religion – Page 10 – Jewish Relationships Initiative

Chag Sameach

We Jews have been scrambling a bit. Yom Kippur just ended and last night was the start of Sukkot. We only had a few days to build the Sukkah. In addition to being busy, it is a fascinating time of year. The High Holidays are an intense period of introspection. As we commit to making this New Year a meaningful one, learning from the lessons both good and bad of the past year, we keep in mind the fragility of life. Like Yom Kippur, Sukkot continues to remind us that life is precious, it is a gift and we do our best when we live each day to its fullest. One way we do that is to sit in our Sukkah, that meager shelter with the partly open roof and only three sides.

We dwell there and invite others to join us. But this invitation is more than Jewish hospitality for we invite not only friends and family but also the spirits of those who came before us, those who embodied the highest Jewish Values. These people include our Forebears, patriarchs and matriarchs of Judaism and perhaps of our own families. Abraham and my Zeyde, Sarah and my Bubbe, and the list goes on. Each soul is an exemplar of a particular virtue such as compassion, wisdom, and courage.

These welcome guests represent the best of us. When we remember them and invite them to dwell in our Sukkah with us they come alive as a presence. We embrace them and realize indeed Zichronam Livrachah, their memories are truly both a blessing and an inspiration for us.

They enlighten us, inspire us, they connect us to the enduring nature of our people and the values that make being Jewish something so very special. May we embrace more than their presence, but may we embody the best of who they were so that we may become more than we are.

Chag Sameach!

Elul and Mercury in Retrograde- what happens when Astrology and Judaism collide?

Mercury is in retrograde. From August 30 through September 22, Mercury is moving backward in the sky from our perspective. This is the third of four such occurrences this year according to the Old Farmer’s Almanac. Astrologers say this event is supposed to mark a time for reflection rather than new action. This is not a time for decision-making. Instead, we are to assess priorities and plan to move forward by reviewing projects and determining where to appropriately focus energy.

Elul is the month preceding Rosh Hashanah. It is our Jewish time for deep reflection and repentance as we prepare for the High Holidays. For many of us, this is our period of Teshuva, the “return to God” that requires seeking and granting forgiveness as we strive to understand where we went astray and how we can get back on the path of living a meaningful righteous life.

I’m not suggesting that there is some equivalence between Astrology and Judaism or that the early astrologers were Jews. But I believe that making time to take stock of whom we are is of utmost importance to finding fulfillment. The unexamined life is not worth living, so teaches Socrates in Plato’s Apology. So many of us are consumed by the day-to-day issues of living, sometimes, it is all but impossible to step back and assess where we are and where we are going.

In life we often awake to find we have been blown off course. Anyone who has ever piloted a plane or a boat knows navigation is an ongoing process of course corrections, so too life. Currents and tides constantly push us off course and our aim has to compensate if we are ever to arrive at our destination. For some of us, we don’t even take the time to determine what our destination might be. For all of us Elul is an appointed time to engage in the process.

As we approach these High Holidays may you find forgiveness for those who have offended you, be forgiven by those whom you have offended and find your true path of meaning, relationships, and fulfillment.

L’Shana tova

A Zissen Pesach and Shabbat Shalom

Wishing everyone a zissen (sweet) Pesach holiday. A time of celebration and gratitude for who we are and all that we have. Let all who are hungry come and eat! Open up your tables and your hearts.

Ask The Rabbi

It is Spring, Pesach and time again to launch another season of “Ask the Rabbi.”

The hardest part about this “Ask the Rabbi” experience was actually mustering up the courage to go and sit down with my little sign announcing my presence. Once I got over my own fears, I did it. I took up residence in my space. I sat down, pulled out my sign and waited for an opportunity. A shaded table, a smile and a sincere hello are the key ingredients to this recipe.

A person might ask “Why do I do this?” (go ahead, I’ll wait) Simply, it seems like a good idea. I am out in my community trying to be friendly, to connect to people where they are. There are no expectations. It’s just me and another empty chair inviting people to join me. Reactions run the gamut from ignoring me to embracing me. But here I am.

I am here because I met a friend and colleague for coffee not too long ago and we spent much of our time together saying hello to people we knew and introducing each other and engaging in pleasant conversation. It got me to thinking about what this might look like to purposefully be present. Interestingly, other colleagues particularly my fellow friends in Rabbis Without Borders were thinking along similar lines. Most notably Rabbi Michael and Rabbi Ari have posted their experiences. (and special kudos to Rabbi Michael for getting the TV publicity and raising awareness of his work.)

We are going to where the people are instead of waiting for them to come through our doors, open as they may be. And it sends a message that we are out and present in the day-to-day encounters, not solely the ritual events, meetings and conferences we attend, or our institutions. We are just out here saying hello, sharing some time and welcoming another’s presence, starting a conversation and perhaps a journey together.

So, Come! Ask the Rabbi!

Saying goodbye to a dear old friend

April 15 will be the final day in the life of Temple Beth El in Spring Valley. That was my home growing up. She has merged with another and is now part of the new Reform Temple of Rockland County. Her time has passed, but it is so difficult to say goodbye to a place that is so much a part of me. I learned so much there, developed friendships that still endure, knowledge of my heritage that connects me, a lens through which to look at life and understand it, giving me the foundation upon which to build a meaningful life. It was in this place that I learned about things greater than myself, what it meant to be Jewish, what it meant to be a mensch. My rabbi, Rabbi Frishman z”l, and my cantor, Cantor Weinflash z”l, were towering figures then and still serve as guides along my path. Saying goodbye to this special place is very hard.

The building was much more than a structure; in many ways it was as much home to me as the place I went to lay my head at night. Temple was a place of extraordinary and wonderful experiences. I learned in the classrooms and to teach there as well, to sing in the choir box, to pray in the pews, to engage in the community, to champion important values and causes, to learn about culture and art, to develop a love of Israel and the Jewish people, to ponder great questions and explore the answers, to find meaning under the watchful care of those who loved and nurtured me.

At Temple I became Bar Mitzvah and was married. At Temple I said goodbye to my parents. Our family names adorn the honor wall and Yahrzeit plaques, my dad’s name on the panel of presidents, pictures of me and my brother and sister standing on the bima as part of our confirmation classes, art contributed by my parents, and on and on and on. Words alone are inadequate to express the depth of my emotional attachment this place represents. Almost every corner of the building has a memory of my time there growing up. I am truly blessed to have been there and been a part of it.

On April 15, we will gather one last time in the Sanctuary of Temple to welcome Shabbat and celebrate a place so many of us called home. Temple Beth El lives on in the people who received the gifts from being involved there. Times change and once useful buildings can outlive their purpose, but the relationships and the beauty created in this special place will endure. This is the blessing of Temple bestowed upon us.

Tazria-A metaphor for helping through bereavement

Something bad happens a strange infirmity of the body called Tzaraat appears. Some say it is leprosy, others claim it to be the heartbreak of psoriasis. But it appears on clothing too. Either way, the priest confirms the affliction and the family is moved out of community. The priest tends to the affected individuals watching to confirm that the disease has passed so they can rejoin the population. Something else might be going on here however.

I was planning a Shiva Minyan teaching the other day and I saw the words of this parshah speaking to us about the grief-stricken family.

Something calamitous happens when a loved one dies. The loss shakes the family to their core and, as our tradition suggests in our rituals surrounding death, the shock and grief is overwhelming and incapacitating. The seven days of Shiva are marked by an abnegation of needs; the mourners sit on low stools, do not attend to basic items such as grooming, clothes are rent.

We in the community are tasked to keep a caring eye on the mourner. We check in with them regularly. We bring the Kehillah, or sacred community, to the mourner so they may engage in prayer even though they are unable to come to the synagogue. We bring them food to eat because they are unable to care for themselves. We offer love and support and succor. We watch over them until it is time for them to start the process of re-joining the community. We welcome them with caring embrace when they come back to the synagogue to say Kaddish. Like the priest helping the ailing, we are responsibility to the mourners through the period of Shiva through the time they can return. Shiva is like the exile of old from the community. It is imposed for reasons over which the person has no control but is rendered impure, or in this interpretation separated because of the trauma of loss.

Tazria shows us that although an ordeal separates the mourner from the community, the community has a responsibility to reach out and continue to support the grief-stricken, acknowledging the difficult place to which they are banished by loss, but caring for them providing protection and then a pathway back to home and life.

Every Leaving Always Late

Modesty and a seat too far

The current seating spat aboard El Al planes reminds me of seating elsewhere in the Jewish world. When planning the wedding, the seating chart seems to rank as important as the Chuppah. Aunt Sophie wont sit with Uncle Benny who would be upset if he didn’t sit next to cousin Terri who is rooming with Sophie’s daughter. The brouhaha about certain men refusing to travel next to a female other than his wife on a plane seems easy enough to overcome long before there is a confrontation on the airplane. This on board argument helps reinforce the old expression that EL AL was an acronym for “Every Leaving Always Late” and is an unfortunate commentary on our ability to get along.

This is an issue for the men in question, not the rest of the passengers. The easiest solution is for men who have this need to be required to buy the seat(s) adjacent, if other such observant men do not also book seats. Preflight booking can ask if this seating issue exists. If the yes box is checked, then a new level of scrutiny is developed. If the box is not checked, there is not consideration. The seating chart can be developed using computer algorithms. Alternatively, sections can be set aside for the observant. If seats are not available, the section can be expanded or the plane listed as sold-out for that section. Maybe business class could be reserved for all women who find they are bearing the brunt of this bad treatment. Maybe we do a first come first served approach. The balagan that is the El Al boarding process would look much the same as it does now.

There seem to be a multiplicity of solutions available long before boarding takes place. For a land touted as among the technology centers, this problem seems far from daunting. To create an argument on the plane or make some passengers feel unwelcome seems to be the worst possible alternative. My guess if that if the airline were held accountable, a workable solution would be quickly found. Maybe the pending lawsuit is the needed catalyst.

Nisiyah Tovah!

The Kotel Compromise- A win or pyrrhic victory?

The Kotel is a special place. As a remnant of the Temple, we have gravitated to it to feel a special closeness to our history, to a Divine place, the home for the Almighty that we built. We feel a deep emotional and often mystical connection that draws us into the space. Otherwise it is nothing more than a large brick wall.

I recall arriving in Jerusalem for my first year of rabbinical school in Israel. I got off the plane, hopped into the sherut to Jerusalem dropped off the bags and then headed to the Wall. It was late. I had traveled for what seemed like days and although exhausted, I was compelled to go to the Wall. The emotions welled up from deep inside. I stood in the plaza gazing upon this place. With the kind of intense reverence and awe that happens rarely, I slowly approached the Wall. It was powerful. The thing that happened to me was an extraordinary moment, an encounter between my history, my people, my God and me. But the Kotel is not the sole place of my Judaism. The Makom or place of my Judaism extends beyond time and space and includes the idea of a Jewish people. This vision of Judaism however is compromised by the very compromise announced to create separate spaces for different kinds of Jews to pray.

The arrangement for the space at the Wall has in many ways undermined what the space itself means for Judaism. Each denomination of Judaism now has a place it can call its own. The Wall of the Temple has been segregated, sliced and diced so each sect has an area where it can feel comfortable. The gain of a place for egalitarian Jews at the wall however is also the loss of the symbol of the Wall for us all as a place of unity; for these partitions are along the fault lines of Ashkenazic observances segregating us from each other instead creating a place accessible to everyone. The remnant of where God dwelled amidst the Jewish people has become a place of division and discord within God’s people.

We have all seen the photographs of the wall at the turn of the century. Men and women were there together. The Wall was a private space to connect individually in a public place. How you practiced or the community with which you identified did not matter. In the early post-1967 days that sense of Klal Yisrael permitted a similar experience. It was fleeting, and sadly, it has devolved into staking territory in a turf war. Although liberal Judaism may have won something important in getting a place at the wall to pray, we must regretfully acknowledge that in this agreement something else important continues to elude us, namely the unity of the Jewish people.

Perhaps we should re-focus the issue as one regarding the kind of ceremony and ritual that are generally permitted in this public private space. The kinds of rituals that permit us to be together could be more important in the grand scheme of things than the particular observances that create schisms among us. In my experience I was solitary but in communion with Am Yisrael. Under our current circumstances an experience at the Wall might require we visit both areas, one to be among those who share our beliefs and practice and the other to be with another part of our people, to taste their experience and ponder the ideas of the Judaism values that guides us all and strive to create a Judaism that connects us all.

Appropriate or Participate?

Historically, Jews have been actively influenced by the cultures in which we have lived. We learn and borrow from the cultures we live along side. Often our holidays are influenced by these civilizations. Today in the United States we also have the opportunity to take part in national celebrations as full-fledged Americans. How do we, as modern American Jews, engage in rituals that bind Americans together? How do we participate without risking our identity? We have done it with Thanksgiving, but can we do it with Christmas?

There are now effectively two Christmases in the United States. There is Traditional Christmas and there is American Christmas. Traditional Christmas is the religious celebration of the birth of Christ. It is an event with deep meaning for those of the Christian faith. The themes of Divine Love, Peace on Earth and Goodwill are universal values at the core of this deeply religious and holy holiday.

Traditional Christmas is properly the purview of Christians. We cannot presume to enter that space, only respectfully watch from the outside. However, secular American Christmas has become a quintessentially American holiday. It has been reframed and modified into an earthly and commercial season that traditionally started with Santa arriving in front of Macy’s during the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade and continuing with other markers including the major retail events known as Black Friday and Cyber Monday.

American Christmas is a secular event that builds on the values of Traditional Christmas but has been reimagined through a secular and highly commercialized lens. Stripped of its religious elements, American Christmas embraces the joy and other positive emotions of the holiday. Christmas Trees, festive lights and decorations, Rockefeller Center, the windows of Lord & Taylor, Rudolf, Santa Claus, Burl Ives, Irving Berlin, Christmas Songs of all kinds. The list goes on and on.

American Christmas is a time for good cheer, holiday parties, gift giving, family gathering, tree decorating. It has greatly influenced and elevated our celebration of Chanukah. A message of goodwill towards all, peace and love still underlies the season. The promotion of these universal values is something we might actively embrace. Interestingly, we already do it from the other side.

Chanukah has become one of the most popular celebrated Jewish holidays. This is in response to the overwhelming presence of Christmas but also because we have actively promoted Chanukah as part of the American landscape. There is hardly a public square that does not contain a large menorah. Chabad is ubiquitous, lighting the Chanukiah across America from the Washington Mall to the Suburban Square Shopping Center on the Main Line in Philadelphia. Dreidels and Latkes have become part of the American consciousness. Chanukah is promoted as a proclamation of Judaism as a public good, espousing universal values for all to embrace. As we have given the gift of Chanukah to America, can we accept the gift of American Christmas?

We claim to be a nation that shuns the boundaries that separate us. Our millennial generation has embraced that message. And they have an important point, for we can maintain our identity while sharing with others. Opportunities to bring us together as a human family are too few and deeply needed. We often find ourselves separated from others by fears and prejudices that could and should be set aside. Sharing the universal messages of American Christmas with our fellow citizens might be an opportunity to build bridges that deepen our relationships. For our sake let’s celebrate and embrace the holiday season.

Happy Holidays, Chag Sameach and Merry Christmas!

Happy Holidays

When is it okay to participate in holidays traditionally reserved for others?

Most of us are preparing for Thanksgiving. We have embraced Thanksgiving as the quintessential American holiday, and as such, we will be planning travel to visit other relatives, prepare a bountiful table and of course watch the Macy’s parade in the morning and football thereafter. American Jews embrace Thanksgiving, just like all other Americans, but we struggle with other American holidays. Although almost all of us celebrate Thanksgiving, many of us still wrestle with Halloween and most of us would not consider celebrating Christmas.

These three holidays are iconic parts of living in America. And all three share religious backstories. Christmas as the celebration of the birth of Christ is certainly the most obvious. Halloween is grounded in pagan rituals and Thanksgiving is essentially a Christian Sukkot, rooted in a Christian religious tradition of gratitude for God’s bounty. What makes the secularization of this holiday such that we are able to embrace it and celebrate, stripping it of its original grounding and retelling the story in a way that it can become ours, and why are we unable to do likewise with the others?

Many of us kept our children from Trick-or-Treating worried that dressing up in a costume and participating was an affirmation of a pagan ritual of witches and warlocks. However, Halloween has been stripped of its religious meaning. I read recently how one rabbi used a creative Jewish lens through which the celebration included sharing excess candy collected by her children with the less fortunate. One of my fonder memories is taking my son by the hand, dressed in a costume that mom created, while I was dressed up as a giant hamburger. The only bad part of Halloween was the stomach-ache and crash after my sugar high from over indulgence.

Christmas is a more complicated situation. But in this age of acculturation, interfaith couples and of course commercialization, there are places where we can enjoy the holiday. I say that very cautiously and carefully because I do not want to be disrespectful of those that hold this as a sacred holiday. However, the Coca-Cola inspired Santa Claus and Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer both pale in comparison when I faithfully listen as Bing Crosby sings White Christmas in the movie of the same name (Bing also sang it in Holiday Inn). Irving Berlin’s classic homage yearns for us to be able to embrace this American holiday as our own. As many of you know, coming from an interfaith background, I am familiar with the beauty of a family gathering, honoring my grandmother, and sharing gifts on a day devoted to love and togetherness. We as modern American Jews need to figure it out. And in our own unique way, we have already begun.

We have substantially ramped up the Chanukah holiday celebration. This is however a contrived response to a Christmas in which we long to participate. Without reservation I fully support the increase in joy we bring to our “minor” religious holiday including the latkes, Chanukah cards, 8 days of presents, parties and so on. We go a step further in our “Chinese food and a movie” ritual on December 25. The question is whether we maintain a fictional “Chinese wall” separating holidays, holding steadfast to our modern re-interpretation of Chanukah, or can we consider an American Secular Christmas? I submit that celebrating one holiday does not preclude the other, nor does such a celebration threaten our core beliefs. Instead, acknowledging Christmas in a modern American Jewish context can bring us in closer alignment with the Jewish dream of acceptance in America and more importantly, serve as a significant learning opportunity to share with our children what these holidays might mean metaphorically and Jewishly.

Happy Holidays and Chag Sameach!