A tale of one city

The following are quotes that have appeared on posters and signs of protest regarding this week’s Peace Summit in Annapolis. All of the slogans belong to either Arab or Jewish protesters. I’ll leave it to you to figure out which belong to whom.

Not one inch.

You have no right.

Anyone who gives away the property of our people is a dangerous traitor.

It belongs to us, all of it.

Jerusalem is ours in its entirety.

The land is ours alone, from the Mediterranean to the Jordan.

Any act is just in defense of our right to our land.

Our case, our cause is entirely, objectively just. Theirs is a flat lie.

A no to compromise is a yes to self-defense.

Peace is an illusion.

Don’t even think about it.

If you need help parsing this out, it’s for good reason. I suggest reading this for a little assistance. Then again, you might not what like what you read. But that’s the whole point of this protesting thing, isn’t it? People who don’t like what other people are doing.

No lamenting lost individuality

In this world, we largely define ourselves in relationship and opposition to those people and things around us.
Individuality is sham – a misnomer that doesn’t do justice to the fact that we live in an hyper-connected world.
Don’t get me wrong – uniqueness does exist. I have my own unique characteristics, beliefs, abilities, opinions, and thoughts.
But it is impossible to be an individual in this world. There is nothing singular about life anymore. Perhaps some monks and hermits can truly say that they are individuals, but for those of us living in the concrete jungles, our individuality has been lost.

And that’s nothing to lament.

To be sure, it’s a good thing.

This all dawned on me this past weekend, as I hopped on the metro and travelled out to the ‘burbs to see a dress rehearsal for a fine production of Arthur Miller’s Enemy of the People. It’s being put on by the large Jewish theatre company here in Montreal. I live in an almost entirely French neighbourhood on the French side of town. Thus, my walk from my apartment to the metro was surrounded by the usually Frenchness of this locale.

A half hour later, as I got off the metro, I entered a different world. It looked a bit like North York in Toronto. Kate remarked that it looked like Halifax. Funny how suburbs all over the world look exactly the same. Ahh, suburbia. The Jewish theatre is, of course, located in a largely Jewish suburb, which meant that I was now in a much more familiar world – Hebrew adorned billboards, an Israeli flag flew outside the local JCC, and Mezuzah’s adorned the houses. I’m home!!!

Of course, it was nice to be in a place that I identify much more with than the Francophone neighbourhood in which I live (and love living in!) At the time, I felt that being in the Jewish neighbourhood was reflective of a huge part of my individuality. Here I was, one of the only Jews at my theatre school, going off to the Jewish theatre with school friends. But — upon further reflection — it occurs to me that it’s exactly the opposite of individuality. I may be unique (albeit slightly so) in my position at school, but that doesn’t make me individual in my being. This little journey across town reinforced my connection to a different group of people – it didn’t strengthen my individuality.

A few hours later, again on the metro, the hockey game had just finished and hundreds of Habs fans piled onto the metro cars. All of a sudden, I felt quite singular again. I made jokes about yelling out cheers in favour of the Leafs, then running for my life at the next stop. But in truth, I had this feeling of being an “individual” again – being surrounded by an entirely opposing culture. (On that note, anyone who doesn’t understand the diametrically opposing forces of the Toronto Maple Leafs and Montreal Canadiens should educate themselves. Read: Dave Vaisberg, you can’t be a fan of both teams!) But as I’ve thought about this seemingly innocuous event, it paralleled my theatre experience… my status as a leafs fan is not part of my individuality, it’s part of my connection to a much larger institution.

An intriguing revelation to have. I’m still not entirely sure it can be said with 100% certainty (can anything?), but I challenge others to come up with examples of true individuality.

Is Israel the proud new owner of a hamster?

Always fun to throw a shout out to fellow bloggers ranting (or passionately discussing…) about Jewish life way out here in the Diaspora. The lovely Brooklyner (is that what you call someone from Brooklyn?) has picked up on the moral delicacies of what to do with the current state of affairs in Gaza.

There’s something odd about the notion of Israel continuing to provide water to Gaza, yet cutting off oil as a power source. It seems a little two faced. Shouldn’t the response be a little more balanced? I’m always caught at a loss to find the balance between Israel’s right and responsibility to defend itself, it’s responsibility to care for those Palestinians who live in its midst under its direct or indirect control (the ger toshav who the Torah explicitly instructs us to respect and treat as one of our own), and it’s responsibility to find some way to get the Palestinians to care for their own.

Look, there’s no concrete answer right now. I don’t pretend to have one, and I don’t imagine anyone else does right now.

And I’m not going to go on and on and on and on about how the situation sucks and it’s so and so’s fault and blah blah blah.

That’s been done. Ad nauseum. By me, and others. But here’s what I have to share…

There was a comment posted in response to a Ha’aretz article some years ago. I don’t recall who posted it, or where they were from. But I will never forget the undeniable wisdom that this anonymous being shared. I hold it dear to me and I continually find that it helps inform my entire perspective of the matzav.

It went something like this:

The Torah says that Abraham and Sarah’s decedents will inherit the land, but it odes not tell us what to do with it. Wise beneficiaries will use an inheritance wisely… the book of Deuteronomy says “Lo bashamayim hi” – it is not in the heavens that we derive authority. God gave authority and wisdom and patience to us. Now let us use it.”

This beautiful midrash has much to teach us. Much more than my pedantic musings will allow. So in short here’s my question in response to the Gaza brouhaha – Is it a show of divinely bestowed authority and wisdom and patience to dangle canisters of oil over the heads of ordinary Gazans, while graciously letting them drink from our hands?

Contrary to the rhetoric of the anti-Israel crowd, the Gazans don’t live in some sort of hamster cage. Or at least that’s what we insist on. I think. Right?

Some thoughts for Shabbas…

 

It is not a cloudless day. The divine arc that bends toward a truly just and whole society has not yet stretched fully across my country’s sky like a rainbow of peace. It is not finished, it does not always live up to its promise, it is not perfect – but it is new. A brand new thing, like a dream of God, has come about to replace the old story of mutual hatred and oppression.

Worth repeating…

The following editorial is from the Thursday October 25, 2007 issue of The New York Jewish Week.

What’s The Big Idea?
Gary Rosenblatt

There is something thrilling — yet also disturbing — about the Andrea and Charles Bronfman Foundation’s new quest for The Next Big Jewish Idea, a plan to sponsor a two-year visiting post at Brandeis University for the contest winner to develop a proposal that will “change the way Jews think about themselves and their community.”

Thrilling because there is an air of creative excitement about the prospect of coming up with a concept as transformative as birthright israel, which the Bronfman Foundation helped found and which has inspired tens of thousands of young Jews from around the world who in the last decade have benefited from a free trip to Israel.

But what troubles me is the very notion that we
need, and can benefit from, a quick fix to the myriad problems that threaten the future of Jewish life as we know it in America.

We set a trap for ourselves if we think that any one project can deal with issues as complex as increasing assimilation, diminishing Jewish birthrates, less identification with Israel and American Jewish institutions, and a rise in secularism and distrust of organized religion, for starters.

The good news is that, while it’s true that most young Jews are not interested in affiliating with synagogues and organizations the way their parents and grandparents did, that doesn’t mean that they are not exploring their own ways of expressing Jewish identity. I for one am heartened, particularly this week after experiencing The Conversation — a two-day conference sponsored by The Jewish Week in partnership with CLI (the Center for Leadership Initiatives), bringing together more than 50 current and emerging Jewish leaders around the country from a variety of backgrounds to meet, network, and explore new ideas together.

I met a number of men and women in their 20s and 30s who are engaged in fostering and strengthening Jewish community in a variety of ways, from Internet projects to experiments in Jewish communal living to educational innovations.

One of the more memorable sessions — all of which were off the record so as to give the participants a sense of comfort to speak openly — was an hour-long discussion by the full group on what Jewish art means today: who produces it, how it’s defined, and what it expresses. It’s an especially rich topic since there has been a burst of creativity of late from young Jewish musicians, filmmakers, photographers, painters, comedians and others in the arts.

I came away more optimistic about the Jewish future, convinced that we don’t need a Silver Bullet but rather, as veteran University of Michigan Hillel director Michael Brooks says, “we need Silver Buckshot” — any number of small but sustained efforts to heighten Jewish identity and awareness.

The Bronfman Next Big Idea project echoes a 1929 contest sponsored by Julius Rosenwald, the Sears Roebuck chairman, to help Judaism “best adjust itself to and influence modern life.” The winner of the $10,000 prize was Rabbi Mordechai Kaplan, whose seminal work, “Judaism as a Civilization,” led to the foundation of the Reconstructionist movement.

Almost eight decades later, we are still trying to help Judaism “best adjust itself to and influence modern life.” But that’s an ongoing process that can best be done by cultivating the natural blossoms of creativity that are sprouting all around us.

Jewish life doesn’t really need another Big Idea. It already has one, and it dates back thousands of years. Judaism gave the world the concept of monotheism, produced the Torah and a set of commandments and rituals that have sustained us as a people ever since, as well as the notion that we have a relationship with our Creator and are partners in repairing the world.

One big idea is enough. The challenge today is not to come up with another one but to fulfill our original role as “a light unto the nations,” not in the sense of superiority to others but rather as humble models, still and always dedicated to leaving the world a better place for our children than the one we inherited from our parents.

That’s an idea, and goal, that can and should keep us going forever.

Gary Rosenblatt is the Editor and Publisher of The New York Jewish Week.

Of hearts and minds…

There’s brotherhood here. Even if it is through killing.

Writing a play about Iraq is no easy task. Writing a play in protest of the war in Iraq is almost impossible to do successfully. Already you’re fighting a losing battle. The clichés and stereotypes already abound. Bombshells have been dropped on Bush over and over and over again. And littering a text with half-assed military references and war-speak has been tried, tested, and most of the time proven useless. We get it. The war sucks. People died. People are dying. Dying is bad, and fighting is bad, and killing is bad, and destroying a nation in the name of who knows what is bad.

The war in Iraq is bad.

The play I saw tonight is good. Quite good. Really good.

Now, I need to qualify good, because apparently “good” is not good enough. Unfortunately, I still need to absorb much of what I saw this evening, and it wouldn’t be fair to review the play without doing some deep thinking about it.

In the meantime, it is comforting to know that someone has actually been able to bypass all the bullshit and write a contemporary commentary on war and Iraq that is imminently relevant and appropriate. It is instantly both heart-wrenching and heady, and I encourage you to see it if you can.

The play is called Gas and is written by NTS graduate Jason Maghanoy. Directed by Guy Spring, it is presented by infinitheatre and is playing at Bain St-Michel here in Montreal. Check out their website.

Please, go see it.

Instant Gratification, Part I

Who thought a commercial could contain some pretty deep life philosophy? Let alone one for Hyundai, at that…

Instant gratification has us in a stranglehold.
So much so, that we don’t want to fix things anymore. We just replace them.

Don’t like your nose? Get a new one.
Don’t like your job? Get a new one.
Don’t like your spouse? Well, get a new one.

Whatever happened to commitment? To standing by our decisions?

A ram’s horn, the life’s work of a bee, and a round loaf of bread

We Jews are strange people.

We cover the challah so it doesn’t get jealous when be bless the wine first.
We spend a week living in a wooden shack of sorts just so we can remember what life was like in the desert for forty years.
And we drink a lot of wine. Perhaps it’s a way to help us decipher all the symbols around us. Or to get past the stress of having to deal with them…

Tonight, we surround ourselves with a world of new symbols. The shofar is reminiscent of days of old. It awakes the mind and soul. The apples and honey nourish our bodies and invoke a sweet new year. And the round loaf of bread… it is symbolic of our world and the roundness of time.

Why not just set the table with an alarm clock, some coffee, and a calendar? Why does everything have to be symbolic? Why – when we know what is meant by all of these objects – do we use distant representations rather than realistic items?

At Rosh Hashanah, we are meant to examine ourselves individually and communally. It is the beginning of the time of renewal. A sort of yearly psychiatric check-in. This is not a symbolic check-in … to be sure, we must renew ourselves physically, emotionally, spiritually, religiously, psychologically, and in many other adverbial ways.

And so, while it would be easy enough to celebrate Rosh Hashanah with a birthday cake, we instead use symbols to do so. Because the real, concrete work that is being done is within ourselves.

On this Rosh Hashanah, I wish you all a Shanah Tovah u’Metukah – a sweet and happy new year. May this chag be a time of meaningful personal renewal, and may you find joy and happiness in the coming year.