Category Archives: Judaism – General

One of those moments

A little over a month ago – at the conclusion of the most recent Canadian federal election – I posted an article expressing great disdain for the Jewish electorate in my hometown riding of Thornhill. I made no attempt to hide my affiliation with the Liberal Party and my disdain for the Conservatives. I did, however, lay out a relatively objective argument against the elections and the Conservatives’ tactics.

In my rants, I placed the blame squarely on my fellow Jews for electing in Peter Kent – the Conservative Candidate. Given that Thornhill is about 50% Jewish, and that Kent campaigned largely on a platform of “support” for Israel and “I’m not Susan Kadis” (herself a Jew!), it isn’t hard to see how the connection can be made. Also given that Thornhill has been solidly Liberal for all but 5 years of its lengthy history, there had to be an identifiable tipping point in the change. And I identified it as being among the Jewish electorate.

Apparently I struck a sour chord with some, as I was accused of being an offensive racist. As an ardent pluralist (and an ardent Jew!), I refuted these remarks, but basically, I let the issue slide. Clearly my argument was not meant to imply that there was some conspiracy among us Jews, rather it was a demographic observation (coupled with my admittedly Liberal philosophy) attempting to shed light on the matter of one-issue voting. Plus, I was angry – so I ramped up the rhetoric.

Well… Turns out Peter Kent is thanking the Jewish community by making one of his first public speaking appearances at a breakfast at the BAYT (the largest Orthodox shul in Canada, and a really nice community). In last week’s Jewish Tribune, the president of the BAYT’s brotherhood was quoted as saying:

“When I first heard Peter Kent speak to us at BAYT [Beth Avraham Yoseph of Toronto Congregation], I said to myself, here’s someone who understands the security challenges that Israel and the Western world are facing today and is willing to do something about it,”

This just reinforces my earlier point… it seems that by and large, the Canadian Jewish community is more concerned with one foreign policy issue than with Canadian domestic policy. As I iterated earlier, I have a great concern for this type of voting. Setting aside the fact that Canada has little to no role whatsoever in Israeli or Western security — these remarks illuminate the obsession amongst Canadian Jews with expecting the Canadian parliament to focus on one issue.

As a pluralist, I can entirely appreciate someone who aligns him or herself with Conservative values and believes in the Conservative Party’s overall agenda (something that was almost impossible to do this year given the CPC’s lack of a formally platform presented in time for Jews to vote). I would never assume to dictate what beliefs someone should uphold. But it seems that for much of the Canadian Jewish community, the qualification for getting elected is whether or not you say nice things about Israel.

There are moments when I’m actually thrilled to be living outside of Canada. This is one of them.

Irrational Theological Yoga (with Maimonides)

It’s that time of year, folks. The time when Jews get really sad and stop eating. The time when we cry about our past that we can’t seem to let go of and spend all day avoiding each other’s eyes.

No, it’s not the family reunion.

We’re coming up on Tisha b’Av, my favourite of the religious practices avoided by Reform Judaism. I say avoided because we haven’t really expunged it from the realm of “normative” Reform Judaism (a concept that I acknowledge is itself highly specious), we’ve just pushed it to the fringes of what we do. I imagine that part of the reason for it’s relegation to the land of tznius and shatnes is that Tisha b’Av always takes place during the summer, when attendance at shul is down and most of the dedicated member base aren’t around. I would be curious to see what a Reform observance of Tisha b’Av would look like if it were in September, right after Simchat Torah.

In any case, it seems that many Reform Jews have a fragile relationship with Tisha b’Av. Most Reform Jews don’t do anything at all to acknowledge the day. At many of our camps, there is some sort of ceremony that is largely tied to the creation of Israel and it’s successes in light of our history of persecution. And then there are those Reform Jews that try and engage with the central meaning of the day – the destruction of the Temples. I would be willing to wager that out of those who observe some form of rememberance – either through fasting, prayer, study, or the such – none actually wish to see the beit hamkidash restored. For those Reform Jews that do observe Tisha b’Av, the day is about something else. So what is it about?

The URJ’s Jewish Holidays website has this to say:

“Reform Judaism has never assigned a central religious role to the ancient Temple. Therefore, mourning the destruction of the Temple in such an elaborate fashion did not seem meaningful. More recently, in Reform Judaism Tishah B’Av has been transformed into a day to remember many Jewish tragedies that have occurred throughout history.”

Ok, fine. Fair enough. We’ve got Rememberance Day in Canada, and there’s Memorial Day in the USA. But collective historical memory is nothing new to Jews. It’s no Reform innovation to say that we need to recall our past tragedies. So what’s going on?

Rabbi Lewis M. Barth, professor emeritus of midrash and related literature at Hebrew Union College, posits a modern Reform approach to the day in this week’s Reform Voices of Torah:

“Tishah B’Av could be a day that we spend in self-reflection and self-examination regarding (1) the legal, economic, social, moral, and religious issues of our own time, (2) the ways our congregations and communities might measure ourselves and society against our commitments to social justice, and (3) the obligations we have to take responsibility for helping to make this a better world.”

Ok, that’s good, too. Great, actually – a perfect model of Reform Jewish practice. But it’s also no Reform innovation to suggest that we need to think about how to better our socity. Ever heard of tikkun olam? Do we need Tisha b’Av to highlite the importance of tikkun olam in Reform Judaism?

This past week, Rabbi Joel R. Schwartzman responded to Rabbi Barth’s drash, with the following question:

“How far should we be willing to go in re-adopting what so many of us believe to be antiquated and outmoded observances, beliefs, and rituals? How far ought we be willing to stretch ourselves ideologically when it comes to these concepts which our Reform fore-bearers jettisoned?

Things in Jewish blog-land are never dull. I’ll respond to the idea of “stretch[ing] ourselves ideologically” in a moment. First, here’s an excerpt from David A.M. Wilensky‘s response to Rabbi Shwartzman’s response:

“Does mourning the loss of the immense and rich culture of European Jewry that existed before the Shoah mean that we desire to return to a ghettoized, isolationist shtetl lifestyle? Obviously that’s not what is meant when we mourn the loss of that culture. We accept that a Jewish way of life, full of culture, came to an end and we mourn its loss.”

I’m not sure how much unpacking David’s reponse needs – it’s pretty straightforward. I recommend reading the rest of what he has to say. I happen to agree (mostly) with him on this one. For Reform Jews, Tisha b’Av is not about tying ourselves down to an Orthodox conception of the holiday, nor is it about re-establishing a caste system. In that light, and going back to Rabbi Shwartzman’s posting, I do think that the holiday can be about stretching ourselves ideologically. I also happen to think that that’s what all of Reform theology and practice should be about – stretching ourselves.

I (and I don’t believe I’m alone on this one) have always believed that Reform Judaism is verbular – it is a dynamic movement. Indeed, we are a movement. We’re unsatisfied with stagnant practices and beliefs solely for the sake of maintaining the status quo. Why then should we be afraid of stretching ourselves on Tisha b’Av? How about some theological yoga? Hell, even Maimonides knows that observances are useless unless they direct us towards the greater good:

“There are days when all Israel fasts because of the troubles that happened to them, in order to awaken the hearts and open the pathways of repentance… so that in the memory of these matters we will return to doing the good.”

~ Mishneh Torah, (Ta’anit 5:1)

Even some members of the Modern Orthodox world seem to be acknowledging that Tisha b’Av doesn’t have to be about a restoration of any sort, but is more about fighting against political and societal corruption:

…But by 70 CE the whole [Temple] thing was probably looking a bit dated. How long could the [Beit Hamikdash] have gone on for anyway? Certainly by the middle ages the notion of having a temple and sacrificing animals would have been totally ridiculous, and even by Chazal‘s time I think it was just not feasible… By the end, the Temple had become a totally corrupt institution. (Actually even near the beginning). And the Priests were a political power base which Chazal didn’t care for too much.”

As for me, I think within Reform Judaism, the “raging” debate over observance of Tisha b’Av is part of the greater debate on the inclusion of rational vs. irrational practices. As I’ve noted earlier, I think Judaism (and religion, really) isn’t an inherently rational institution, so to try and square everything out is like trying to push a square block through a triangle hole. At some point, you’re going to distort the square a little too much. Is it rational to observe Tisha b’Av when we have no desire to see the Beit Hamkidash restored? Nope. In no way. Why mourn something you don’t want back. The reason we mourn things is because we lament their loss, and I think it’s completely irrational to mourn the destruction of the Temple. But I also think that’s ok.

I think we should be irrational. I think we try way to hard too rationalize everything, and we are worse off for that. Let Tisha b’Av be a time when we embrace the irrationality that exists within our traditions and stretch ourselves a little. When we mourn the destruction of the Temples, what is hidden behind the irrationality of that mourning? It is the opportunity to think about political corruption and the ways in which we can better society, not for the inherent worth of doing so, but for the sake of embracing a hugely significant part of our history.

The Mathematics of Faith

Full Disclosure: I failed grade eleven math.

It’s been almost a decade since I’ve had any real formal education in the mathematics, so I’m not going to be preaching any sort of math related truths here. Or maybe I am. I guess it depends on how much faith you have in math.

As I was skimming through blog posts of old, I came across some teachings about God by Rabbi Elyse Goldstein that really jumped out at me a few years ago while she was teaching at my shul. I’m thrilled to have stumbled upon them again, as they fit in with a post I had been planning. Here’s what she has to say:

“Thinking about God is like thinking about infinity; you can do it, but it really hurts sometimes.”

I remember being younger and trying to think of infinity and actually getting cramps in my head. It still happens. The same happens when I think about the creation of the universe. Or the size of the universe. Or God. I find it particularly comforting that even in Judaism where we have a plethora of ways to describe God, sometimes we need to stop and remember that God is bigger than us. Much bigger. So big, that at times, we can’t even think properly. It’s humbling.

This eerily parallels a discussion I was engaged in earlier this summer at Kutz, where Rachel Petroff posited a brilliant and beautiful notion:

“Faith is not math… we’re not building what the early reformers were. It’s not all about rationality. Everything doesn’t have to equal out.”

Odd that the intangible and indescribable can be solid building blocks. Just as we have a hard time conceiving of infinity, it is nevertheless one of the building blocks of math. Try telling a mathematician that at some point, the numbers have to end. And just as we have a hard time conceiving of God’s presence, it is an ever-present part of our Judaism. But Judaism isn’t mathematical. It’s not always about logic and equal sums. It’s not about proofs and equations. Belief in God isn’t about what’s on the other side of an equal sign.

Rabbi Goldstein goes on:

“It’s very hard for me to think of God and how God exists in this world, but it’s even harder for me to think of a world where God doesn’t exist.”

The mathematician responds: “It’s very hard for me to think of infinity. But it’s even harder for me to think of a world where the numbers stop.”

I may have failed math, but I do understand this equation.

…אם אין קמח

אם אין קמח אין תורה אם אין תורה אין קמח
If there is no sustenance [literally flour], there is no Torah.
If there is no Torah, there is no flour.
Pirkei Avot 3:21

Rashi comments on this perek by noting that one cannot always be studying Torah – if one does not eat, then one can’t learn. At first glance, one might assume that this means that there are times when you should take yourself away from Torah… ahh, but of course, that’s not the case. Those rabbis were tricky fellows. In short, what the rabbis are getting at is that there are multiple paths to Torah. Or for those who believe that there is a singular path of Torah living, the rabbis are noting that each person who travels it is unique. No two people walk down the same physical road at the same pace, on the same path, or with the same stride. It would be foolish to think the same of the path of Torah. Thus, the time you spend feeding yourself and taking care of your personal needs is part of paving the road of Torah. Without food, it would be a pretty bumpy ride.

To be sure, just before the above quoted line, it is written “Where there is no Torah, there will be no good conduct; where there is no good conduct, there will be no Torah.” The Hebrew for “good conduct” is derech… literally “path,” or “way.”

Now you are likely asking yourself why Jesse has suddenly delved into a drash on Pirkei Avot and Rashi. Especially after a blogging absence that Mark Swick would label “a shanda!” The answer, folks, is quite simple, and can be summed up in one word. A word which, in fact, is perhaps the single word which can be used to describe our current socio-cultural-political zeitgeist.

Facebook

That’s right. Facebook. Rashi, Pirkei Avot, and Facebook are now having a party together. And I’m sure that somewhere in the Facebook universe there’s an invite that hasn’t been sent to me.

This evening, through the marvellous wonder of the mini-feed, I happened to notice that a person (who shall remain anonymous) had listed their religion as “Torah Jew.” Having long ago withdrawn the limits of what one could list their religion as, we’ve seen many things filled into that magical space on people’s profiles. From the oft pervasive secularism of the theatre crowd to my own listing as “Frum Reform,” I do believe that the customizable space is a great benefit. I’d be the last person to suggest that you can pigeon-hole something as expansive as religious beliefs into a small box on Facebook.

But this notion of Torah Jew – a phrase I’ve heard repeated many times before – suddenly troubles me. If there are Torah Jews, it naturally implies that there are Jews who don’t get to have the distinction of Torah be a part of their Jewish identity. Are some Jews more observant of the Torah’s laws? Most certainly yes. Are some Jews more involved in daily Torah study? Of course. But does answering yes to these questions make such people any less entitled to the Torah? Has the Torah withdrawn itself from them? Is the Torah entirely absent from their lives? Can it be said that there is any Jew that is devoid of Torah? I challenge you to answer yes to these questions. No human has the right to deny Torah from another. By titling oneself a Torah Jew, it intrinsically – and arrogantly so – serves to snub those who aren’t classified as such. It is yet another elitist tool of certain members of the Ortho-aristocracy. And worse, it is a silent and subversive tool.

The Torah teaches that Moses was not allowed into Eretz Yisrael because – similar to much of (but by no means all of) the current generation of Orthodox Jews – he did not speak gently to the people and tried to impose his authority via arrogance.

To quote an anonymous commentator of some ha’aretz article from while back:

This is the great failure of this generation of Orthodox Jews: instead of leading the wider Jewish people to Torah, they have decided to isolate themselves in arrogance and in judgement…

I challenge the Orthodox Jews to attract Jewish children to the Torah with the same or greater strength that they are attracted to Harry Potter. This should be their mission. Not accusing the non-Frum Jews of their failure.

What’s in a name?

This week’s parasha is a story of blockbuster proportions. We’re getting into the heat of the Exodus narrative. It’s a story of treachery, captivity, leadership, and the launching of Charlton Heston’s career. And of course, it all begins with a few simple personal introductions:

And God spoke unto Moses, and said unto him: I am the LORD and I appeared unto Abraham, unto Isaac, and unto Jacob, as אל שדי but by My name יהוה I made Me not known to them.

Sh’mot 6:2-3

In Torah study at my shul, we never get beyond the first few verses, so we spent the better part of two hours dwelling on these few lines. Of course, the question came up as to why God has more than one name, and why they are used at various times. For some, the natural response is that there are multiple authors/editors of the Tanakh, and so they use different names. For me, resorting to the Documentary Hypothesis whenever there’s a perceived inconsistency in the Tanakh is a little too easy and logical. Setting aside for the moment that it is – by definition – merely a hypothesis, I believe that sometimes the desire to find logic in the Bible detracts from the more mystical elements of the text that can have great importance. Check out this article for more insight on this topic.

The fact that Moses is the only human ever to know God’s proper Name, and the fact that we can’t just go find him and ask him what it was is a deeply important part of Jewish theology. There is something mystically wondrous about God having one singular unknown name, but having a plethora of titles to be approached with. It means that no person is more entitled to speak to God than another; it means that we all can find a personal way to address God; it means that God isn’t limited by our human necessities to label everything and everyone.

The different titles we have for God is also an important part of Jewish monotheism. While each of the other gods of the ancient pantheon had their own name and their own job (meet Ra the sun god, Thor the thunder god, and Neptune the sea god), יהוה has many appellations, and many jobs, but remains singular. Other peoples needed to assign different names to each of their gods, but our God’s singularity encompasses all of these names.

So we can say that the presence of El Shaddai, El Roi, Elohim, and YHVH are the result of different people putting together different texts. Or perhaps – if we can allow our minds to surpass the need to rationalize everything in a scientifically logical manner – we might find that these names are part of the awesomeness of Jewish monotheism. One God with just one title leads to fighting in the name of God, and the possibility that other people are given limited access to God. One God with many titles ensures that all can approach God with equal access and no superiority.

May we all strive to find the Holiness in God’s name, and bring that holiness out in each other.

Shabbat Shalom!

Thursday’s Line-up of Jewy Things you should take a look at

1. The Crazies.The Ha’aretz Self Test on whether or not you are a Mideast Fanatic

2. The Badass. The Nine Most Badass Bible Verses. What about “Be fruitful and multiply”? It’s a command to get busy!

3. The Tasty. Jones Soda’s Channukah Offerings.
These ones come in four BRAND NEW flavours: Latke, Applesauce, Gelt, and Jelly-Doughnut. (I’ve always been a fan of the Pineapple Upside Down Cake)

4. The Revolutionary.Two Words: Che Herzl. (I’ve already ordered one for myself!)

5. The Happy. Muslim helps Jews attacked on New York subway.

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?

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.