thinking jewish

Operating Hypothesis

Two weeks ago, while visiting the city, my mom asked a somewhat jarring question:

"Is there anything you do that isn't Jewish?"

Ignoring the implicit critique within the question, I found the idea interesting. My gut answer was "of course!"

I watch TV, I go to the gym, I walk, I shop, I have friends, I talk, I drink beers (never more than one). The list goes on. But that wasn't the real question. More important, that wasn't the real answer.

Ideally, we live a life where our Jewish identities are so intertwined with our very existence that it's as if we lack a Jewish identity entirely. We just are Jewish. Period. Always. Never. At all times.

In that sense, everything I do is Jewish. I watch TV, I drink beers, I shower. All of it. כל החבילה.

Sitting down with a bunch of seventh graders last night, we continued an exploration of what it means to have been created in God's image. The enduring understanding was figuring out how we treat ourselves and others as holy objects...

What things can you think of that are holy?

The answers were astounding: monks, holy water, religious people, things blessed by people.

The kids were unable, at least initially, to conceive of this concept in a Jewish framework. It took an hour of discussion and chevruta work for them to begin to understand what קדוש means.

But this should be expected.

They have been raised in a world where they've been told to compartmentalize their Judaism. Be Jewish when you walk into the synagogue. Be Jewish when you talk with a rabbi. They hear the word holy, and they think of the things they've been exposed to that they've been told are holy - the Christian things. When I'm not doing Jewish, I'm not Jewish. In the meantime, just be.

You can't just be.

Jewishness, regardless of observance and religiosity, is, at its best, an all-pervasive quality that permeates every iota of ones thoughts actions and being. When you think "holy" think of God's command to Israel, think of being created in God's image, think of being a light unto the nations. Think Jewish. Think.

That is my operating hypothesis. Sorry mom.

Watch Your Head

Step 1

I don't sit easily with mediocrity.
It's unnecesary. It's gross. It makes me anxious - ready to act.

Following are answers I elicited to the question, "Describe the perfect siddur."

God

It would be hebrew and english, translit and translations, because i'd want to be pluralistic and welcoming to all and if possible have different versions of prayers, egal and not, etc. but then you could end up with a book the size of the oxford english dictionary

Carryable

Not too preachy/directive

Hebrew, w/o omitting tons of traditional text, translit, true translation, well formatted

The transliterations must stay...at least for now...I mean...that is how I began to learn hebrew...I used my englsih and my limited hebrew and then began to memorize/mix/and devlop my prayer

Hebrew...english (accurate translations)...commentary on prayers (Mishkan drafts)...

The prayers that we have, i'd like to have the option to have the entire prayer there, not some half-prayer

Why do I ask? B'shem omro, "to give Jews the oppurtunity to pray but still push their comfort zone."

So what's step two?

Word

Shout outs to all UK, Canada, India, Israel and Mexico readers.

We're becoming so international!

The Collision

Second day Rosh Hashanah, I sit in a dilapidated building, filled with more people than most shuls on an under-observed holiday. The walls are cracking, but light beams through one (not both) of the stained glass windows designed more than a century ago. The choir sings Lewandowski's Psalm 150 at the end of the Shofar service as men and women snicker in the back.

I see "superhero" tallitot, and plastic yarmulkes. The average age in the dying room is 30, a generation younger than most other synagogues around the country.

In a building screaming death, life is flourishing. In a neighborhood screaming renovation, an institution lags.

It seems symbolic of wider changes going on within the Jewish world in general. Our institutions are just now beginning to play catch up with the explosion of "alternative" expressions of Jewishness. Here in New York alone, the list is endless...

...Kol Zimra, jDub Records, Heeb, Jewcy, Hadar, Altshul, Oyhoo...

In Jurassic Park, the antagonist Lawyer states emphatically that there will be no dinosaur babies within the exhibit. The scientist disagrees, "Life will find a way." Despite all of the best attempts by Park employees to stymie new creation, it happens.

Despite the best attempts by ingrained boards and outdated models to keep Jewish innovation at bay, it's happening.

Jewish life will find a way.

And it has. The Jews are starving. They're ready to eat.

Brooklyn Jews attests to that. Adults in San Diego spontaneously creating their own Rosh Hashanah "service" in a living room attests to that. Denominational youth movement leaders calling in movement-wide mass-emails for an embrace of pluralism and post-denominationalism attests to that. The congregation of 20 strangers in my living room Saturday night, praying and eating and laughing and playing, attests to that. NFTYites rebelling against a siddur that was intended for them, not by spurning prayer, but by embracing it, attests to that.

It's a giant collision of ideas and lofty goals and good intentions and passion and learning and hope. Hope.

Hope for a better future. One that makes sense. One that is worthwhile and interesting and fun and meaningful. One that we control and define positively. We're getting there.

Two trains are speeding down the same track, ready to collide. When they do, they won't derail. Instead, they'll fuse into one, and change direction entirely - laying down new tracks as they chug along on their way.

That's where the real work begins.

Long Needed Change

From the mentor:

For Rosh Hashanah tonight and tomorrow I’m talking about social and physical infrastructure. They are the two pillars that I bounce between on any given day and stand at the center of any Jewish community that is built, anytime, anywhere in history.

The social infrastructure I’m interested in exploring is a kind of comparison between the current demographic of this slice of Brooklyn as compared to past generations who sought community and connection at 8th Avenue and Garfield Place since its founding as a Beit Elohim in 1861. Imagine: Abraham Lincoln was President when the Shul I now lead was established. Different time, no?...

I will be comparing it to one element of our physical infrastructure: a large, stained glass window of Jacob the Patriarch, lying beneath a ladder with angels “ascending and descending” as the Torah teaches. In his flight from seizing the birthright and family blessing, he happens upon a place and discovers God. What does it mean to encode in architecture the real meaning and implication of this tale? Is it too radical for organized Jewish life? Or does such spiritual radicalism lie at the root of our very essence as a people?...

Saturday morning I’ll be talking about the actual physical plant and its need for repair. Seriously. We have two leaky roofs and some serious decay in the grand sanctuary (built in 1909 for you history buffs.) God’s name is misspelled above the doorpost our house and our burgeoning educational programs are pushing at the very limits of the Temple House. We need to get some work done and it’s going to take sweat, inspiration and money.

That’s okay. That’s life. And we live to accomplish.

Here the stained glass window I will point to has Moses in a basket, hovered over by protective women–Miriam and Yocheved (his sister and mother, most likely.)

Moses didn’t know what was about to happen to him. Dumped in a basket to save his life, his flight began at birth; and unlike Jacob, he didn’t seize his birthright but stumbled upon it at the Burning Bush, where he could hardly grasp the weight of God’s challenge that he go lead his people. He is the original reluctant prophet and as a result is a model to us all: when we just don’t want to do it, remember the stuttering, lisping reluctant Moses who led a people out of slavery to freedom.

But there too, is another unlikely unfolding: it wasn’t Moses who parted the waters at the Red Sea but rather the quiet and unassuming Nachshon ben Aminadav. He waded into the water, risked drowning, and only then did the waters part.

Lesson: we all have to wade in for the waters to part. Our leaders can’t make it happen.

To the once-a-year synagogue attenders: once a year doesn’t part the waters of redemption. Each of us must wade in daily to ensure our ability to not just survive but thrive as a people.

Let's get it started...

Sneak Peak

If you're interested in seeing the words of Torah I'll be teaching to the Brooklyn Jews tonight, click here.

Shanah tovah, u'metukah!

Good Luck

הִנְנִי הֶעָנִי מִמַּֽעַשׂ נִרְעָשׁ וְנִפְחָד מִפַּֽחַד יוֹשֵׁב תְּהִלּוֹת יִשְׂרָאֵל בָּֽאתִי לַעֲמֹד וּלְהִתְחַנֵּן לְפָנֶֽיךָ עַל עַמְּךָ יִשְׂרָאֵל אֲשֶׁר שְׁלָחֽוּנִי אַף עַל פִּי שֶׁאֵינִי כְדַאי וְהָגוּן לְכָךְ לָכֵן אֲבַקֵּשׁ מִמְּךָ אֱלֹהֵי אַבְרָהָם אֱלֹהֵי יִצְחָק וֵאלֹהֵי יַעֲקֹב יְיָ יְיָ אֵל רַחוּם וְחַנּוּן אֱלֹהֵי יִשְׂרָאֵל שַׁדַּי אָיוֹם וְנוֹרָא הֱיֵה נָא מַצְלִֽיחַ דַּרְכִּי אֲשֶׁר אֲנִי הוֹלֵךְ לַעֲמֹד וּלְבַקֵּשׁ רַחֲמִים עָלַי וְעַל שׁוֹלְחָי

נָא אַל תַּפְשִׁיעֵם בְּחַטֹּאתַי וְאַל תְּחַיְּבֵם בַּעֲוֹנוֹתַי כִּי חוֹטֵא וּפוֹשֵֽׁעַ אָֽנִי וְאַל יִכָּלְמוּ בִּפְשָׁעַי וְאַל יֵבֽוֹשׁוּ הֵם בִּי וְאַל אֵבוֹשׁ אֲנִי בָּהֶם קַבֵּל תְּפִלָּתִי כִּתְפִלַּת זָקֵן וְרָגִיל וּפִרְקוֹ נָאֶה וּזְקָנוֹ מְגֻדָּל וקוֹלוֹ נָעִים וּמְעֹרָב בְּדַֽעַת עִם הַבְּרִיּוֹת וְתִגְעַר בַּשָּׂטָן לְבַל יַשְׂטִינֵֽנִי וִיהִי נָא דִלּוּגֵֽנוּ עָלֶֽיךָ אַהֲבָה וְעַל כָּל פְּשָׁעִים תְּכַסֶּה בְּאַהֲבָה כָּל צָרוֹת וְרָעוֹת הֲפָךְ נָא לָֽנוּ וְּלְכָל יִשְׂרָאֵל לְשָׂשׂוֹן וּלְשִׂמְחָה לְחַיִּים וּלְִשָׁלוֹם הָאֱמֶת וְהַשָּׁלוֹם אֱהָֽבוּ וְלֹא יְהִי שׁוּם מִכְשׁוֹל בִּתְפִלָּתִי

וִיהִי רָצוֹן מִלְּפָנֶֽיךָ יְיָ, אֱלֹהֵי אַבְרָהָם יִצְחָק וְיַעֲקֹב הָאֵל הַגָּדוֹל הַגִּבּוֹר וְהַנוֹרָא אֵל עֶלְיוֹן אֶהְיֶה אֲשֶׁר אֶהְיֶה שֶׁכָּל הַמַּלְאָכִים שֶׁהֵם מַעֲלֵי תְפִלּוֹת יָבִֽיאוּ תְפִלָּתִי לִפְנֵי כִסֵּא כְבוֹדֶֽךָ וְיַצִּֽיגוּ אוֹתָהּ לְפָנֶֽיךָ בַּעֲבוּר כָּל הַצַּדִּיקִים וְהַחֲסִידִים הַתְּמִימִים וְהַיְשָׁרִים וּבַעֲבוּר כְּבוֹד שִׁמְךָ הַגָּדוֹל וְהַנוֹרָא כִּי אַתָּה שׁוֹמֵעַ תְּפִלַּת עַמְּךָ יִשְׂרָאֵל בְּרַחֲמִים בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה שׁוֹמֵעַ תְּפִלָּה

Get It

She stands with her friends, excited for her second day of religious school... her second day ever.

Yes, she's 12, but it's never too late to start. She knows she has much to learn, extra tutoring sessions so she can get down the aleph-bet, but she's focussed, and excited, and determined.

"The rabbi says I may be able to get it while I'm still thirteen," she exclaims. Yes, obviously, she's talking about her Bat Mitzvah.

So she's been given a totally ludicrous depiction of what becoming a bar or bat mitzvah actually is, and she's ready to receive it, like a magical diploma from Sinai. This wasn't our doing - the old guard did that.

She wants to learn. She's excited to be in religious school. She's ready to actively and positively be Jewish. She gets it.

And so does the boy, her peer, who wears a Yankees hat like it's a religious duty. He too is twelve, yet he studies text better than most people my own age. He saw through the pasuk, he understood the Rashi, he offered a great drash of his own:

"We were all created b'tselem Elohim. So when you see someone doing a good deed, see the spark of God inside of them."

Booyah.

Whoever said that 7th graders couldn't "get it" lied.

Whoever said that text was impossible was wrong.

Whoever said that we had to dumb down Judaism to make it relevant and meaningful was an ignoramus.

There's a magical land, on the other side of the river, where trees grow, and coffee flows and apartments cost less than an arm and a leg. There, the ground slopes towards the harbor, and a renaissance in Jewish life is emerging - one in which liberal Jews study and act - nilmad v'na'ase - pray and grow.

Little by little, it's starting. They get it. Got it?

Quote of the Day #2 (Sorry Caryn)

"I am not interested in Jewish continuity; I am interested in Jewish revolution."

-Rabbi David Wilfond, aka Gingi