Categories
Passover Pesach

The Ivrim: Holding Time and Tension in Perfect Balance

This week, we mark our final days in Egypt. For generations, we have languished in slavery, served our masters from the narrow confines of our chains. We have built, heaved, sweat, and cried – bled, birthed, pushed, and died all in a land that is not our land, for a king who is not our king. Stifled, oppressed – this is our people’s story of alienation, of being the stranger.

But, this week, though our bodies are still ensnared, our eyes are set on revelatory fire. There is something new in the air. Freedom is coming. This week is the last week of our captivity. In these final days leading up to Pesach, we step into the project of our redemption – a seemingly unending march to the land of our promise.

There’s a paradox here. Every year we leave Mitzrayim, we leave Egypt, and every year we find ourselves back there again. Where was your Mitzrayim, your narrow place, last year? By what or by whom are you held captive this year? Back and forth – and forever in between.

This is the story, the very essence of our people. We live in tension, in movement. From the narrow confines of slavery, toward the land of our redemption – from the darkness of exile to the blinding light of revelation. Most of the time we are betwixt and between.

We are the the Hebrews, the Ivrim.  The word Ivrim comes from the root ayin, bet, resh, which means to cross over. The very name informs us that we are in constant motion, unending transformation, and enduring transition. We are named for this tension, this unending march toward a more just, a more righteous reality.

As Ivrim, we are called to move across borders and boundaries, across time and space – called to relive a collective past and a shared memory in every act of ritual, in every reading of text, and in every moment of prayer. We are an unending past and revelatory future – a collection of movements, words, and memories transmitted from the murky depths of creation passed down to us in the accents of our great-grandparents.

When I think about crossing boundaries, about breaking free from captivity, I think about my great-grandfather, Nathan Chanin. Nathan came to America at the turn of the century after serving an eight year sentence in Siberia for his revolutionary activities. He was a leader of the Jewish Labor movement, a prominent union organizer, and well-known educator.  He worked for the  Workmen’s Circle for over 15 years, serving as both the organization’s Education Director and Secretary General.

Nathan’s passion for the Yiddish language, his unceasing pursuit of justice, and his love of Yiddishkeit have flowed down through the generations of my family, spilling over into our religious, political, and cultural identities. It is at this time of year, this time of exodus, of liberation, and of transition, that I am most reminded of Nathan’s legacy.  Every Pesach, my family narrates, sings, and celebrates the story of our redemption in Yiddish. From the perfectly pronounced story of the four sons, each voiced by my mother and her siblings, to my broken and heavily accented four-questions — we speak a more just future into being through the language of our past.

In addition to the Yiddish of our past, my cousins and I add supplementary texts, prayers, and music to our family seder. Every year, we bring new words that have moved us, songs that have inspired us, and rituals that have transformed us. We bring in Leonard Baskin’s drawings from the CCAR’s Passover Haggadah and the ritual of Miriam’s Cup and the gender-inclusive language of The Open Door. Our Seder is two moments in time at once – multiple voices held together in perfect tension.

This blend of past and future, of Nathan’s secular Yiddishkeit with the current longings and passions of his great-grandchildren have taught me that perhaps freedom and redemption come not as the result of a long march or entering a promised land, but are cultivated and honed over time in our ability to move in and out of the boundaries and to live as Ivrim, in constant transformation.

At the end of his novel “Go Tell It on the Mountain,” James Baldwin imagines a moment of unending revelation and redemption that stands in perpetual tension. He writes:

“No power could hold this army back, no water disperse them, no fire consume them. One day they would compel the earth to heave upward and surrender the waiting dead. They sang where the darkness gathered, where the lion waited, where the fire cried and where blood ran down. They wandered in the valley forever, and they smote the rock forever. And the waters sprang perpetually, in the perpetual desert. They cried unto the Lord forever and lifted up their eyes forever. They were cast down forever, and the Lord lifted them up forever.”

Revelation, Baldwin says, happens in tension – in the unending march toward freedom.

As we embark once more from the confines of Mitzrayim, our narrow places, I would like to offer you the opportunity to fully embody the identity of the Ivrim, the boundary crosser. From Egypt to revelation, from the promised land to exile — we are blessed with the ability to find redemption and freedom in moments of unending tension.
May this blessing be available to each of us.

—

Hilly is a second-year rabbinical student at HUC-JIR in NYC. Originally from New York, Hilly has a Masters of Theological Study from Harvard Divinity School and has worked in temples from Boston to Boulder.  Hilly is also a rabbinic intern at the Central Conference of American Rabbis.

Categories
News Passover Pesach

Dayenu: Enough is Enough

If the Passover seder had an anthem, my vote would be for Dayenu– the jubilant, infectious melody responsible for resuscitating seders everywhere, year in and year out.  Dayenu wakes us out of our seder stupors and inexplicably inspires all to join their voices in song: “Dai-dai-yenu, Dai-dai-yenu, Dai-dai-yenu, Dayenu, Dayenu!!!”

Dayenu—it would have been enough had God only delivered us from slavery, but God did more.  Dayenu—it would have been enough had God only given us Shabbat, but God gave more.  Dayenu—it would have been enough had God only bestowed upon us Torah, but God bestowed more.

When I reflect on Dayenu today, I struggle, because I see not enough emphasis on “enough” and too much emphasis on “more.”  What does “Dayenu” mean in a world where bigger is (usually) better and more is (often) what we are looking for?  How do we understand Dayenu in a society that prizes conspicuous consumption and fetishizes acquisition in every medium imaginable?  When we are conditioned to believe that more stuff and more riches and more power will lead to a happier life, how do we even begin to set limits and embrace moderation? How do we adopt the idea of “Dayenu,” or “just enough” in a society that can never seem to get enough (accolades, money, power, status, etc.)?

And what does “enough” mean in a world where our children are asked to be everything to everyone–studious, sporty, intellectually curious, musical, artistic, socially conscious, tech savvy, and how about entrepreneurial?  We want them to master a sport (or two or three), a language (or two or three), an instrument (or two or three) and a hobby (or two or three).  But we also want them to be well mannered, concerned for others, deeply connected to their friends and community, and passionate (and if that passion can be parlayed into a career, even better).  We cannot bear to waste the potential we see in them; we cannot bear to have them miss out on any opportunities availed to them.  We desperately want the best for them and we want them to be their best.

But when and where in this scenario do we say “Dayenu”—he is doing enough or Dayenu, she has enough on her plate?  When do we say “Dayenu,” this schedule is woefully too busy for a young adult and much too hectic for a child?  At what point do we say, “Dayenu” too much of a good thing is not good?  On the other hand, what would it mean to accept that “enough” is enough?  To be smart enough, athletic enough, pretty enough, strong enough, quick enough, funny enough, popular enough, or good enough—what would it mean to say, that is perfect?  What would it mean to teach our children, when you look in the mirror and see the person reflected back at you, that person is “enough”- to succeed in life, to excel in friendships, to create a solid foundation, to be a happy person.  You are enough, period.

And what about ourselves? The expectations we have for ourselves and our families and our congregations often have very little grounding in reality.  What is good enough for others is simply not good enough for us.  “Enough” is not a standard bearer; “enough” is not worthy of praise.  “Enough” is not gasp-inducing or eye popping. Enough is just adequate.  It is merely satisfactory.  It meets the criteria but it does not surpass.  We don’t want enough; we want extraordinary.  And yet, Dayenu…

There is nothing wrong with reaching for the stars.  There is nothing wrong with pushing oneself to succeed and surpassing expectations. There is nothing wrong with perseverance and determination and high-octane drive.  We need that passion to accomplish all we set out to do.  We require that motivation to ignite the spark within our souls.  But we meet a breaking point when the pursuit surpasses the prize, when we find ourselves on a relentless path towards the next best thing-at all costs.

When do we stop and say, Dayenu?  This rung is high enough, this place is good enough and this pace is quick enough?  When do we acknowledge ourselves and our families and our careers and say, we are enough—enough to appreciate and to accept and to cherish and to love?  When do we say, enough is enough with always wanting more, with never being satisfied, with never giving ourselves the opportunity to savor the moment?  When do we say, with true conviction, Dayenu?

We can look back to our Torah for a little help in the matter, and a little inspiration.  When Moses called upon the Israelites to bring gifts towards the erecting of the Mishkan, the holy Tabernacle, they responded with unbridled enthusiasm.  They brought and they brought and they brought some more.  Ultimately, Moses had to stop the flow of gifts; the people had brought too much; “their efforts had been more than enough for all the work to be done.”  (Exodus 36:7)  In this case, God only wanted enough, no more, no less, just enough.

God got it right with the Mishkan.  Passover gives us an opportunity to get it right with Dayenu.  This Passover, may we all go from strength to strength to…Dayenu.

—

Rabbi Sara Y. Sapadin resides in New York City.  She most recently served Temple Israel of the City of New York.  Sara now volunteers as the CCAR RavBlog Member Volunteer.  Interested in writing something for RavBlog?  Learn more. 

Categories
Passover Pesach

Seder on the Dining Room Floor

Years ago, unplanned repair work on our house in early spring devastated our kitchen and dining room, ripped up our living room carpet, and threatened to destroy our plans for a comfortable, traditional Passover Seder. Add to it that more than half the guests were under 6 years old and could barely sit still long enough to dip the karpas in the salt water and we quickly realized that our Passover celebration needed to be creatively re-imagined.

We wondered: how were we going to make a Seder experience that taught our multi-generational gathering about the holiday’s central messages? That we journeyed from slavery to freedom, and that we must help others do the same. Sitting around a traditionally set table was just not in the cards.

We discovered that with creative and open minds, a willingness to merge tradition and innovation, and an accessible flexible Haggadah, an engaging Passover Seder can be had.

We threw borrowed gym mats over the living room concrete, placed Seder symbol-laden coffee tables around the room, and let the kids roll around while we told stories, read interesting tidbits from the Haggadah, and experienced the tactile sensations of the rituals. We realized that like for any other meaningful celebration – a birthday party, for example – the key to memorable success was to intermix food, family, songs and stories, ritual and readings in a meaningful way. We discovered that tradition and innovation needed to go hand and hand.

STJCoverWe also realized that our Seder needed a Haggadah that was filled rich and varied readings, colorful interpretations, easily accessible instructions, and enticing visualization from which we could sample. We have become enamored with Sharing the Journey: The Haggadah for the Contemporary Family (written by Alan S. Yoffie, illustrations by Mark Podwal) published by the CCAR Press. This rabbi-approved Haggadah is as accessible and creative as our personally cut-and-pasted booklets of our younger years with a few fantastic differences: Adults and children alike always seem to discover age appropriate material that uplifts and inspires. Teens and college students appreciate its ability to challenge contemporary understandings, while the grandparents like that it has enough traditionalism to recall their Seders of old. We like the fact that we can use it both at one night’s creative and another evening’s more traditional sit down Seder.

Over the years our Seders have changed. Our guests still enjoy the unique touches that invite contemplation: the football on the Seder plate, (suggesting that just as the Angel passed over the Israelites, perhaps we need to ensure that we hit our intended moral target), and history books strewn around the room (sparking a great discussion of whether the Exodus is historical or not and whether that matters). We just schepp nachas (are bursting the pride) that to this day our kids, relatives and friends enjoy these longer and deeper annual opportunities to explore the abiding lessons of Passover.

—

Rabbi Paul Kipnes is Vice President of the Central Conference of American Rabbis, and serves Congregation Or Ami in Calabasas, California. Paul also co-wrote Jewish Spiritual Parenting: Wisdom, Activities, Rituals and Prayers for Raising Children with Spiritual Balance and Emotional Wholeness.

Categories
Israel

The New Zionism

Suddenly, it all started to make sense as we were enjoying dinner at a tasty Ethiopian restaurant in the center of Tel Aviv with a long-time friend from Westfield and his companion, Rachel. As a teenager, Rachel had made aliyah with her family from Canada to Israel.

A light flicked on in my brain as she announced: “When I made aliyah to Israel 35 years ago, I was a Zionist. Then I lost my Zionism and now…I have found it again.”

“Where did you find it?” I asked.

Her response:  “In the high tech, start-up companies that I work for.”

My wife and I had just completed a week of study, prayer, dialogue, and exploration with 330 Reform rabbis.  The Central Conference of American Rabbis gathers in Israel every seven years to learn, to engage, and to reaffirm our commitment to the Jewish State.

This was perhaps my 35th visit. (My first was three years after the State was established and I’ve long since lost count.)  This time I knew something was different, but I couldn’t put my finger on it until that moment.

A new Zionism has emerged. It is taking many forms, but most dramatically I discovered it in the start up companies that are transforming Israel into a high tech powerhouse and an engine for improving the quality of life for millions of people worldwide.

The most dramatic example we learned about is ReWalk, a commercial bionic walking-assistance system that uses powered leg attachments to enable paraplegics to stand upright, walk and climb stairs.  ReWalk is transforming the lives of those paralyzed by stroke, falls, and spinal cord injuries.

Steak TzarTzar is a start-up that delivers affordable and sustainable grasshopper (yes, grasshopper!) protein. Their goal is to enable populations globally to enjoy high quality, environmentally friendly nutrients that can substitute for animal source protein.

Start-ups become global powerhouses. Consider waste-water reclamation. Israel is today a water and irrigation superpower, No. 1 in the world in recycling waste-water.  Israel partners with Kenya to develop desalination on Kenya’s 500 km. coast along the Indian Ocean, and to support Kenya’s new Water for Schools Program to connect all its public schools to water.  It all began with a start-up from the old Zionism days in the Negev. Netafim, the Israeli-developed drip-system, enables underdeveloped countries worldwide to irrigate fields with a fraction of the water normally used.

Old Zionism was built on an agriculture driven, kibbutz-based model that attracted pioneers who reclaimed the land and supplied Israel’s population with tomatoes, oranges, and cucumbers. Those early settlements provided a refuge for Jews persecuted in other lands and a security buffer against Israel’s regional enemies.

What motivated Rachel’s family and most olim (immigrants) from the West to settle in Israel has disappeared. Israel no longer secures her borders with settlements, no longer absorbs large numbers of olim, and no longer propels its economy with agriculture.

New Zionism is based on a global economy that rewards innovation in technology, especially in health care, environment, security, and communication (software for your voicemail was developed in Israel).  Israeli brainpower and entrepreneurial spirit provide a new foundation for building a prosperous and hopefully secure Israel.

But two clouds hang heavy over this New Zionism and the  Jewish State. One is the continuing occupation of the West Bank. The enduring conflict between Jews and Palestinians, and the failure to progress toward a two-state solution is a threat to the stability  and democratic character of Israel. The other threat is the disproportionate leverage which the ultra-Orthodox exert in the government coalition resulting in relentless attacks on human values, pluralism, and progressive Judaism in Israel.  These are the flaws in Israeli society which lead Israelis like Rachel to wonder if they can still embrace Zionism and which discourage American Jews – especially those under age 45 – from enthusiastic support of the Jewish State.

But here too, there is hope in the form of a New Zionism. Sixty-five percent of Israelis support a two-state solution and a whopping 86% support freedom of religion.  This is reflected in the Israelis we spoke with who are committed to strengthening the state by curtailing settlement expansion and aggressively working for peace. Theirs is a vision which aligns with the democratic, pluralistic values of most American Jews.

In recent years, Reform Judaism has made enormous progress in Israel.  Since 2009, our congregations have doubled to nearly 50. In November, Hebrew Union College in Jerusalem will ordain its one hundredth Israeli Reform rabbi. In a recent survey, 34% of Israeli Jews said that the Progressive movement is the Jewish movement they most identify with. (23% stated that they identify most with Orthodox Judaism).

At our convention, Reform rabbis prayed shacharit at the area of the Kotel which the Israeli government has officially designated to be operated by progressive Jews for egalitarian and pluralistic prayer. The Supreme Court has ruled that every public mikvah must be open to non-Orthodox Jews. A handful of Reform rabbis and synagogues now receive financial support from the government.  These breakthroughs were unimaginable 20 years ago. Even civil marriage is a realistic possibility in the near future.

My friend Rachel is once again a Zionist. She can see that a growing number of Israelis are committed to democratic values, the end of the occupation, and pluralistic Judaism. She recognizes that with courageous, enlightened leadership, Israel can once again be a beacon of hope not only for its citizens, but for people in need throughout the world. She senses that most American Jews share her vision.  She hopes – and so do I — that we will make our voices heard.

—

Rabbi Charles A. Kroloff is Rabbi emeritus of Temple Emanu-El in Westfield, New Jersey, and past president of the Central Conference of American Rabbis.

Categories
Convention Reform Judaism

Reform Rabbis Worldwide Renew and Recommit to a Jewish Democratic Pluralistic Israel

Over 300 Reform Rabbis – North American, Israeli, European, Australian, Russian and from elsewhere – gathered in Jerusalem and Tel Aviv for the CCAR Israel convention. With renewed vigor, we speak in a clear voice, about our commitment to Israel, Judaism, Israeli democracy, Jewish pluralism and peace. Our resolutions expressing love and support for Israel and condemning the Boycott, Divestment, and Sanctions campaign against Israel, make it clear that we are ohavei Yisrael (lovers of Israel), Zionist, passionate and pluralistic, realist pursuers of peace.FullSizeRender-6-1-300x151

As Vice President of the Central Conference of American Rabbis, I arrived in Israel with an expansive mission:  To paraphrase the words of the Ahavah Rabbahprayer, we Reform Rabbis gathered in Israel l’havin ul’haskil, lishmo-a, lilmod ul’lameid, lishmor v’laasot ul’kayeim – to understand and discern, to heed, learn, and teach, and, lovingly, to observe, perform, and fulfill our eternal commitment to this Jewish state.

egalitarian_kotelTogether and in smaller groups, we traveled yamah v’kedmah tzafonah v’negbah (west, east, north and south) to explore, understand and advocate. We prayed together – men and women, in tallit, kipah and for some, with tefillin – at the Kotel’s newly designated Ezrat Yisrael, an egalitarian space. We studied together with some of Israel’s greatest thinkers. We marched in support of a tolerance, embracing the gifts of each religion. We spoke with Jews, Christians, Muslims, and other religious and secular Israelis. With the disenfranchised and the disillusioned. With people of all political persuasions, who live all over Israel and on both sides of the Green line. With Palestinians whose messages were sharp and unwavering.

Our hearts were filled with Ahavat Yisrael (love of Israel), and with Tikvah (hope) for Israel’s vibrant future.

Beyond the listening and learning, we shared clear messages:

We are ohavei Yisrael (lovers of Israel) and our support for Israel is unconditioned and unconditional.

We are Zionists, committed to nurturing a vibrant, Jewish democratic state that lives up to the highest ideals of democracy and social justice.

We are passionate Jews, staking out claim to a pluralistic vision of an Israel where there is more than one way of being Jewish.

We are politically active Jews, prepared to open our mouths, flex out muscles, and commit our money to further the dream of a democratic Jewish pluralistic socially just state for all its citizens.

We are realists, recognizing that a strong secure Israel, while living in a very dangerous neighborhood, can nonetheless work diligently and forthrightly toward helping effectuate the dream of Palestinians for a separate state alongside the Jewish state.

Yes, with undying devotion, we Reform Jews love Israel. We oppose BDS. We support the right of women to pray and practice in a non-coercive Judaism. We oppose the coercive control of the Rabbinate over Jewish life. We discern that Jewish democracy is the way forward. We embrace the humanity of Palestinians and believe in peace.

We return home – until our next trip – passionately rejuvenated in our passion for this beautiful Jewish homeland.

And we pray:

Oseh shalom bimromav hu yaaseh shalom aleinu v’al kol Yisrael, v’al kol yoshvei teivel, v’imru amen. 

May the One who brings peace to the High Heavens, bring peace to us, to all Israel, to all who dwell on this earth. And let us say… Amen. 

—

Rabbi Paul Kipnes is Vice President of the Central Conference of American Rabbis, and serves Congregation Or Ami in Calabasas, California.

Categories
Death Healing News

A Response to Terror in Brussels on Purim

We pray for the people of Belgium and for the families of those killed and injured in the horrific terror attacks in Brussels.

Today, as Jews around the world gather to celebrate Purim, we will pause to remember before engaging in the frivolity and laughter that we are commanded to enjoy on this holiday. On Purim we are reminded of the reality of evil and the serendipitous nature of the line that divides those who are delivered from harm from those who fall victim to hatred and cruelty. Sadly, and tragically, those killed and injured in these brutal attacks did nothing to deserve what befell them. Terror is radically evil precisely because there is no correlation between the perpetrators and their prey. There is no cause, no justice—only random destruction.

We Jews know this kind of evil. We are schooled in it from our history. The martyrs of our people from the pogroms, to the Shoah, to terror in Israel were not singled out for anything that they did. Their fate was sealed because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time when demonic hatred was unleashed. It didn’t matter their age, their gender, or their political orientation. So, too, in Brussels, the line between those who were killed and those who survived was completely random.

This is the chilling reality that we encounter as we read the Megillah. How many things had to go just right at just the right time for the Jews of Shushan to escape without harm from the decrees of the evil Haman? What if Mordechai had not learned of the plot to kill the King? What if Esther had not been at the court of King Achashverosh? What if the king had not granted her access and been attentive to her plea?

Yes, Esther’s example is one of great courage, but also of good luck. Some see the divine hand behind all the vicissitudes in the Megillah, and in life. I do not. God did not save individuals from death in Brussels, and God didn’t single out others to be killed; just as God doesn’t speak or act in the Book of Esther. Divine compassion is manifest in the world and in the Megillah when people bring it. God’s presence is felt in all places when people act in godly ways.

The Book of Esther has a dark ending. The Jews of Shushan go on a rampage of revenge against their enemies, killing thousands. It is a chilling reminder of how violence can breed more violence, and how the demand for justice can turn cruel if it is not tempered by compassion.

The ultimate answer to hatred is not more hatred. It is love. The best response to sadness is to increase joy. For every act of callousness and violence, let there be remembrance, increased vigilance, and the pursuit of justice by just means. Like Esther, let us be courageous in the face of threats to life, liberty, and dignity. And let us ever be God’s partners in making the world a kinder and gentler place for all.

Chag Purim Sameach!

—

Rabbi Arnie Gluck Serves Temple Beth-El in Hillsborough, NJ. 

Categories
Ethics News Reform Judaism Torah

Belgium Raises It All… Over Again

Belgium raises it all… over again.

This week we read in the Torah (Parashat Tzav, Leviticus 6:1-8:36), once again, of laws pertaining to sacrifice and the ancient priestly responsibilities.   Now, we know that the word in Hebrew commonly used to connote “sacrifice” is korban – which better translates as a means of “drawing near.” The idea in Hebrew was that a korban would draw the Israelite people and God nearer one another, through the act of animal sacrifice.

Clearly, such an experience is foreign to our present-day sensibilities, yet today, the term bears heightened possibility… Brussels.

The scenes of the carnage at the airport and the train station – the human sacrifice on the altar of violence in the name of drawing God nearer – must demand our deepest moral attention. To some – the perpetrators and their sympathizers – the images of innocent blood shed in the name of their God relationship – must evoke the very sacrificial experience which Leviticus once commanded.

And, to others – we of the Tradition which has superseded and transcended animal sacrifice in our march towards religious ethics, and drawing near to God through prayer, repentance and acts of justice and kindness – the images remind us that the priestly instructions of Leviticus belong to a bygone age. And our age, instead, has elevated the ethical teachings of that same biblical book, namely, “V’ahavta l’re’echa kamocha – Love your neighbor as yourself,” and to me, even more powerfully, “Lo ta’amod al dam re’echa – Do not stand idly by the blood of your neighbor,” to be the paramount, enduring messages of Leviticus.

Essentially, Belgium raises it all… over again. We can best understand where we stand in the advances of religious civilization by how we stand vis-à-vis the commandments of this sacred biblical book. Do we aspire to see the blood of innocents shed that God might draw near, or do we aspire to bring neighbors together in love and purpose, caring for each others’ blood, that we might draw near, and make ourselves more Godly.

I know where we stand.

Rabbi Doug Kohn serves The Reform Temple of Rockland

Categories
Israel News

If I am a Clown and Mentally Ill, So Be It

The articulated reaction of the Haredi Orthodox rabbinical establishment to the recent symbolic achievements of the Reform and Conservative movements in Israel are angry and pejorative in the extreme. Lest we forget the vituperative character of the comments made about us, mark the following for reference:

  1. The Council of the Chief Rabbinate issued a statement saying it was “against bodies that are called ‘liberals’ or ‘progressive’ that have engraved on their shield the uprooting of the Jewish people from its essence and uniqueness.”
  2.  M.K. Moshe Gafni stated that “Reform Jews are a group of clowns who stab the Holy Torah.”
  3. Rabbi David Yosef alleged that the Reform movement “is not Jewish” and its members are “literally idolaters.”
  4.  M.K. Yisrael Eichler compared the Reform Movement ”to someone who is mentally ill”.

Now, while the stream of insulting allegations have seemingly subsided, these same haredi religious and political leaders have mounted a coordinated legislative and political effort to cancel the modest concessions won by the non-Orthodox movements. Thus, in response to haredi political pressure against the agreement to create a pluralist prayer section at the southern end of the kotel in the Robinson’s Arch area, Prime Minister Netanyahu has invited the United Torah Judaism and the Shas Party leaders to prepare an alternate proposal for consideration. This followed the refusal of the Religious Services Minister, David Azouly to sign off on the government’s agreement with the Reform and Conservative movements. This was hardly surprising given the fact that Azouly is known to believe that Reform and Conservative Jews are not Jewish. And now, Haredi Ministers Yaakov Litzman and David Azouly along with M.K. Moshe Gafni, and with the support of Likud Minister Yariv Levin, have collaborated in proposing a law to enable the Chief Rabbinate to assume administrative control of state funded mikvehs. If passed, this law will enable them to circumvent the Supreme Court decision to allow non-Orthodox religious groups use of local mikvoth for conversion purposes.

In light of the political machinations and religious zealotry of our adversaries, one wonders how members of our movement throughout the diaspora, view these developments.? Do they perceive the conflict as threatening and perhaps even correctly dismissive of their identity as progressive Jews?  Have they accepted the thinking of the Orthodox as representative of the Jewish state and concluded that they have no stake in Israel’s future?

How does one explain to our own people the sociological and theological differences which define our legitimate belief system and theirs? Can we describe ourselves in ways which are no less authentic than the way in which the haredim define as their historically correct understanding of Judaism?  Is not our Jewish mindset and lifestyle at least as accurate an expression of Jewish principles of belief and practice?

Let’s remind our people that Haredi Judaism is in large part a result of the reaction to the threatening influence of the European Emancipation on Jewish life. The fundamentalism of haredi Jews expresses itself in what they believe to be the unchanging character of Jewish thought and life. Rather than change in ways which might have challenged their faith and traditions, they took refuge behind the psychological walls of resistance to new ideas and modern thought. First and foremost is their claim to the unchanging and universal truths of the biblical text. Needless to say their fundamentalism expresses itself in their conviction that Jewish law, halacha, as codified in the 16th century Shulchan Aruch, must be fully observed and recognized as the expression of  the true character of Jewish thought and life.

The religious principles of Haredi Orthodoxy are defined therein as binding rules of Jewish observance and practice. The fact that the Shulchan Aruch is stifling and anachronistic for most modern Jews is of little concern to the Orthodox Haredi believer. But to imagine, as they do, that all Jews must live an insular existence in the 21st century is to propose that proper Jewish life can only be expressed in medieval terms. It is as if nothing has changed in the last several hundred years, not to mention in the last millennium since our ancestors received the Torah on Mount Sinai.

How else can one describe this reality than as one of the great tragedies of modern Jewish life? Moreover, the fact that in Israel it is this minority community of faith which controls contemporary Jewish life is restrictive of the forces of normal social evolution. The consequence is that the non-Orthodox majority Israeli Jewish population is subjected to the invective and authoritarian control of the Haredi rabbinate. And when it comes to matters of identity, conversion, marriage, divorce, death and burial rights, etc., Israelis are compelled to function in the shadow of a form of spiritual terrorism. Conformance to the rules and demands of this Rabbinate is obligatory. There are consequences, enforced by law, to rejection of the Orthodox Rabbinate’s authority.

The fact that for many Israeli Jews, particularly those who are secular, Judaism is what the haredim define it to be, is to accept as normative an intellectual distortion of fact.

Contrary to their uncompromising assertions, as we well know, Jewish thought and religious principles have not been frozen in the canons of Orthodox rabbinic literature. To the contrary, the fact that the vast majority of Jews in the world define themselves as non-Orthodox speaks volumes about the evolution of Jewish life.  Reform and Conservative religious Jews in particular define our faith and practice not only in modern terms of reference but substantively with a more comprehensive appreciation of classical Jewish thought and principles.

The fundamental difference between Orthodox Judaism and the modern streams of Judaism can be explained in the difference between living an insular life of religious observance, what moderns refer to as priestly practice as compared to an integrated life of the priestly and prophetic.

In modern Jewish thought the prophetic narrative is accentuated by affirming the moral and ethical principles articulated by Hosea, Amos, Isaiah and other major and minor biblical prophets. For modern progressive Jews, to be Jewish is to strive to live a moral life. To work towards a more just and ethical society. To condemn economic and social inequalities. To fight against racism and intolerance. To affirm the inherent right of all people to life and to help create the conditions which are necessary to ensure social justice. And above all else it is to work to create a world of peace.

We do not reject the tradition, we incorporate it, all of it into our understanding of Judaism and Jewish life. We are religiously observant but we recognize that our symbols and practices carry a profound message of human responsibility and commitment beyond our own community. Although it is rarely acknowledged, the rabbinic tradition does speak to a reality beyond that of our own.

“I call heaven and earth to witness that whether one be Gentile or Jew, man or woman, slave or free, the divine spirit rests on each in accordance with his deeds.” Yalkut Shimeoni in Judges, Section 42.

 

“Upon three things the world rests, upon justice, upon truth and upon peace. And the three are one, for when justice is done, truth prevails and peace is established.”  Jerusalem Talmud, Ta’anit 4:2

As an Israeli Reform Rabbi I recognize my responsibility to act out the principles of my faith in religious observance and social engagement. This is what distinguishes me from Orthodox rabbis. My horizon of responsibility goes beyond the narrow confines of the Jewish community. It encompasses all who live in Israel, Jew and non-Jew alike. And it reaches beyond our own country into the troubled world in which we all live.

In the words of Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel: “Morally speaking, there is no limit to the concern one must feel for the suffering of human beings, that indifference to evil is worse than evil itself, that in a free society, some are guilty, but all are responsible.”

Heschel also explained that, “to us, a single act of injustice is a slight; to the prophets, a disaster. To us injustice is injurious to the welfare of the people; to the prophets it is a deathblow to existence; to us, an episode; to them, a catastrophe, a threat to the world.”

If believing and living as I do makes me a “clown” or “mentally ill” so be it. Would that there were many others like me and my colleagues.

—

Stanley Ringler is an Israeli reform rabbi and social activist.

 

 

Categories
congregations Rabbis

Five Minutes

“Rabbi, Do You Have Five Minutes?”

I am asked this question all the time.  As I am walking out of the Oneg  Shabbat, as I am finishing preparations for a class, as I am setting up for Torah Tots, someone stops me and says “Rabbi, do you have five minutes?”   In the early days of my rabbinate, I always said ‘yes’.  Standing in the hallway, I waited for the question about the meeting agenda, a mitzvah project, or availability for an unveiling.

Those questions rarely surfaced.  In the requested five minutes I have heard a story about an abusive partner (a fellow temple member), a deceased mother who died young when hit by drunk driver, and a myriad of medical diagnoses.  Impending divorces seem to often be shared after the request for five minutes.  Needless to say, these were never just five minute conversations, and rarely appropriate for the hallway.

I have gone through many stages in my understanding of this request.  At first I took it at face value and found myself surprised over and over again. Then I learned to realize that the request for five minutes was like a code. I had cracked the code and wasn’t surprised when a much more significant conversation was needed.  Not surprised, but annoyed nonetheless.  “Why can’t she make an appointment when I can give her my full attention?”  “Why doesn’t he realize that this is not a five minute conversation?”  “Surely he realizes that I am about to teach/on my way home/in between meetings?”

Why is it that people use a phrase that minimizes what is often far from minimal – death, loss, disappointment, heartbreak?   I have two thoughts – one that focuses on those making the “five minute” request, and one that is about us as rabbis.  Making an appointment to talk to the rabbi adds weight and gravity to the subject at hand.  To actually schedule a time, come in to the office, and sit behind a closed door is to acknowledge a depth of need that many may not yet be able to confront.   Asking for “five minutes” may be a gentle entry into a difficult subject, a way for the individual to try to hold on to the notion that the crises they confront is not as challenging as they fear.  In granting the five minutes that is really 45 minutes, we may gently usher those we care for along their path of growth and understanding.

But I think there is something even more significant in this interaction about how we see our rabbinic work and the message we convey to others.   What does it mean when we say we are busy, that we have a lot to do? Many of us list meetings to attend, classes to prepare and teach, money to raise, boards to train.  We would all say that being present for our community, sharing in their joys and sorrows is also ‘what we do’.  But being present outside of formal life cycle events often can’t be scheduled in the same way as the planning meeting for mitzvah day, and is what gets lost in the crush of an overburdened schedule.

The turning point for me in understanding this was a conversation that I had with a women who had asked for five minutes.  After our non-five minute conversation I asked her why she hadn’t made an appointment.  She said, “Rabbi, you are always so busy and I know how much you have to do.  I didn’t want to add to that.”  I have thought about these words often, and with some shame.  I am busy and I do have a lot to do – and one of the most important of those things I have to do is to be fully present for people like her and all those others who only ask for five minutes. How many times, in my busy-ness, have I failed to convey this?

I have tried to shift my mindset, to make space for the meaningful interactions that happen as people walk in with their kids for tutoring or religious school or to prepare mailings or wait for a luncheon. Being available in all of the in-between times doesn’t interrupt my work, it is my work – holy and sacred work for which I am profoundly grateful.

 —

Betsy Torop is the CCAR Manager for Member Engagement and the Rabbi at Congregation Beth Shalom, Brandon, Florida.

 

Categories
News

Bringing In Mishkan HaNefesh

Two years ago, Temple Beth Sholom had a fire that forced us to rebuild. Along with the destruction of our building, our prayer books, including our Gates of Repentance, were deemed unfit and we buried them in genizah, under the foundation of our new chapel.

This tragedy afforded us a very unique opportunity; without any committees or genizalengthy conversations with the congregation, we chose to immediately purchase Mishkan HaNefesh. The congregation was not totally unfamiliar with Mishkan HaNefesh as we piloted the Yom Kippur Afternoon Service the year before. The Afternoon Service was unique, so it did not give us the full flavor of what Mishkan HaNefesh had to offer.

I spent the three months leading up to the High Holy Days sharing personal articles about transitioning to our new machzor, along with articles from colleagues. My hope was to build anticipation and excitement within the congregation.

Our congregation’s practice is for every person to purchase and bring their personal copy of the machzor for the High Holy Days. We have some available, but ideally we hope our congregants will Mishkan HaNefesh Cover Picture (Light) 10_14_2014invest in their own copy. Many pre-purchased the book and we provided personalized bookplates. We had a number of copies for congregants to borrow and on Rosh HaShanah, all of the books had a card inside. I invited the congregation once again to purchase their own copy. I asked them to fill out the card that evening, give it to a greeter, and then take the book home. The next week, we had the Yom Kippur edition and personalized book plates waiting for all those who purchased them on Rosh HaShanah and the days between. The response was greater than we expected and we had boxes of books waiting for pick up on Yom Kippur. The personalized plates allowed us to then confirm which books were ours and which belonged to congregants.

On Erev Rosh HaShanah, I used the sermon as an opportunity for us to explore our High Holy Days liturgy, its history and in it’s present form. I encouraged the congregation to make the prayer experience their personal experience. “Explore the text, get lost in the readings, don’t worry, we will call out the page numbers and let you know where we are when you’re ready to rejoin the communal prayer. There are no italics, therefore, if you want to read along, then please, read along!” This meant I needed to be aware of my pacing and not only have the congregation follow me, but allow me to follow the congregation.

My goal was to not be the leader of the service, but a participant along with them—to be a guide as we trekked through our High Holy Days experience together. “Guest readers” were not included in the service in order to maintain the flow. Instead, people were invited to participate in the Torah and Haftarah service. And my Cantor, David Reinwald and Cantor Shannon McGrady Bane took us on a completely different journey with Jonah on Yom Kippur Afternoon. They chanted the book of Jonah in English!

The experience of these first High Holy Days with Mishkan HaNefesh was greater than I expected! The congregation was grateful for the opportunity to pray at their pace and to be active participants. I appreciated hearing all the voices from the congregation throughout all the services. The prep work leading up to the services was greater as I needed to maintain the momentum of the service and not go on automatic pilot. The exploration of the text was well worth it and enhanced my personal preparations.

If you can, take the plunge into Mishkan HaNefesh. It will be worth the investment of money, time, and the heart.

— 

Rabbi Heidi Cohen serves Temple Beth Sholom in Santa Ana, California.