Categories
Rabbinic Innovation Rabbinic Reflections

Expanding Religious Diversity at Sea: Rabbi Emily Rosenzweig, Lieutenant Commander, US Navy, Serves All Who Serve

The Central Conference of American Rabbis, Reform Judaism’s rabbinic professional leadership organization, is home to more than 2,000 Reform rabbis across North America and beyond. And while Reform rabbis wear many hats, often at the same time—Torah scholar, officiant, pastoral counselor, chaplain, educator, organizational leader, activist—they also work across diverse settings, rapidly changing the shape of the sacred work of the rabbinate with innovative new visions for Jewish communal life.

Here, we share stories of CCAR members who are taking our ancient Jewish traditions and imaginatively and courageously building new programs, practices, collaborations, communities, and transformational approaches to Reform Judaism.

Rabbi Emily Rosenzweig is a Reform rabbi and CCAR member, ordained by HUC-JIR in 2006. After serving Temple Israel in Columbus, Ohio, she began her career in the United States Navy in 2012. She completed Officer Development School and continued at the Naval Chaplaincy School and Center in Fort Jackson, South Carolina.

Today, she is a Lieutenant Commander in the US Navy, currently assigned as an Exchange Chaplain with the British Royal Navy. She is the first non-Christian chaplain to serve full-time in the Royal Navy and is tasked with helping expand religious diversity within the Royal Navy. She spends times on military bases and at sea, serving Jewish Navy personnel and members of other faiths.

Here, Rabbi Rosenzweig discusses her innovative approach to her role as military chaplain.

How do you describe your rabbinate?
While I am employed by the US Navy, I’m currently assigned as the Exchange Chaplain with the British Royal Navy in Portsmouth, England. I often describe my work as being an ambassador: part representative, part translator, part cultural anthropologist, part teacher. When I began my career as a congregational rabbi I was an ambassador for Judaism, for Reform Judaism and its institutions, for our congregation, for the senior rabbi—all depending on my audience. Now, in various circumstances, I represent either the Royal Navy, the US Navy, the military and everyone who has ever served, Americans, America, Jewish people worldwide, Reform/Progressive Judaism, Judaism, or some combination thereof.

 One of the best parts of being on exchange with the British Royal Navy is that I’m able to represent the US Navy at events here in the UK (where there is mostly a US Air Force presence). This past Memorial Day, I offered the invocation and benediction at the Cambridge American Cemetery, a 30-acre site that serves as the burial ground for more than 3800 service members killed during World War II. Among those laid to rest there are four of the crew members of my grandfather’s B-17 bomber who died in a plane crash that my grandfather survived. 

All answers given here are my own and do not necessarily reflect any of the above listed institutions/organizations/ ways of peace.

What guides your rabbinate?
Words that guide me: compassion, humility, connection, humor. The closest I have to a rabbinic motto is the US Navy Chaplain Corps motto: “Called to serve.” I knew I wanted to be a rabbi when I was fifteen. I couldn’t explain my certainty then, and I’m not sure I’ve identified good reasons for it since, but I know it’s what I’m meant to do with my time on earth.

How have you innovated within your rabbinic career?
Much of my current assignment requires innovation, as I am the first non-Christian chaplain to serve full-time in the Royal Navy. For the annual gathering of Royal Navy chaplains, I worked with an Anglican colleague to transform the communal prayer service from the standard Anglican evening worship to one with equal contributions from Jewish and Christian liturgical traditions. While at sea with one of the Royal Navy’s aircraft carriers, I reimagined how a chaplain might lead a gathering during the ship’s “church” time block that could include people of other faith practices and humanist or non-religious members of the crew alongside the regular attendees.

What do people find surprising about your rabbinate?
There are Jews in the (American) military?! The flip side of that question is that people are surprised that I work with all the members of my unit, regardless of faith background.

What is the most rewarding aspect of your rabbinate?
The institution I work for doesn’t rely on me for its continued existence, so I’m able to focus on people—listening, advising, celebrating, teaching, coaching, or otherwise, depending on the day. And there’s good health insurance too.

What excites you about the future of the rabbinate?
Among military leaders, there’s a growing recognition of the importance of spiritual fitness in the resilience and overall readiness of our people. I’m excited to be on the front lines of how chaplains of all faiths can address and engage the universal human spirit in all of our service members and their families; not just to survive a deployment, but to thrive throughout their lives.

Rabbi Rosenzweig has been awarded the Navy and Marine Corps Commendation Medal, the National Defense Service Medal, the Global War on Terrorism Service Medal, and the Navy Recruit Training Service Medal.

Categories
Books CCAR Press Chanukah

Chanukah Is Not a Minor Holiday

There will not be a victory of light over darkness as long as we do not recognize the clear and simple truth that we must enhance the light rather than fight the darkness. —Aaron David Gordon, 1856–1922

“It’s not fair that Jewish kids get eight presents, and we get only one!” grumbled the young American cabdriver, not much more than a child himself, as he drove me to the airport after I told him I was Jewish. I was a bit perplexed, and hesitantly asked him what he was talking about. “Chanukah presents,” he replied as though it were obvious, then looked at me with some suspicion, as though maybe I was not really Jewish. “Eight pres­ents? What is he talking about?” I thought. Growing up in Jerusalem, we received chocolate coins for Chanukah, which is what my husband and I did with our children. And now this cab driver was telling me there is a different Chanukah?

To be sure, Chanukah is a fun, lively holiday in Israel. We light candles with family and community, sing “Maoz Tzur,” and recount the tale of the holiday miracle. The scent of hot, sweet sufganiyot (Israel’s version of jelly doughnuts) drifts from bakeries for weeks before the festival. Walking the streets of Jerusalem at night is a special treat—menorahs of all sizes and shapes illuminate windows and doorposts. Still, the Israeli version of the Festival of Lights is not as central as it is in the United States.

The cabdriver was right. We lived in the US for two years as a family for my final years of rabbinical school, as we wanted to experience progressive, liberal Judaism where it’s in the Jewish mainstream. We quickly learned from our (somewhat frustrated) chil­dren that their friends received valuable presents for Chanukah. Trendy gadgets, rollerblades, and sneakers appeared each day in school. Jewish homes were decorated with colored lights no less impressive than those of their Christmas-celebrating neighbors, and the Jewish schools celebrated Chanukah with great fanfare. The preparations began weeks before Chanukah, reaching their zenith at a gigantic and crowded “Chanukah fair.”

While buying dreidels, gift bags, and glittery decorations (none of which I had previously bought), I realized how the magical feelings evoked by Christmas—especially in children—force Jewish leaders, teachers, and parents to offer an attractive alternative to the majority Christian culture. Chanukah is an excellent test case for examining the influence of the non-Jewish American environment on a Jewish holiday in comparison with its observance in Israel, where Jews are the majority.

One Festival, Many Themes

Jewish festival and holy days have evolved throughout many centuries, and in different eras they were ascribed with new rituals and meaning. Every Jewish holiday has multiple layers; this is especially clear with Chanukah.

This festival entered the Jewish calendar rather late: Like Purim, it does not appear in the Torah, but unlike Purim it was established after the canonization of the Hebrew Bible and is mentioned only briefly in the Mishnah and Talmud. This doesn’t mean there is anything “minor” about this minor festival—its legal discourse may be meager, but it is certainly rich in term of its celebration and themes. There are at least three different themes or narratives for Chanukah.

In the Books of Maccabees, the oldest source for the festival of Chanukah, the main emphasis is the military heroism of the Hasmoneans (a priestly family led by Mattathias and his children, who started the Maccabean Revolt of 167–160 BCE). The Rabbis later deemphasized the military victory and instead celebrated the miracle of a small cruse of oil found in the Temple, which lasted eight days (Babylonian Talmud Shabbat 21b). Divine intervention rather than military victory, became the central theme of the holiday. Many centuries later, with the rise of the Zionist movement, Chanukah became a holiday of prime significance. Zionist leaders regarded the Maccabees’ victory as a model for Jewish sovereignty, and returned their story to the center of Chanukah’s stage.

However, the ancient origin of the festival is probably neither that of a military victory or divine intervention, but instead is a response to the cold and darkness (in the Northern hemisphere). In ancient times, as well as today, the ever-shortening days and growing darkness engendered anxiety. Many cultures observe winter festivals focused on light, warmth, and fire. Today, many Jews relate to the anxiety provoked by darkness and desire for light representing hope.

Our Task Now

One of Chanukah’s main themes is the concept of bayit (home). The Maccabees purified the Temple, which is sometimes referred to as HaBayit (the Home). It is at heart a domestic festival, celebrated primarily at home. Families gather around the menorah’s light, joining in song and eating oily foods. It may be storming outside, but home is a warm and safe shelter we share with beloved people. At least, it used to be so.

Since October 7, 2023, the core concept of home has been shaken for many of us. So many families were brutally attacked in their own homes—murdered, violated, or taken hostage. Many innocent people lost or were forced to leave their homes. This devastating reality forces us to rethink, reimagine, and reestablish the concept of bayit—the haven we all need in an often harsh reality.

This is true not only in Israel and the Middle East: It seems that our global sense of being at home, of feeling safe in the world, has been challenged and contested. During the pandemic, we were confined to our homes, and for many the intimacy of one’s dwelling place became alien and confining. For some, it has yet to return to a place of comfort and safety. In Israel, we are confronted with the ongoing repercussions of the October massacre and war. North American Jews face a staggering rise in antisemitism. Throughout the world, we face political turmoil and environmental uncertainty.

Chanukah reminds us that light still exists. This Chanukah, we are tasked with committing ourselves to make our world a bit better. Of course, this task is not just for the eight days of Chanukah, but for every day.

Like the Maccabees who restored the Temple altar’s purity; like our ancestors who believed that miracles are possible and sought to enable them; like everyone who yearns for light in the ever-growing darkness—may we, too, commit ourselves to creating a sustainable home for ourselves, our children, and all those who need shelter. It’s cold out there, but if we are committed to increasing the light, we can create the warmth and connection our world so desperately needs.

Rabbi Dalia Marx, PhD, is the Rabbi Aaron D. Panken Professor of Liturgy at Hebrew Union College–Jewish Institute of Religion (HUC-JIR) in Jerusalem. She is the chief editor of T’filat HaAdam, the Israeli Reform prayer book (MaRaM, 2020). From Time to Time: Journeys in the Jewish Calendar was first published in Israel in 2018 as Bazman and has been translated into German, Spanish, and now English.

Categories
Books CCAR Press

Author Interview: ‘The Sacred Encounter: Jewish Perspectives on Sexuality’

Rabbi Lisa J. Gruschow is the editor of The Sacred Encounter: Jewish Perspectives on Sexuality from CCAR Press. In this interview, she reflects on the volume’s continued relevance ten years after its publication.

What inspired you to edit The Sacred Encounter: Jewish Perspectives on Sexuality?

Rabbi Hara Person asked me to edit the anthology, and she used a great approach to overcome my initial concern about having enough time to take it on: She told me that women often said no to book projects, and therefore aren’t represented enough, which, of course, pushed me to say yes. More important, though, was that it felt like a significant project and a chance to make a positive contribution while increasing my own understanding.

Was there something new you learned while working on this project?

It was fascinating to me to learn more about the history of our Movement’s approach to sexuality. I came to the Reform Movement when the doors of the movement I grew up in were closed to me because of my sexuality, so to me, Reform Judaism felt like a safe haven. I had always known we stand on the shoulders of giants, but this project really helped me realize how much struggle and sacrifice went into getting us where we are now. And of course, that’s an important insight, because the journey is ongoing, and we still have a responsibility to learn and grow.

What was the most challenging part of editing the book?

There were issues I’d have loved to include that we just couldn’t at the time, and which in retrospect, are glaring omissions. Polyamory, for instance, or asexuality. Other issues, such as premarital sex, I didn’t think required much discussion, but turned out to be a real question for some of the students who have invited me to campus to teach.

The Sacred Encounter was published in 2014. Does the book speak differently to us today? 

It’s hard to believe it’s been ten years. For sure, there are pieces we would include now that weren’t enough on our radar or within our reach ten years ago. But I think the book has kept its importance, both for the historical perspective it gives, and for the wide range of questions and circumstances it covers. As I wrote in the introduction, significant harm has been done to human sexuality in the name of religion, so we have a responsibility to be a force for good on these issues. As much as the world has changed since 2014, there are still teens and adults who are in the closet, and who don’t see a way forward for themselves in Jewish life. If this book makes a difference to one of those people, it’s worth it.

Rabbi Lisa J. Grushcow, DPhil, is the Senior Rabbi at Temple Emanu-El-Beth Sholom in Montreal and the editor of The Sacred Encounter: Jewish Perspectives on Sexuality from CCAR Press.

Categories
Rabbinic Innovation Rabbinic Reflections

Rabbi Evon Yakar’s Innovative, Outdoor Approach to His Rabbinate: Exploring the Nexus Between Recreation and Jewish Life

The Central Conference of American Rabbis, Reform Judaism’s rabbinic professional leadership organization, is home to more than 2,000 Reform rabbis across North America and beyond. And while Reform rabbis wear many hats, often at the same time—Torah scholar, officiant, pastoral counselor, chaplain, educator, organizational leader, activist—they also serve in a wider range of settings, changing the shape of the sacred work of the rabbinate with innovative new visions for Jewish communal life.

We’re proud to share the stories of CCAR members who are taking our ancient Jewish traditions and imaginatively and courageously building new programs, practices, collaborations, communities, and transformational approaches to Reform Judaism. We’re also sharing how, even in dark times, so many CCAR members find joy as rabbis, and we share their hopes for the future of the Reform rabbinate and Reform Judaism.

Rabbi Evon Yakar is a co-founder of the Tahoe Jewish Community, a partnership of Temple Bat Yam in South Lake Tahoe, California and North Tahoe Hebrew Congregation in Tahoe Vista, California, a Jewish community that serves the Northern Sierra Nevada. He shares his innovative, creative approaches to enriching and enhancing Jewish life in the Sierra Nevada region to celebrate “Mountain Judaism,” which often includes taking the story of Esther to the ski slopes or reading Torah from the mountaintops.

What is your unique approach to the rabbinate?

My approach to the rabbinate is to connect Jews and Jewishly-adjacent humans to Jewish life and community. I value the relationships that stitch communities together. As a founder of Tahoe Jewish Community, my rabbinate is often expressed through celebrating the magnificence of Lake Tahoe and the Sierra Nevada Mountains. Our focus is on “recreation as re-creation,” which means we often find ourselves engaging as a community in outdoor recreation—reading a book on the beach, hiking trails with a Torah on our backs and on our lips, or skiing down the slopes as a way of marking Jewish time. It is my firm belief that our Jewish tradition has the potential to enhance our quality of life when we engage with its values, texts, and rituals. So, while my approach to my rabbinate seeks innovative and creative endeavors, it is firmly grounded in our rich past and story. 

 

What is your rabbinic motto or words that guide your rabbinate?

I’m guided by “recreation as re-creation,” celebrating our gem of creation, and co-creation as our path towards a vibrant covenantal community. I also hold tight to Dr. Rob Weinberg’s teaching from the early 2000s that Chadesh Yameinu K’kedem (Lamentations 5:21) is best understood and lived as “Renew our days as we always have.” In other words, we are the authors of the continuing Jewish story.

How have you been innovative in your rabbinate career?

I’m always striving to identify opportunities to be innovative. In Tahoe, I continue to engage in ways to articulate and live what we lovingly call “Mountain Judaism.” This is an expression of living Jewishly in rural mountain communities while linking ourselves firmly to the Jewish story.

Currently, we are in the first few months of founding the Tahoe Jewish Community: Center for Jewish Life in the Northern Sierra Nevada. This is a partnership of Temple Bat Yam in South Lake Tahoe, California and North Tahoe Hebrew Congregation in Tahoe Vista, California. We’re a Jewish community serving the Northern Sierra Nevada. We’re a membership organization which counts its members as synagogues and Jewish organizations. Our founding members, the two Tahoe synagogues of TBY and NTHC work in collaboration, good-faith partnership, and co-creation to share resources, develop best practices for synagogue leadership, and become a resource to future members and similarly situated Jewish community organizations.

Rabbi Alan Rabishaw has been an amazing mentor to me, beginning even before the days we shared the pulpit at Temple Chai in Phoenix. There, we reimagined ways to engage our middle school students and families through a program that connected their post-bet mitzvah years to mature adults in the community to center their Judaism.

I continue to work with Adventure Rabbi: Synagogue without Walls in Boulder, Colorado. With Adventure Rabbi, I developed Adventure Rabbi Kids, an alternative to the mainstream synagogue religious school program. In this program, we innovated around the activities, the content, and the community connections with Jewish youth and families. We developed curricula and lessons around the clear theology Adventure Rabbi holds (see Rabbi Jamie Korngold’s The God Upgrade), tapped into our shared commitment to recreation and being active in the mountains, and understood ways to bind ourselves to the Jewish story.

How has your rabbinate evolved throughout your career?

Wow! My student rabbinate began with a vision of leading wilderness trips for Jewish young adults. Through my HUC-JIR years, I rekindled a love and appreciation for the pulpit and synagogue setting. My first community as an ordained Reform rabbi gave me the chance to experience and work within the mainstream synagogue setting—at Temple Chai in Phoenix—where I was encouraged to be creative and innovative in the youth, young adult and worship spaces. Beginning entrepreneurial work with Adventure Rabbi, while at Temple Chai and continuing into my tenure in Tahoe, opened my eyes, heart, and soul up to the endless possibilities to live the nexus between recreation and Jewish life. 

Now, serving two very small congregations with lots of visitors (as we are tourist destinations), I have evolved in my rabbinate to treasure the opportunity and responsibility to imagine new structures and engagement styles for Jewish community. Becoming a Jewish organizational founder has helped me evolve to gather skills and expertise in collaboration, in treasuring relationships and connections, and build covenantal community through the co-creation model of partnership among and with my community.

What do people find unique, unusual, or surprising about your rabbinate?

People are often surprised to meet the rabbi on the ski lift, on the mountain bike trail, or playing back-up guitar of Hineh Mah Tov for the kindergartner performing at her secular school’s talent show. I’m told that Jews and non-Jews alike are surprised and pleased to spend time with me both at synagogue moments and recreating in the same ways they do personally. I also hear that our embrace of all those willing and wanting to support Jewish community is unequivocal.

What is the most rewarding aspect of your rabbinate?

The trust I feel from my leadership teams, congregations, and communities is the most rewarding aspect of my rabbinate. While creativity and innovation often stresses that trust, so far, we have always been able to lean on that trust and manage the stress points. It is beyond rewarding to have this mutual respect and trust.

What brings you joy in your rabbinate?

My joy is also found skiing powder with more than fifteen young people under the age of sixteen during our Purim in the Powder, gathering for our Sukkot Brisket and Brews Festival, which brings wider the community together in a Jewish context, and having an amazing team of leaders, including my “co,” Rabbi Lauren Ben Shoshan. Another source of joy in my rabbinate is that I have designed my life in ways that my own children treasure their Jewish experience and are able to see the joy on my face and in my heart with the “work” I get to do.

What makes you feel hopeful about the future of the rabbinate?

I am excited to see proofs of concept bear fruit. Our collaboration between our local congregations, now becoming the TJC, continues to inspire folks, visitors and residents alike. I am excited and hopeful that we are developing a unique expression of a thriving Jewish community, Mountain Judaism, which speaks to our heads and our heart. It is truly powerful to continually learn how Judaism is experienced and lived among our congregational members, community, and visitors.

Categories
Israel Rabbinic Reflections

Rosh Chodesh Kislev: Moving Americans Beyond Their Own Narrative on Race as They Seek to Understand Israel

The Reform Israel Rabbinic Cabinet has created a monthly forum where rabbis share their thoughts on teaching and preaching about Israel in the month ahead. For Rosh Chodesh Kislev, Rabbi Yael Dadoun shares her wisdom on moving Americans beyond their own narrative on race as they deepen their understanding of Israel’s and the Jewish people’s beautiful diversity.

I once tried to explain to a colleague that Jews come from diverse backgrounds and that we have the wonderful responsibility to honor those differences by celebrating distinctive rituals and experiences in Judaism. With a flick of the wrist she responded, “Yeah, but we all eat lox and bagels!”

Having grown up in a Moroccan-Tunisian-Israeli household in Connecticut, I only first heard about lox in my sophomore year of high school—and to be honest, lox is still not my preferred bagel topping. For those of you wondering, I’m also not going to spread hummus on my bagel either, but that’s not the point. 

What I wished my colleague would have said was, “Tell me more about your rituals! What do you eat on special occasions?”  

In the last few years, I’ve observed that some Americans assume all Jewish people have an Ashkenazi background. There’s a similar assumption made about Israeli society—that Israelis are all “white” and of European descent. This is one of the reasons Israelis are often called colonizers, implying that Israelis come from foreign backgrounds and are not indigenous to the Holy Land. Thus, when we try to understand what is happening in Israel, we make incorrect parallels between American and Israeli society, superimposing American challenges with race and oppression upon Israel. 

Author and journalist Matti Friedman points to a recurring narrative he sees in the United States. He argues that many Americans are using their image of home to construct their image of Israel. He brings to our attention that some conflate the conflict between Jews and Muslims in the Middle East with American struggles of racism. They peer out into the world making claims about others but are actually looking at a mirror in which they mistakenly see their own unique struggles as the reason for conflicts across the globe—conflicts with their own unique set of circumstances as the root cause. Ultimately, America’s history of slavery, racism, and the struggle of Black communities in America have nothing to do with the history of the Jewish minority in Europe and the Islamic world who fled centuries of death and religious persecution by returning to their historic homeland in Israel. Israelis are diverse, and very real and challenging divisions and separations exist within the society, though for very different historical reasons than American segregation.

In 2019, The New York Times published an op-ed by the respected scholar Michelle Alexander, the author of an important book on incarceration. She described Israel’s conflict with the Palestinians as “one of the great moral challenges of our time,” claiming that Israeli society is guilty of “practices reminiscent of apartheid in South Africa and Jim Crow segregation in the United States.” For Alexander and other American writers, Jews living in the distant Middle East have wrongfully become an embodiment of American racial oppression. Rather than taking time to learn about the complex history of the region, the remarkably diverse background of Jewish Israelis who are over 50 percent Mizrachi and Sephardic (i.e., non-European), and the wide-ranging political beliefs of Israeli society, they seem to fall back on age-old tropes in which Jews are blamed for whatever problems may exist in a given society.  

As American Reform rabbis, we have the incredibly joyful opportunity to showcase how truly diverse Jewish people are, both in our ethnic backgrounds and religious rituals. This perspective can help to counter a simplistic and flawed narrative that paints Jews in the US and Israel as a homogenous group and can elevate the many different voices of our people. Such an approach would go a long way in enriching our American Jewish tradition while more accurately describing Israel’s fervent diversity and culture.

The Reform Israel Rabbinic Cabinet asks that if you choose to respond to this author, you do so only with kavod harav—respect for the rabbi sharing their wisdom, experience, time, and talent.  

Rabbi Yael Dadoun is a rabbi at Temple Mishkan Or in Beachwood, Ohio.

Categories
Books CCAR Press

How Do Psalms Speak to Our Souls?

Rabbi Jade Sank Ross is the author of To You I Call: Psalms Throughout Our Lives from CCAR Press. In this excerpt, she discusses how psalms can be a uniquely valuable companion on our spiritual journeys.

The genesis for this book followed the completion of my rabbinic capstone project. This project—the culmination of my five years of rabbinic study—was, as far as I know, the first of its kind at Hebrew Union College–Jewish Institute of Religion in New York, combining a comprehensive, immersive study of the Book of Psalms with a presentation of an original Hallel—“set of psalms”—selected to be incorporated into a Shacharit (morning) service. The psalms I selected addressed the current moment through text, music, and digital images in the context of prayer.

While working on this project, engaging in the ancient practice of reading daily psalms, I started to see the psalms everywhere: in synagogues, at archaeological sites in Israel, in artwork, and in music. Their texts accompanied me every day. Their words became meaningful in situations when I found myself speechless and searching for words. I found that the psalms respond to human nature in a unique way. The language of the psalms is open enough to allow space for all of us to “come as we are” and to take what we need. The psalms also belong to American society as a whole: they are part of both the Hebrew and the Christian Bible, they appear widely in both our religious and secular culture, and their universal themes of fear, suffering, and rejoicing reach all people. The psalms enable us to access our spirituality at any given moment and in ways that speak to our souls.

As I incorporated psalms into places where I felt the set liturgy did not address contemporary experiences, I realized that a resource connecting the psalms to experiences in our lives, whether on an average day or one with unique pain or joy, would be very useful for the creation of rituals and worship. Additionally, such a book would be a rich spiritual resource for the personal practice of anyone seeking modern connections to our ancient sources. The volume in your hands aims to do exactly that: it pairs our traditional psalms with different moments of our contemporary lives.

My vision is that this volume will make the psalms more accessible and easier to navigate so they can be seamlessly incorporated into formal worship and other moments of personal prayer. This, in turn, will create opportunities to deepen Jewish spirituality, since these psalms accompany anyone on any occasion: at home, in the hospital, by the graveside, while traveling, or during meditation. Finally, this volume and the psalms within it will, I hope, empower you to establish a meaningful, personal prayer practice, whether regularly or occasionally.

To meet the vision I have for this book, it was important to make this book easy to navigate by narrowing down the 150 psalms to 72 (four times eighteen, quadruple chai/life) and dividing the 72 psalms featured here thematically into six broad categories—anticipation, commemoration, despair, gratitude, pain, and relief. Each category is then further divided into specific moments and experiences, such as “Looking Back on a Life-Changing Moment,” “Experiencing a Climate Disaster,” or “While Waiting for Important News.”

As I categorized the psalms, some clearly called to be linked with certain occasions, and then there were additional occasions that in turn called out for psalms. Clearly, by making these decisions, I made assumptions about your emotional responses to particular moments. You might find these inaccurate or one-dimensional. To help guide you toward a psalm that might ring more true for you, I offer suggestions in the footnotes of each psalm to at least one other psalm included in this book. I invite you to look for what you are feeling at any moment—beyond the way I have divided the contents, beyond the specifics of the occasions identified here, includ­ing among the remaining seventy-eight psalms that are not in this book.

The translations in this book are adapted from Songs Ascending by Rabbi Richard N. Levy, published by CCAR Press. Rabbi Levy’s English translations are poetic yet clear and largely preserve the intentions of the original Hebrew. For me, where Songs Ascending really meets the work of To You I Call is not in the unique translations themselves, but rather in Rabbi Levy’s richly spiritual commentary, where he raises questions like “How might this psalm articulate an aspect of our spiritual lives . . . help us celebrate a holiday or another special day? How might it accompany us when we are ill, or visiting someone who is ill? How might it provide comfort when we have lost someone dear to us?” I turned to the psalms because I was looking to answer exactly these questions. What I needed was a concise resource to inspire me. My hope is that the volume in your hands will be exactly this: a resource and a space to see the psalms as poetry, prayer, and song to inspire our spiritual journeys.

The title of this book, To You I Call, is taken from Rabbi Levy’s translation of Psalm 30. It captures the spirit of the psalms and applies to many of the situations and moments included within these pages. I hope it calls to you.

Rabbi Jade Sank Ross currently serves the Community Synagogue in Port Washington, New York. She is the author of To You I Call: Psalms Throughout Our Lives from CCAR Press.

Categories
Israel Rabbinic Reflections

Rosh Chodesh Cheshvan: A Fork in the Road for the Next Generation’s Engagement with Israel

The Reform Israel Rabbinic Cabinet has created a monthly forum where rabbis share their thoughts on teaching and preaching about Israel in the month ahead. For Rosh Chodesh Cheshvan, Rabbi Allie Fischman shares her perspective on teaching and learning about Israel at Reform Jewish summer camps.

We are sitting at a fork in the road in terms of Israel engagement with the next generation of URJ leaders. Overall, we had a fantastic summer at URJ Camp Newman, where I serve as director. We also received multiple emails from Newman alum who are calling upon us to shift our Israel education to “share a more true and wider narrative about the land of Israel, the people of Israel, and the evolution of the current State of Israel.”

Since 2016, we have been working with The iCenter in Chicago to find a model that feels like the holy grail of Israel education in a camp setting (spoiler alert: no one has discovered it yet). How do we teach a “balanced” narrative, as some folks ask for, when we only have two to three hours during a two-week camp session to focus on Israel? How do we teach campers and staff to understand the nuances that young adults can handle? How do we convey the importance of the teachings of the movie Inside Out: that we can hold multiple truths and narratives at once, and feel compassion and love for multiple groups of people at once?  

This summer, we saw a handful of our fifteen- to seventeen-year-old campers and eighteen- to twenty-four-year-old staff members unwilling to embrace the concept of holding multiple truths about Israel. Rather than criticizing the Israeli government’s choices in the war, but still loving the Jewish homeland, they instead choose to forge a Reform Jewish life that simply does not include Israel as a main component. They feel comfortable singing Israeli or Hebrew songs but not ever stepping foot on the land. My heart hurt to speak with these campers and staff members. Israel remains such an important component of my Judaism, and these young future leaders of the Reform Movement want to create Reform Jewish life without Israel. Though this was a small percentage of 175 staff members, their stance reveals a shift from alumni before them. 

We need to come together as a Movement to consider the path ahead for Israel education. Congregations, youth groups, URJ camps, Reform Jewish parents—we could all be stronger together by creating a more unified plan of Israel education across all Reform Jewish platforms. No single religious school, no single camp, no single Reform Jewish parent or mentor should bear the entire weight of teaching our children about Israel and its complexities. I imagine a future where we work together across different areas of engagement to ensure that we teach our young leaders that understanding, holding, and embracing multiple truths and narratives displays strength, humility, empathy, and compassion.  

Though we encountered difficult conversations around Israel from some of these young folks this summer, our URJ camps also provided a vital haven for campers, staff, and faculty across the country. We provided another safe space to come together and be joyfully Jewish. We did everything we could to hold with care and love the hearts and souls of our visiting Israeli staff members and campers. Ultimately, I wonder how and if we can come together as the teachers of our future generations to find ways to teach about the nuances and complexities of Israel, while also passing on the importance of embracing and holding multiple truths. 

The Reform Israel Rabbinic Cabinet asks that if you choose to respond to this author, you do so only with kavod harav—respect for the rabbi sharing their wisdom, experience, time, and talent.  

Rabbi Allie Fischman has served as URJ Camp Newman Associate Camp Director from 2014 to 2018 and as Camp Director since 2018. 

Categories
Inclusion Rabbinic Reflections

Evolving My Position on Jewish Interfaith Marriage

I remember it like it was yesterday. The year was 1987. The place was a classroom at Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion in New York City, and we were having a critical discussion about the question of intermarriage, whether we would officiate and why. My position was adamant. I would only officiate at unions between two Jews. 

I felt that my role as m’sader kiddushin was to create Jewish families. And for the first eight years of my rabbinate, that was my steadfast policy. 

Then, in 1995, a dear friend shared his recent adoption of a new policy regarding intermarriage. If the non-Jewish partner was not actively practicing the religion of their birth, if the couple agreed to spend a year studying Judaism, and they agreed to have Judaism be the only religion in their home, and to rear Jewish children, he would marry them. 

By that time, I had noticed intermarried families in my congregation who were creating amazingly wonderful Jewish homes and whose kids were solid and secure in their Jewish identity and, more often than not, were among the most active teens in my religious school and youth group. 

It was a seminal moment for me. I was all in. My temple leadership, which had only hired me one year earlier, was concerned about my “flip flop,” but I assured them this represented a seachange for me in how I viewed the path to achieving the very same mission I had signed onto years earlier, namely creating Jewish families. The evidence was demonstrating that there was more than one way to achieve that. 

For the next twenty-seven years, I officiated at weddings between two Jews or one Jew and one non-practicing non-Jew who studied and promised to make a Jewish home. As the years went by, I watched with great satisfaction as these families grew and enriched Jewish life for themselves and for our community. Often, the non-Jewish partner became active in temple leadership, and in more than a few cases, eventually formally chose Judaism for themselves. Their kids were incredibly Jewish models for their younger peers, and I no longer heard self-disparaging comments about feeling like “a half-Jew.” 

Then the sea changed again. 

In 2022, a temple kid reached out to me to say she was engaged to be married and wanted her old childhood rabbi to officiate. The kicker? Her fiancé was Hindu and loved being so. 

By the policy I’d held for so many years, I should have said no. In fact, I did say no. But something about this didn’t sit well with me. It had little to do with the couple itself, except that I liked them and probably wanted to make sure this was really what I wanted to tell them, and that the family they would be creating would not fit the model to which I had long ago subscribed. They would have two religions at home and their children would be reared in both. Everything I had learned about such marriages waved the red flag. 

Except for one major, and as it turned out, decisive difference: the world of 2022 had changed greatly from that of 1995. 

Nowadays, there are so many pronounced, ugly divisions across our country, with so much anger and outright hatred flooding our daily lives. Politics have become personal vendettas, and the internet has offered anyone and everyone a nearly uncensored, unhampered platform to amplify and disperse every distorted, uncaring, and even unhinged remark that people “care” to put out there. 

As I thought about the mess we’re all living through, with so much discord pushing people further and further apart, I couldn’t have been more surprised to find myself thinking, “How can I tell this couple, who only want to love each other and share their love with others, that I won’t marry them?” In a world that knows far more callousness and hostility than I can remember, I reached back out to them and said, “Yes, I’ll marry you.” 

And just recently, that’s what I did, with immense gratitude to them for reminding me of the preciousness and virtue of love, that it outshines whatever else we may think is important in our lives. 

Will this couple make a Jewish home? Will they raise Jewish children? Will they secure the future of Jewish life? 

I don’t know. Maybe not. 

But they’ll make a loving home, one in which their children benefit from watching two adults who care about the spiritual paths they’ve chosen for themselves. And while yes, they’ll be raised in two religions, and they’ll have to sort out which religion to choose for themselves, or they’ll create some amalgamation of the two, or they’ll choose no religion at all, I believe with all my heart that something beautiful is going to happen inside that home that is profoundly needed in a world gone crazy. Where it’s become commonplace to see national leaders rip one another apart for the basest of reasons, this home will serve as an incubator for the values of two religions that teach us what is perhaps life’s most important instruction: Be good to one another. 

How can that be a bad thing? 

As I recently observed Elul, which propels us toward the High Holy Days, I found myself thinking about the symbols and rituals of my own religion and the symbols and rituals of other religions. When they do their jobs, their purpose is to prepare us, like Elul, for our upcoming lives. 

These symbols all speak to Judaism’s big plans for them, its grand hopes for their happiness, and its loving reminder of the role they have yet to play in bettering the world around them. Just as Hinduism’s symbols do. And Islam’s symbols. And Christianity’s too. 

And while they may look very different from one religion to the next, their underlying messages are remarkably similar. For this wedding couple, their chuppah symbolizes the protection from life’s storms that they will give to one another. Their kiddush cup symbolizes the bounty of sweetness that they will share with each other. Their rings symbolize the unending promise that they will care for one another. And the glass that they broke symbolizes their leaving behind what has been, and their forging together a new future. 

I love Judaism. And I want it to continue to exist. The world needs it to continue to exist. But in this time of schism and toxic dissent, I love love even more so. And while I will always celebrate when two Jews marry, I won’t ever again stand in the way of two human beings promising to love and care for each other forever. In fact, I will respond to their request for officiation with a wholehearted and grateful, “Yes!” 

Billy Dreskin is Rabbi Emeritus of Woodlands Community Temple in White Plains, New York. These days, he spends most of his time making music, which you can check out at jonahmac.org/billys-music. 

Categories
Books CCAR Press Inclusion

Ushpizot—Don’t Forget the Female Sukkah Guests!

Rabbi Dalia Marx, PhD, is the author of From Time to Time: Journeys in the Jewish Calendar, now available from CCAR Press. In this excerpt, she discusses the tradition of inviting guests to the sukkah and how many families are renewing it today.

A few years ago, we bought a nice new sukkah, on the cloth walls of which are inscribed the names of the ushpizin, the seven historical guests we invite to our sukkah—Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Joseph, Moses, Aaron, and David. I was industrious; I bought a set of permanent markers and added to those seven names the names of women I wanted to greet as ushpizot in my sukkah.

In recent years, an increasing number of women have sought to take a more active part in the Jewish religious experience, and indeed almost all streams of Judaism are now involved with the inclusion of women. As part of those efforts, many people have brought to the fore female role models from the Jewish tradition. We are learning that it is not enough to be engaged only with the figures of our three Patriarchs; we also need to take a deep dive into the figures of the four Matriarchs. When the liturgy includes the Song at the Sea, sung by Moses and the Israelites as they passed through the sea on dry land, some now add the Song of Miriam (Exodus 15:20–21). The purpose of including women is to present female role models (even if they are not always perfect, since the mothers of the nation—like the fathers—were human, with all that entails). In this context, suggestions have been made to add seven female guests to the seven ushpizin invited into the sukkah on Sukkot.

Since this suggestion was first made, it has attracted many supporters; little by little, in many parts of the Jewish world, people have begun to include seven female guests alongside their male counterparts. As opposed to the traditionally established list of the male ushpizin, active choices must be made for the seven ushpizot.

Who are the seven female guests we would like to bring inside the sukkah with us? The need to choose seven ancient female role models has resulted in some interesting answers.

One suggestion was to add the female partner of each of the male ushpizin. Abraham, then, would be joined by Sarah, Isaac by Rebekah, and Jacob by Leah, while Rachel would join her son Joseph; Zipporah would join Moses, Miriam would join her brother Aaron, and with David would come one of his wives (Bathsheba, Michal, or Abigail—with no illusion about that being a fraught decision) or with his great-grandmother, that paragon of faith, Ruth.

Dr. Anat Yisraeli has suggested including the seven female prophets that arose among the people Israel: “‘Seven female prophets [prophesied for Israel].’ Who were these? Sarah, Miriam, Deborah, Hannah, Abigail, Huldah, and Esther” (Babylonian Talmud, M’gillah 14a). Yisraeli ascribes to each of the seven female prophets a beneficent quality and suggests embracing that quality during that day: Sarah had endurance and an ability to protect and shield others. Miriam had vitality and exuberance. Deborah modeled leadership and bravery; Hannah—faith and willpower; Abigail—resourcefulness and mercy; Huldah—powers of prophecy and rebuke; and Esther—self-sacrifice and courage.

Other interesting suggestions have been offered for including the ushpizot, such as that of the Dov Abramson Studio, a Jerusalem graphic design firm, which produced a series of twenty-six posters (and little flags and magnets) of ushpizot from the Bible through today. In this case, it is precisely the absence of women from an ancient tradition that makes it possible to exercise some measure of contemporary creativity. And when we seek to bring our ancient female forebears into traditions we are creating, we are invited to answer some fascinating questions.

Rabbi Dalia Marx, PhD, is the Rabbi Aaron D. Panken Professor of Liturgy at Hebrew Union College–Jewish Institute of Religion (HUC-JIR) in Jerusalem. She is the chief editor of T’filat HaAdam, the Israeli Reform prayer book (MaRaM, 2020). From Time to Time: Journeys in the Jewish Calendar was first published in Israel in 2018 as Bazman and has been translated into German, Spanish, and now English.

Categories
Israel Rabbinic Reflections

‘The Wheat Is Growing Again’: Rabbi Tamir Nir on Communal Spiritual Regrowth After October 7

Rabbi Tamir Nir is an Israeli Reform rabbi and the founder of the Israeli Reform congregation Achva Ba’Kerem in Jerusalem. Here, he shares his hope for regrowth and renewal even in tragic, trying times, and he shares how his Reform congregation, which includes a community garden, has provided a spiritual refuge during the war.

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“It’s not the same old house now; it’s not the same old valley
You’re gone and never can return again.
The path, the boulevard, a skyward eagle tarries…
And yet the wheat still grows again.”

Dorit Tzameret wrote this song after the 1973 Yom Kippur War. In it, she wonders how wheat can grow again after everything has gone and is simultaneously amazed and excited by nature’s regenerative capacity.

This is how I have found encouragement, hope, and motivation since the beginning of the war and even today.

These days, the squill is the only plant that grows and blooms in Israel after a long and dry summer. It emerges from the dry and barren land without leaves or branches, an upright, white, proud inflorescence like the phoenix. It renews itself, like the new year, which comes out of the void, and the moon, which is covered and then shows the ability of renewal.

I founded the Achva Beit HaKerem—a Reform congregation in the Keram community in Jerusalem—in 2007 because I understood the acute need to build communities for secular Israeli urban society. The necessity of fostering identity and belonging and creating frameworks for support and mutual responsibility to build personal and community resilience. We need to achieve political power to make a difference in the neighborhood, the city, and even the country.

The reality in Israel proves that the traditional synagogue is not suitable for most of the Israeli society: Secular Israelis want to contribute and immerse themselves in acts, in tikkun olam.

We built a community garden with the understanding that this is the place where the community can grow. The garden is where trees and vegetables grow, and people create a community. It is a gathering space open to all, without fences or definitions—a synagogue without walls. Since it is an open public space, the garden invites residents from all sectors and genders so everyone can feel welcome and significant.

Our garden calls for an endless and continuing encounter with the cycle of nature. Working in the garden requires faith, even in the simple act of sowing: “Those who sow with tears will reap with Joy” (Psalms 126:1). We need faith that the seed will sprout, grow, and bear fruit. This action encourages faith and hope and a call for action that leads to social action. This act proves our ability to repair and create with nature, with the help of rain and the sun, in partnership with God.

I want to share two new projects that have grown in our community this past summer.

  1. During the war, we started holding carpentry workshops in the garden, focused on repairing old and broken furniture and recycling wood. Here, too, we witness our ability to mend what is broken, despite the brokenness. Many of the participants in the workshops today are reservists who left Gaza, as well as their spouses.
  2. “Beer Garden” has become a regular weekly event lately, attracting hundreds of people. We learned that sitting with neighbors over a glass of beer opens hearts and creates closeness, as well as new interactions between people. Sometimes, it even leads to new initiatives and projects.

“How awesome is this place! This is none other than the abode of God, and that is the gateway to heaven.” Genesis 28:17

The services held in the garden on Shabbat and holidays call us to pause, rest, admire our joint effort, and enjoy “the fruit of our labor.” We connect to each other and God. This profound experience of joining together offers spiritual renewal and strength, which is needed in these difficult days.

In prayer for good days, peace, growth, and peace.

Rabbi Tamir Nir is an ordained Reform rabbi who serves as the congregational rabbi for Congregation Achva Ba’Kerem, which he founded in 2007. Rabbi Nir teaches Jewish and Islamic thought in a high school for religious and secular Israelis. He recently served as Deputy Mayor of Jerusalem, where he bridged differences between the many diverse communities that make up the city, as the head of the BINA Secular Yeshiva, and as chair of the Heschel Center for Sustainability. He has an MA in Jewish Education and a BA in Architecture and Urban Planning.