusalem, may my right hand forget it's cunning" (which is the King James translation; it's also translated as "may my right hand whither") - additionally referencing my commitment to both Judaism and Israel.

Lobby Day

Gorgeous sunny day, but windy and rather chilly:



Barry and I in the Canon Office Building, before meeting with an aide of Congressman Higgins (Buffalo):

Gala Dinner, J Street Conference final night

The table was gorgeous, decorated with cherry blossoms, and you gotta love getting dessert first (if you want it):



Former (and frankly, disgraced) Israel Prime Minister, Ehud Olmert, was the final speaker of the night:

J Street Conference

The conference is really intense, with sessions packed into the schedule back to back.  There's no time to take a break during the day, but I'm walking 6 blocks between my hotel and the conference center in the mornings and evenings, and spring is springing so beautifully in D.C.:



Probably my favorite session was this terrific movie, My So-Called Enemy, and the film maker, Lisa Gossels, who introduced the film and answered questions afterward.  Unfortunately, it's pretty expensive to bring the film for a showing, so I don't think our brand new Syracuse chapter will be able to host her any time soon unless we can find some co-sponsors for it:



Rabbi Donniel Hartman, who runs an education and research institute in Israel (founded by his father, David Hartman), was one of my favorite speakers:

Opening night, J Street Conference

Amos Oz greatly influenced my Jewish identity when I heard him speak in the early 1980s, and now he influences my Jewish political sensibility in the early 21st century:



‎"There is more than one way to be a good Jew and to be a good Zionist and to be pro-Israel."

"The patient is ready for surgery, but the doctors are cowards."

"Compromise has been treated like a bad word, but the opposite of compromise is fanaticism and death."

"My slogan has been make peace, not love - nations make peace with clenched teeth, and then, gradually, over generations, the hard feelings diminish."

"There are two resolutions of a tragedy: In a Shakespearean tragedy, the stage may be littered with bodies but justice has prevailed. In a tragedy by the Russian writer Anton Chekhov, everyone is brokenhearted, embittered, disappointed, sad, and disillusioned – but they remain alive."

And a bunch of other great stuff. He has such a way with words.

"The Future of Pro-Israel"

I had to think about it for quite awhile, but after the trip, I was finally able to make a statement for J Street's campaign:

I am the future of pro-Israel because . . . I am the future of American Judaism, and Israel cannot exist without the love and support of Diaspora Jews. My passion for Israel as a Jewish homeland and a democratic nation begets the commitment of my children, and eventually their children, and so on and so on.

Israel trip - random

A few more of my favorite photos~

Spring in Jerusalem:

"Coffee this way" in Jerusalem:

Dinner at Cafe Paradiso, first night in Jerusalem:

Entering Yad Vashem:

Scenic overlook at Yad Yashem:

Bedouin settlement, east of Jerusalem:

View of Dead Sea from Masada:

"Jordan river is deep and wide" (at least it was until they built a dam):

Golan Heights winery - bottling plant:

Bahai gardens and dome in Haifa:

Looking west from the Golan Heights:

Waves crashing at Caesarea:

Peace garden at Yardenit:

Waiting to start Masada tour:

Israel trip - heading home

Wake up call at the ungodly hour of 3:30 am, but the hotel concierge brought us juice, coffee and cookies to help.  Quick drive to the airport and then the waiting began - we had to take our check bags through security:


We couldn't find breakfast at the airport, so the kids had burgers from Burger Ranch and Bobbie had a tuna sandwich from a coffee kiosk (I ate a now stale GF bagel that I had brought along).  Our travails were rewarded - we finally got to sit in Business class on our first leg, to London.  Breakfast tasted especially delicious with all that extra leg room.

But during the second, longer leg, we were back in Economy, and it felt extra bitter after our brief experience of luxury.  We weren't even sitting together, and the man next to me would not trade seats with Larry - a rare case of someone immune his charm.

We blearily unloaded at JFK into a brutally long customs line.  After about half an hour, a harassed looking clerk called for US passport holders and we walked around the line, which was even longer than we had initially realized.  We ended up at this window, which I found hilarious:



Then we met our airport van driver, Steve, who was as delightful as we remembered.  Most of us crashed out immediately, after over 20 hours of travel:

We all went right to bed when we got back to NJ, 23 hours after we woke up in Tel Aviv, and we awoke relatively refreshed on Friday.  We loaded up Larry's car and headed back to Syracuse; Matt left right behind us, on his way back to school.

Israel trip, Day 6

We started out with a stop in Nazareth, for a tour of the Church of the Annunciation, built on the (supposed) spot where Mary Magdalene was born.  (The kids and I skipped the tour and walked down the main street, doing a bit of shopping.)  The tour guide talked about the solar water heaters, on the roof of every residential building in Israel:

Then we drove through Haifa, taking in the view from above the Bahai gardens. 


 



We had lunch at a Druize restaurant just outside Haifa:

Then wandered through the ruins at Caesarea (it was insanely windy, but most of us persevered, only Larry and Alana stayed in the bus). 


 



Then down the coast highway to Tel Aviv. Wonderful end to our final day - dinner at the home of lovely friends in Ramat Aviv, the parents of our 2011 scout, Yael - Avi and Varda:

Israel trip, Day 5

First stop was Israel's center of mysticism - Tzfat. We spent a few minutes at the Kabbalah center and then went to a candle factory store and heard a brief presentation about their techniques. 

Then we wandered through the main shopping area and bought, among other things, both Caleb and I gorgeous tallits at a beautiful art gallery (mother-son theme: pomegranates). Alana made friends with a local cat named Johnny:


 



Then we stopped for lunch at Kibbutz Gadot:

Next we drove up (up up) to a monument to the 1973 Yom Kippur war on a high peak of the Golan Heights. 


 



Final stop was the Golan Heights winery, where we took a tour and tasted several wines:

Matthew Newmeyer bought a delicious Pinot Noir which we had with dinner:

 

We just had enough time for another visit to the spa before we met the group. We went to the lake front and watched a very cool water and light show, illustrating the history of Tiberias.  Then we had dinner at a lake side restaurant, where everyone ate whole fried local fish ("St Peter's fish") and enjoyed fresh dates for dessert:

We had a few minutes to walk along the boardwalk and buy ice cream (gelato) and other treats, and then it was back to the hotel to pack up for our final move, to Tel Aviv.

Israel trip, Day 4

Another packed day - up early for our trip north. Sad to leave Jerusalem - so much we didn't get to see and do, but onward! 


Drove through the Jordan Valley - I was super impressed with all the farming - dates, bananas, tomatoes, wine grapes and more, on a huge scale. 


 



We stopped at a nice little rest area, where we bought coffees and lemonades and frantically used the WiFi while we had the chance.  Alana posed for this photo:


 



Most of the trip was a journey through history! Stopped in Beit Shean (Scythopolis), an ancient city destroyed by an earthquake in 739 AD (CE) and just excavated in the 1980s; the site is managed by the Ministry of Tourism.


 



Stopped at Yardenit, a baptism site at the mouth of the Jordan river:

 



Then to Capernaum, a city at the north end of the Kinneret where Jesus first preached - gorgeous church there, built in the 1960s, and wonderful Byzantine-era synagogue:


 



Then we drove to our hotel in Tiberias, on the western shore of the Kinneret:

 



Our hotel was across the street from a mineral spa and entry is free to hotel guests, so we went and had a soak before dinner. Heaven! Huge group of American students there, finishing up their 10 day Birthright trip. We had dinner in the hotel tonight (the only dinner included in our tour).