Author Archives: Jesse

going places…

On a train, rumbling through the farm fields of Quebec in the direction of Toronto, I finally make contact with the world outside of Montreal. The train has internet. My apartment does not. How ridiculous. And yet, within this fact, I’m sure there’s something deep to be explored… something about how you have to go places to find people… or something about how you have to find your place between homes to see the world… or something like that… yeah, something deep like that.

I’m sure I could find something more important to say. But I find myself succumbing to the movement of the train. It’s relaxing and making me tired.

I’m going to sleep.

living the simultaneous life

My life, or whatever it can be called right now, has entered an unusual new phase. Moving to a new city and studying at a new school (indeed, an entirely new type of school) will of course entail a few hectic weeks of moving, unpacking, and settling in. And of course, that’s what I’m stuck in the middle of. But my life, or whatever it may be called right now, (I’m thinking… “Property of the National Theatre School of Canada”?) seems to be stuck in an entirely new mode of existence.

I’m simultaneously on standby and overdrive.

I had classes from 9 to 7 today. And it’s only the second day of school. Truth be told, we actually haven’t even really started the school year yet, this is just a chance for our programme to work before everyone gets here. It’s overdrive. And I love it. But it’s overdrive.

But I’m on standby, too. I have no internet, phone service, or tv. The outside world would cease to exist, were it not for the wonderful free internet at the cafe around the corner from me. I still have yet to respond to Rabbi Yoffie regarding the dialogue he initiated with me over my previous infamous blog post, and I have yet to catch up on a lot of correspondence from the summer.

So here I am, standing by and waiting, while at the same time revving my internal engines.

My message to the rest of the world: give me a week, and I’ll resurface.

I hope.

still on standby

Never having moved all of my belongings to an entirely new city, I have absolutely no idea how to judge how long it takes to pack everything up in a semi-organized manner. Let’s just say it takes quite some time. And money.

That in mind, I’ll resume a somewhat more regular blogging presence once I’ve moved into my new place in Montreal. Of course, there is a specific topic of interest that I need to address once I’ve settled in. I promise, more will come on that!

In the meantime, here’s where I’m starting classes next week!

In the meantime…

On Friday, hours before Shabbat was to arrive, I dumped some thoughts out of my head and onto this blog. Knowing that they were provocative and not merely some light reflections, I expected some sort of reaction from people. But I had no idea the kind of response it would elicit. But then, that’s the whole point of this internet thing, isn’t it.

I spent Shabbat mulling over it all. I’m still mulling. Obviously, a response is on its way. In the meantime, for those that are interested in the topic of commandedness, I recommend the following:

  • “Duties of the Soul: The Role of Commandments in Liberal Judaism,” edited by Niles E. Goldstein and Peter S. Knobel.

  • Various articles in “The Reform Judaism Reader,” specifically Emil Fackenheim’s Nothing is More Important (1954), Jakob Peteuchowski’s Experiencing the Commandment (1961), and Arnold Jacob Wolf’s The Need to Be Commanded (1967). Obviously, the entire chapter on The Halachah of Reform, with notable articles by Rabbis Mark Washofsky, Herman E. Shaalman, and David Polish, is of great importance.

  • Liberal Judaism and Halakhah” edited by Walter Jacob.

    • BZ’s article on Limmud NY’s Reform Halakah panel is also insightful.

    As for me, a response is coming… very soon.

    And I’m still very much a Reform Jew, as I indicated in my previous post.
    Take a look at the last paragraph.

    Well, I guess I’m out…

    After years of being questioned by various family members, friends, and confused strangers as to whether or not I really was a Reform Jew (apparently believing that washing your hands before eating is a thoroughly un-Reform concept), the answer is in folks.

    It has been decided that I am, in fact, not a Reform Jew.

    Yes, the confusion is over, and thankfully so. Interestingly, the one who made the life-altering decision is none other than Rabbi Eric Yoffie, the president of our movement. I am simultaneously honoured and flabbergasted that he takes such an interested in my personal beliefs. This life-altering information was disclosed to me in a fascinating article in The Jewish Week written by Debra Nussbaum Cohen. In it, Rabbi Yoffie makes the following assertion:

    There are limits to what Reform Judaism can encompass… If you take [Jewish Law] upon yourself as an obligation rather than as a choice, you’ve reached the point at which you’re no longer a Reform Jew.”

    Well. I’m glad he spelled it out so clearly. So much for theological pluralism.

    While the article itself is quite thought-provoking, and will most certainly be the topic of a future blog post, Rabbi Yoffie’s assertion remains front and centre for the time-being. In all seriousness, I am angered and somewhat frightened by this revelation.

    Such an exclusionary statement is not only antithetical to the so called pluralistic values of Reform Judaism, it is also contradictory in and of itself. To be sure, every act and belief that we take upon ourselves has some element of choice in it. I am not forced to believe that there are certain things that God requests of us, nor am I forced to perform any acts. Even for those of us who believe in aspects of Divine commandedness, choice is still central. Moreover, Reform Judaism’s principles of inclusiveness and pluralism teach me that not everybody understands God and Judaism in the same way that I do. So while I may believe that God commands certain things, I also understand that other Jews do not experience commandments in the same way.

    It seems to me that Rabbi Yoffie’s statement is thoroughly un-Reform itself. And that troubles me. Certainly, the notion of commandedness is not foreign to Reform Judaism. Rabbi Gunther Plaut has the following to say about it:

    Mitzvah is an indigenous part of Judaism; there can be no Judaism without mitzvah. And there can be no Shabbat observance without definable and therefore observable מצוות עשה (positive mitzvot) and מצוות לא תעשה (negative mitzvot).”

    ~The Sabbath in the Reform Movement (1965)

    My chief concern is not the notion of a Judaism devoid of elements of Divine command (although I strongly disagree with such a supposition). What troubles me the most is the notion of a Judaism that doesn’t even allow for the possibility of the opposite. We’re Reform Jews, aren’t we? We value religious pluralism, don’t we? We stand for diversity of thought and practice, don’t we?

    This is not an isolated issue, either. In the current edition of Reform Judaism (the magazine), Yoffie writes the following:

    … a certain number of our congregational leaders… [urged] the Union to focus on spirituality, not politics. It is more important, they said, that we Reform Jews concentrate on Jewish education, worship, and Outreach than on issues of public policy.

    I understand this argument, but I cannot agree. Reform Judaism came into being as a protest against those who insisted on limiting Judaism to matters of ritual and study… For Reform Jews, worship and study must always lead to active engagement with the world.”

    Always? Praying to God must always lead to political action? Nu? Isn’t that a very limiting statement itself? Doesn’t that limit Judaism to matters of politics? Why can’t it be both? Why can’t worship and study be for some a way to communicate with God, for some a way to engage with our rich history, and for others a way to change the world? PEOPLE! This is what we claim Reform Judaism to be. It’s what we tell others that we are. We know that in action, it’s not always the case, but at least pluralism had a home on paper for a while. It seems now that even on paper we’re become less pluralistic.

    This orthodoxy of Reform continues to trouble me. It is so frighteningly contradictory, and it shakes me to the bones. Make no mistake, I am a Reform Jew, and I will continue to be one. But I will not box myself into a definition of Reform Judaism that excludes others.

    The dangers of encyclopaedic Zionism

    The notion of having one day dedicated to particular cause, or a certain ideology, or even a specific person has always been somewhat foreign to me. Even as a child, I recall wondering why we needed to set aside specific days to love our parents. Mother’s Day and Father’s Day just didn’t make sense to me.

    Which is why today – Yom Yisrael at camp – continues to puzzle me.

    Why do we need a specific day to learn about Israel, to express our love for our home, and to give our Israeli shlichim a chance to shine? Certainly, Israel education is an important part of the pedagogy at camp… but so is God. Do we have Yom God? Do we have Yom gay rights? Do we have Yom Egalitarianism? What is it about Israel that requires a separate day? To be sure, we also offer Israel programming on other days throughout the summer. Why the need for a day?

    When NFTY chose its study theme for 2006, I was similarly confounded. The theme was P’Kichut Eineinu L’Tziyonut: Opening our Eyes to Zionism. “Great!” I thought at first. “I like Zionism. I like opening people’s eyes. This should be good.” But then the wheels started turning in my head, and I thought, “But shouldn’t we always be opening eyes? Shouldn’t that be a part of what we do always, not just for one year’s study theme?” Let me be clear, excellent programming has come out of this study theme, as it has from the many Yamim Yisrael that have been held. But what does it mean when we put something up on the pedestal of a study theme, or a dedicated day at camp?

    It means that it’s not down amongst the people where it belongs. It means that it is elevated to such a level that some people are intimidated by it. It means that it is seen as a singular issue that can be looked at, dealt with, and then tucked away as a completed task.

    Israel is not completed. The Zionist project has not been finished. Far from it. There is much to do. With Yom Yisrael, no matter how dynamic and fantastic our programming is, we run the danger of creating the impression that Israel and Zionism are encyclopedia entries that can be pulled of the self when needed, looked at, and then re-shelved.

    So what do we do on Yom Yisrael? We highlight facts about Israel. We eat Israeli food. We play Israeli games. We listen to Israel music. We look at maps and pictures of Israel. And we talk to Israelis. [See above comment on encyclopedias]

    Encyclopedias have their uses; they’re great for one-shot info sessions. But that’s not how I want to interact with Israel, and it’s not how I want others to, either. This is not the kind of Zionism I’m interested in. I’m not even sure if it can be called Zionism. I’m more interested in developing a bookshelf of Israeli and Zionist education. Of creating an entire library of experiences that will truly shed light on this country that is clearly so central to our people (Hey, it gets its own day at camp!). The encyclopedia might be fine for some, but it reminds me too much of a travel brochure. I’m more interested in the magazines, op-eds, novels, biographies, and the essays of Israel.

    So what is the purpose of Yom Yisrael… Is it get people more interested in Israel? To get them to travel to Israel? If this is the case, aren’t we woefully nothing more than a tool of the Israeli Ministry of Tourism? We’d like to think that we give Israel its own day in an attempt to foster a love of and greated connection to her, but can one day really do justice? Israel education – if it really is as important as we say it is – needs to become as natural to us as tikkun olam is. It needs to become a part of our zeitgeist and ethos.

    Perhaps next year in its place, we should hold a Yom Fair Trade Coffee instead.

    From chaos, order

    It has been an exceptionally busy two weeks. Such that I haven’t even had time to sit down to read the news, satisfy my facebook addiction, or peruse other people’s blogs. I start reading, and am inevitably interrupted by an (allegedly) more pressing task.

    I’m counting my blessings that the chaos seems to have subsided… for the time being.

    Here’s a checklist of what I have been meaning to write about. I’ll be getting to each of these items as soon as I can.

  • Rabbi Yoffie’s most recent editorial in the current edition of Reform Judaism Magazine
  • A philosophy of t’fillah that I happened upon, courtesy of some unaware teens.
  • Yiddish Curses
  • My time in NYC this summer

    • For now, I’ll briefly address one of these items, with this delightful Yiddish curse:

    Migulgl zol er vern in a henglayhter, by tog zol er hengen, un bay nakht zol er brenen.

    Translation: May you be transformed into a chandelier, to hang by day and to burn by night.

    If a Jew falls in the Woods…

    While teaching my elective at the kibbutz today, one of my students brought up a delightful bit of insight. You might even call it a quintessential Jewish paradox. Or perhaps just a cultural pondering.

    My elective is entitled Yid vs. Goy: Secular, Jewish, and Israeli Culture. We’ve been covering a motley crew of topics, from traditional religious observance to modern musical expressionism. Today, we were talking about the prevalence of Jewish culture in secular society, with a specific focus on the arts. Today was a highlight.

    On a hot, sticky day, on which half of the class decided to skip to pursue other (illicit?) pursuits, one statement (a la “if a tree falls in the forest…”) resounded against the ambient noise.

    If an audience with no Jews in it went to see Spamalot, would there still be people to laugh at the Jewish jokes?”

    This was a reference to the song “You Won’t Succeed on Broadway if You Don’t Have the Jews,” which itself is an off beat satire of the very thing which we were discussing today, namely, how is it that less than one percent of the world’s population seems to exert so much cultural influence.

    A Jewish Conspiracy?

    The discussion took an incredibly interesting turn when we began to discuss who has ownership of the various Jewish cultural influences on non-Jewish society. Do we get to decide who gets to laugh at our jokes if we don’t tell them? Do we get to decide who eats our food if we don’t cook it? Do we get to decide who listens to our songs if we don’t sing them? And are they all still Jewish if we don’t?

    I know my answer. What’s yours?

    Nobody loves Luxembourg. Nobody hates Luxembourg.

    Zionism is a strong and powerful word. It’s about something that is much bigger than Israel. It’s not just about Israelis. Whenever you have a strong and powerful word, you’ll always have people who are opposed to it. For people who aren’t strongly committed to something like Zionism, to see people strongly attached to this idea is a scary thing.

    If you “like” someone, most people won’t argue against you. But if you “love” or “hate” someone, you’ll have people who argue with you.

    I once heard it put (admittedly unfair to Luxembourg): “Nobody loves Luxembourg. Nobody hates Luxembourg.”

    Israel is either loved or hated. Nobody just “likes” Israel.

    So what to do? The only thing, I believe, is to make sure that those who hate Zionism don’t get to define Zionism for the rest of us. If we let others define who we are, then what are we?
    Let the lovers of Zion (and I might add that love of Zion includes a healthy dose of criticism) be the ones who get to define it.