by Arlene Chernow Outreach Specialist, Union for Reform Judaism
Ah, the memories!The smells, the food, the cookies, the craft projects, the family decorating together, the company coming over to celebrate, the smell of freshly cut tree branches while building the sukkah!
Wait. Did you say 'building the sukkah?' Weren't we talking about Christmas?
When adults share childhood holiday memories, the stories are similar regardless of which holidays they are recalling. The warm memories are about time: Time spent with family members, time spent making meals or cookies, time spent sharing a family meal.
Sukkot offers Jewish families an opportunity to create all of the warm family memories that are often associated with Christmas, Easter and other family holidays.
Consider the following ways to create great Sukkot memories:
There is a story told by Winston Lord of a speech he wrote for Henry Kissinger. "[Kissinger] called me in the next day and said, 'Is this the best you can do?' . . . this went on eight times, eight drafts; each time he said, 'Is this the best you can do?' So I went in there with a ninth draft, and when he . . . asked me that same question . . . I said, 'Henry, I've beaten my brains out . . . I know it's the best I can do. . . ..' He then looked at me and said, '. . . now I'll read it.'" 1
Doing one's best has come to be a cop out: something we might say, mealy-mouthed, to avoid improving ourselves. But as this story illustrates, it's actually a challenge--to commit one's faculties and abilities fully to the task at hand.
But what happens when our best isn't enough? At some point, we will say the wrong or hurtful word, we will duck our responsibility to others, we will be overwhelmed by the task before us. What then?
All the Jewish endings come together every year. Here we are at the last Shabbat of 5770. We are almost at the end of the Torah, with just five chapters left to go. The old year is coming to an end. In just a few days, we will come into the synagogue for Rosh Hashanah seeking guidance and direction as we embark on a new year. If, as I proposed when I began writing these passages on Deuteronomy months ago, the Torah is our GPS for life, where is this week's portion taking us? How many options are we given for this last leg of our journey?
The answer in Deuteronomy 30:11-14 is that we do not have to travel by plane or spacecraft, nor do we need to book a cruise. The blueprint for a new year is closer than we think:
Surely, this Instruction [mitzvah] which I enjoin upon you this day is not too baffling for you, nor is it beyond your reach. It is not in the heavens, that you should say, "Who among us can go up to the heavens and get it for us and impart it to us, that we may observe it?" Neither is it beyond the sea, that you should say, "Who among us can cross to the other side of the sea and get if for us and impart it to us, that we may observe it?" No, the thing is very close to you, in your mouth and in your heart, to observe it.
I love that phrase, "the thing is very close to you."But, I ask myself, "What does it mean for something to be close to us?"
by Linda K. Wertheimer (originally posted on Jewish Muse)
We say, chant, and sing most prayers in Hebrew in my Reform Jewish congregation in suburban Boston. And during High Holy Days, as a member of my temple chorus, I sing two overstuffed binders of prayers almost exclusively in Hebrew. Sometimes, it gives me a headache to sort out the meaning of prayers. And yet, I don't really wish for anything else. Judaism has a gift - that the world over, Jews pray in the same language.
My temple chorus began rehearsals this week for High Holy day services. I relaxed as we sang Avinu Malkenu, so well known to me that the words flow easily from my tongue. I tensed when we started working on Sh'ma Koleynu, the opening anthem for Erev Rosh Hashanah. I knew neither the tune nor the words. I gave myself a challenge: By the time High Holy Days starts, I want to understand this particular prayer.
I will learn to treasure it. I do not want to sing this opening piece hidden behind my chorus binder. Nor do I want to sing the prayer as if it were just words and notes on paper. Experience what could be a majestic beginning to the Days of Awe. That is my goal - and challenge.
At rehearsal, our chorus stumbled some as we first sight-read a version of Sh'ma Koleynu written by an unknown composer. The piece called for singing with movement and energy. We sang it slowly and unsurely at first. Then our cantor at Temple Isaiah in Lexington, Mass., sang it. Even with a cold hampering her, she sang soulfully. We tried again as a chorus, and our second attempt was more melodic. And yet, I still felt wooden as I sang. I knew the words, "Sh'ma Koleynu," meant "Hear our voices." But that was about all I understood.
"Success" is a song sung by the immigrant Jew, Tateh, in the Broadway play Ragtime. In the song, a father sings to his young daughter that "hope is in the air." They have journeyed to America, thenew Promised Land, so that he can give his daughter a better life. Tateh defines "success" as "doing well." But, he is soon disillusioned in the fetid tenements and uses his prayer shawl (tallit) just to keep his sick daughter warm. Tateh calls upon God, "Why have you brought us here?" His despair does not prevent him from telling his little girl that they will find the success they came for. And sure enough, out of the curses of tenement life, the immigrant Tateh emerges with the blessings of love, good fortune, and harmony, achieving the success he yearned for, by play's end.
Poised to enter the Promised Land, Moses describes in detail what is to happen when the wilderness immigrants reach their destination, in our Torah portion this week. Elaborate rituals of thanksgiving, and an abundant litany and choreography of curses and blessings abound. But, it is in his final and fourth oration, at the very end of our portion, that we see what Moses's immigrants and Tateh have in common. Tateh asks, "Why have you brought us here?" and he yearns for success. In the exact same way, our ancestors are told the "why" of their four-decade journey. They are informed that their time wandering through the wilderness had a purpose: "that you might know that I the Eternal am your God" (Deuteronomy 29:5). God proved to them that they were cared for by giving them food each day (Exodus 16:14-21) and clothing and shoes that never wore out (Deuteronomy 29:4). But now, about to enter their new Land, they need to know how to achieve success for themselves, and how to be the beneficiaries of the blessings and the promise of the Land.
I've been thinking about parnassah (right livelihood), because, once again, I don't have a clear path to follow. The Ba'al Shem Tov said that a person's parnassah is decided at Rosh HaShanah, but judged each and every day. It's in how you live, how you respond to the questions that are put to you, how you frame your responses that are judged everyday. I stand during my morning prayers, and with open hands and heart, ask, "What's next?"
This past summer, I was thrilled to be the Jewish Experience Educator/Song-leader for the BBYO Chapter Leadership Training Conferences, eight weeks of working with some very wonderful teens from all over the US and Canada. Eight weeks of thinking, "I've finally found work I'm meant to do - they're paying me to be me!", but now it's over. I have a few gigs lined up for the coming weeks, but then...an empty calendar?
So I got a sneak peek of Chana's post for a Healthy New Year (go and subscribe to her blog so you'll get to see it when it comes out!) and it got me to thinking about how the holidays seem to be all about internal checkups. What kind of person have I been, what kinds of actions have I taken against and for others this year?
So here are some of my suggestions for a healthier Elul, which might lead to a healthier year:
1. Get a physical. When was the last time you saw your doctor for a well-visit? Most of us are incredibly careful about taking our children in for their annual physical, usually egged on by the forms that we have to fill out for camps, sports and school. But once we outgrow the need for those forms, we sometimes skip out on the annual physical as well. Get checked out. Elul is a good time to schedule that checkup!
2. Get a new toothbrush. I always replace my toothbrush at Pesach, but obviously it needs to be replaced more often. When was the last time you did that? Worn-out toothbrushes can harbor bacteria, which you certainly don't need.
Tomorrow we will read Parshat D'varim the beginning of the last book of the Torah when Moses gathers the Israelites around him and shares with them his final words of advice before he dies. In that moment Moses reflects on how he did it, how he managed to lead 600,000 Israelites through the desert without them killing him or each other. And then he remember the critical moment when he asked God for guidance. He asked "Aicha - How can I possibly lead this people by himself, bear their burdens and bickering?" God said to Moses , "You can't, it would not be good for them and it would not be good for you, no one person, no one voice or opinion will suffice to lead this people." And God instructed Moses to choose wise, discerning and experienced leaders from the people and let them share the burden of leadership. Their first duties he explained were to decide justly the disputes between Jew and fellow Jew, to deal with the infighting that was overtaking the camp and the community. Because God saw that it was a cancer, like it the times of Korach, or Cain and Able, or Jacob and Esau and if left untreated would destroy this precious and chosen people.
On Tuesday we will read another book of torah, Lamentations; the woeful song of pain after the destruction of the First Temple and the dispersion of the Jewish people. Lamentations begins with the same questioning word Aicha/How?! But this time is God asking his people How did this happen? "How lonely sits the city [of Jerusalem], once great with people?! She that was great among the nations, has become like a widow."
It will be Tisha B'av, the 9th of Av, the day that commemorates the destruction of the first and second temple both of which our tradition teaches were brought down not by the Babylonians and the Romans to whom history gives much credit, but because of Jewish infighting, because of senseless hatred between Jews. Specifically the Talmud explains that it was because a certain man held a dinner party and an uninvited guest attended that the Temple was destroyed.
I will hear Parshat D'varim on Shabbat and Lamentations on Tuesday in Jerusalem. I am here to participate in the effort to stop the Rotem Conversion Bill from passing in the Knesset. How ironic it is that the bill was voted out of committee on the first of Av and will be brought for first reading just after Tisha b'Av (the 9th of Av), the fast day on which the Jewish world commemorates the loss of the two ancient Temples. One of the reasons our ancient Rabbis gave for their destruction was sinat chinam - the internal arguing of one Jew with another.
Rabbi David Saperstein and I are in Israel to represent our Reform Movement organizations that are working alongside the Conservative Movement, the Federations of North America and the Jewish Agency for Israel to stop the Conversion legislation. Our joint efforts have involved the URJ, ARZA, CCAR, WUPJ, WRJ, MRJ, and of course, the Israel Movement for Progressive Judaism and its Israel Religious Action Center.
So asked Senator Lindsey Graham to Solicitor General Elana Kagan, candidate for associate justice of the United States Supreme Court this past week.
Graham was about to launch into a "Q and A" about the extent to which the US Constitution and established law enables the United States to deal with suspects of terror, referring to the averted disaster on a Northwest airlines flight that safely landed in Detroit last Christmas Day. His opening question could have been a bit more coherent.
So with a deft use of aplomb and grace, Kagan launched into a statement trying address the various issues surrounding terrorism and the "law of war," but it was clear that she was answering a question that Senator Graham did not ask. So he stopped her in mid sentence and, in his inimitable style, asked, "I was just trying to ask you where you were on Christmas."
I think that her second response was more Kagan-esque that before. After apparently having found the right response and offering a few moments of self-deprecating laughter, she said, "You know, like all Jews, I was probably at a Chinese restaurant."
by Kate Bigam Press Secretary, Religious Action Center Originally posted in Ten Minutes of Torah and the RACBlog
Time for a quick history lesson: In 1655, the colony of New Amsterdam passed an ordinance forbidding Jewish residents to enlist in the colony's militia, ruling that Jews were instead required to pay a monthly contribution for this exemption from service. Insistent upon military service, Jewish colonist Asser Levy refused to pay and instead rallied others in petitioning for the right to enlist. Their petition, though initially rejected, was ultimately successful, and Levy and other Jewish residents were eventually permitted to serve alongside their fellow colonists. Levy, a proud veteran and prominent businessman, went on to become an advocate for religious equality and a defender of Jewish rights in the colony.
More than 350 years later, Jews worldwide continue to serve in the military in times of war and peace, risking - and sacrificing - their lives to protect their fellow countrymen. Thousands of Jews have been awarded medals for their wartime service; still thousands more have died in combat or been wounded. Jewish members of the United States Armed Forces fought in the Civil War, both World Wars, the Korean War, the Vietnam War, and the Persian Gulf War. They continue to serve today in Iraq and Afghanistan.
On the day of the first fruits, your Feast of Weeks, when you bring an offering of new grain to the Lord, you shall observe a sacred occasion; you shall not work at your occupations. -Numbers 28:26
Of the three pilgrimage festivals, Shavuot seems to have been the most difficult to translate into a meaningful holiday for Diaspora Jews. Pesach, with the seder, with its symbolic foods and powerful story; Sukkot, with its colorful symbols and observance - and both of these also have strong seasonal resonances of spring and fall (at least in the Northern Hemisphere) - while they may not be as central in Jewish consciousness as the High Holy Days, are nevertheless easy to relate to and remember. Poor Shavuot has been a harder sell. It doesn't have a clearly defined date in the Torah; it is only one day; it was, according to the Torah, completely tied to agriculture and to the Temple cult; thus, once the Temple was destroyed and our lives were not directly linked to the agriculture of Israel, Shavuot was orphaned. Fortunately, the rabbis figured out that the timing of the day fit with the timing of the revelation at Sinai, and, post-biblically, Shavuot took on the additional meaning of the Festival of the Giving of the Torah. This in turn led to the development, in the middle ages, of the "tikkun layl Shavuot," the custom of staying up into the night to engage in intensive study of Torah, as a kind of reliving of the revelation. And, since the prescribed texts for study in the tikkun represented the whole historical spectrum of traditional text, the tikkun was also a reaffirmation that all Torah learning, in all generations, originated at Sinai.
Debra Sparks has recast the story of Esther in modern day Madison, the home of the liberal University of Wisconsin The first letter of the names of the principal characters as well as their respective roles corresponds to those in the Story of Esther. Ellen, like Esther, is an innocent young secular Jew who reluctantly stands up for her people. Mose (Mordecai) is the Jewish voice of conscience and alarm who encourages and convinces Ellen to act. Alex (Ahashuerus), the Superintendent of Schools, is duped by one of his principals, Hyman (Haman), into approving regulations that will allow Hyman to fire Mose. Alex's wife, Valerie (Vashti), who he divorces plays a minor role. Valerie's falling out with Alex is essential to setting up his relationship with Ellen. The story's ending is predictable. But the plot and the treatment of the characters are intriguing. I prefer not to say more as to do would substantially diminish the interest of the reader.
In peaceful Shushan where the Jews were accorded dignity and respect it took one evil man, Haman, to cause them to be treated as pariahs. The first question the author puts before us is: "is it realistic to expect that today one person's actions could cause Anti-Semitism to rear its ugly head in a liberal college town"? My answer would be a resounding yes, based on having spent my entire life in a small liberal community. I welcome your responses to this question and imagine they might be both experiential and generational.
Being an Israeli, one of the hardest things to deal with, and as far as I know it is unique to Israel, is the seemingly unbelievable and immediate passage between sorrow and celebration, as portrayed in the pairing of Yom Hazikaron (Israel's Memorial Day) and Yom Ha'Atzmaut (Israel's Independence Day). The idea behind this is that the day before celebrating our independence, we are reminded of the price and sacrifice made by so many in order to keep us free.
If you've never been in Israel during those two days, nothing can possibly explain the experience and the kind of emotions that it evokes. After a full day of grief and remembrance, something that is very much relevant from a personal standpoint to literally every Israeli, we go rather abruptly to a truly joyous celebration of our freedom and achievements during Israel's Independence Day.
Those achievements are indeed very impressive. In just 62 years, Israel has managed to become a regional power, a modern, flourishing democracy in a region that has very little. In almost every possible measurement of world countries and societies, the Jewish state, especially when taking into consideration its small size, is at the top of the ladder alongside countries that have been around for centuries. When you think about the fact that all of this was done while facing constant security threats, some of them even starting literally from day one, the amazement and sense of awe is even greater.
On April 11 we observe Yom HaShoah, Holocaust Remembrance day. Apart from all the appropriate memorials and tributes, it is also a good time to examine the single word that now defines for us many of the singular and unspeakable events of the Second World War - Holocaust. Why? Because the word holocaust is an inaccurate description of what occurred, an insult to the memory of those who were murdered, and a theological affront to Jews.
Despite the fact that the English-language calendar indicates that Yom HaShoah translates as Holocaust Remembrance Day, the Hebrew word hashoah and the word holocaust (which comes from Greek) do not mean the same thing - not even close. HaShoah means a calamity or catastrophe, something devoid of the presence of God. It was this word, along with the word hurban (Hebrew for destruction), that was used by contemporary European Jews to describe what was happening all around them. Jewish documents and reports of that era also use the word hashoah as did the pre-Israel Jewish government, the Jewish Agency for Palestine. And it is the word used in Israel today to describe the events. But the word holocaust means something very different.
Proving that social media really is changing the way we interact, advocate and raise awareness, the United Nations and the Anne Frank Center USA are honoring Yom Ha'Shoah in a very new way - using Twitter.
Last week, the two organizations launched a Twitter campaign for students in memory of Anne Frank, one of the Holocaust's most recognized victims, whose compelling World War II diary is still widely used as reading and educational material.
The thrust of the campaign is this: Students are asked to "travel back in time" and write to Anne through 140-character tweets, essentially pretending to communicate with her from her family's hiding spot in Amsterdam. The project website asks, "If Anne Frank had had a way to receive Tweets while in hiding and could have been communicating in secret with other young people in the world about the persecution and hatred that her family and friends were experiencing, what messages of support would you have sent Anne? What would you have told Anne that you have learned from her life and experience?"
Kimberly Mann, Manager of the Holocaust and the UN Outreach Programme in the Department of Public Information's Outreach Division, said of the project, "This exercise is meant to help young people make a meaningful connection to the Holocaust through the words of a courageous young girl."
Tweets to Anne should be directed at @UnandHolocaust; the project will last until Yom Ha'Shoah, Holocaust remembrance Day, on April 11. So what would you tell Anne Frank? Let us know in the comments or include us in our tweet (@theRAC).read MORE
Three very interesting - and very different - stories in my inbox this morning remind me of the power of the story of the Israelites' journey from slavery to freedom. It is, as we are taught, a story for all times, and one that can inspire all peoples.
read MORE
On this Sabbath during Passover, we take a break from the sacred and the profane, from sin and sacrifice, from what fits and what is unfit; we set aside all things Leviticus and step into another world. This week's special portion carries within it one of the most luminous and awe-inspiring images in all of the Torah: Moses, cradled gently in the hand of God, emerges from the cleft of the rock to glimpse a sight of the Divine Presence just as the Glory of God passes by (Exodus 33:21-23).
This vision is one of the most unabashedly human representations of God as can be found anywhere in the Bible. God has a face, which Moses cannot see. God has a hand, which protects Moses until the moment when God's shining Presence has passed by. And God has a back, which Moses glimpses momentarily, though we have precious little description of what this vision of "God from behind" may have looked like.
Such anthropomorphisms--in this case, visions of God in human form--drive the classic interpreters of the Torah to distraction. They try desperately to recast these physical characteristics as metaphor and literary device rather than the touchable, tangible, actual descriptions of God's Presence which, we might--on their surface-- consider them to be. So strong is the pull of the second commandment not to create for ourselves a picture or an idol of God's physical form that the very allusion to any human characteristics becomes the source of endless consternation and debate.
A few weeks ago, I was reading an article (I wish I could remember where) in which a woman talked about how she used to treasure the long family seders of her youth. She had fond memories of being allowed to stay up late, and of listening to the adults singing the old Hebrew songs. Now that she is a mom, she said, she looks to create short, child-friendly seders for her own family. My heart sank. Didn't she read the words that she had just written? I see the same exact trend happening in my own family. We create pediatric seders with puppets and songs in English, and the kids can't wait for it to be over. Worse yet, they don't even recognize the traditional tunes to those end-of-seder songs. How could they recognize songs that we don't sing? We are changing the seder culture for our children in order to make it more fun, and it isn't working at all. read MORE
A little over a year ago, I was big into Twitter and wrote this post about what it is and some of the folks using it in the Jewish blogosphere. But then graduate school, the Union's Biennial convention and a few other things got in the way, and sadly, I gave up tweeting.
This week, I came back. No, not to tweet myself, but to follow those who started to Tweet the Exodus (@TweetTheExodus). Yes, you heard me correctly: "Tweet the Exodus." An incredibly creative group of rabbis has convened a complete cast of characters in the "tweetosphere" and is tweeting the story of our people's escape from Egypt. Cast members (among others and not in order of appearance) include @Slavedrivers, @The_Israelites, @PharoahOfEgypt, @Moshe_ben_Amram, @The10Plagues, @DaughterOfLevi, @Young_Miriam and, of course, @God_of_Israel. (Although the Almighty has yet to make an appearance in the drama, you can read what the Almighty thinks about it here).
As the God of Israel noted, the endeavor is getting some pretty amazing press, including a front-page article in yesterday's Wall Street Journal and this write-up in New York Magazine. Check it out for yourself at www.twitter.com. Not a tweeter? No worries...you can sign up just to follow along. And, while you're there, don't forget to follow the Union and the RAC.
As for me, I'm anxiously awaiting the cameo appearance late in the drama of my favorite character: Nachshon. Yes, I can wait a few weeks for this year's matzah, karpas and farfel sprinkled in sweetened coffee, but Nachshon? I don't know...how many tweets until @Nachshon enters from stage right?
Passover is rich in social justice themes.
It is impossible to study the story of our redemption and not feel compelled to
eradicate injustice in the world today. If your family or congregation is
looking for a way to engage in social justice advocacy and awareness while
remembering the story of our slavery in Egypt, we've got a few suggestions for
you.
Is your synagogue already planning something creative and
social justice-themed? Leave a comment a let us know!
Webinar: Social Justice Perspectives on Home Seders Is participating in the Seder ritual a liberating
experience for you? Join us on March 23, 2010, from 3-4:00pm EDT, for a
Passover webinar, "The Long Road to the Promised Land: Social Justice
Perspectives on Home Seders." Rabbi Sue Levi Elwell, URJ Worship
Specialist, and Naomi Abelson, URJ Social Action Specialist, will explore ideas
for deepening the experience and raising the consciousness of those gathered
around your Seder table. Learn
more and register now.
Host a Child Nutrition Seder Each year during the Seder we read, "Let all who are hungry come and eat." This
Pesach, the organized Jewish community -- including the Religious Action Center,
the Jewish Council for Public Affairs and Mazon -- want to help you raise
anti-poverty and anti-hunger awareness during your traditional Passover Seder.
You can:
read MORE
The time is upon us for freedom... for freeing ourselves from the bondage of slavery of winter
spring comes and we break free
Nisan comes and it's like the world opens up.
The waters part the world renews.
The new moon of Nisan is only 15 days from the moment of the Exodus...it takes only a few moments for freedom to come, but a lifetime to truly believe in it.
Experience the Exodus as you've never experienced it before - in every generation, we should feel as though we personally went forth from Egypt. If I had been there, I'm sure I would have tweeted it - http://twitter.com/TweetTheExodus - it will be amazing.
"Wondrous God, in ancient days You led our people from bondage to
freedom; redeem us now out of our exile from one another, making all
Israel one united people!" -From the liturgy for Rosh Chodesh
Tomorrow is Rosh Chodesh Nisan, the beginning of the Hebrew
month of Nisan. Rosh Chodesh, which literally means "head of the
month," is the holiday that marks the beginning of each month in the
Jewish calendar.
Many communities meet to pray and celebrate Rosh Chodesh together each month. One such group is the Women of the Wall,
a progressive prayer group that meets at the Western Wall (Kotel) in
Jerusalem. You may have been following our coverage of the recent
events surrounding the Women of the Wall. In late 2009 Nofrat Frenkel was arrested for wearing a prayer shawl, or tallit, while praying at the Wall,
and in January 2010, Anat Hoffman, who serves as director of the Israel
Religious Action Center and leader of Women of the Wall, was interrogated and fingerprinted due to the actions of this group.
Below the jump, you can find more information on the Jewish rituals associated with Rosh Chodesh, prayer resources to hold your own Rosh Chodesh service, and ways that you can get involved in supporting the Women of the Wall. If you're on Twitter, follow @womenofthewall and #kotelwomen tomorrow to track their t'filot in Jerusalem!
Believe it or not, the impetus for the creation
of the National School Lunch Program in 1946 was that malnourishment
was rendering large numbers of young men ineligible to join the
military. When President Truman signed the 1946 National School Lunch
Act, the preface said that
the creation of the program was a "measure of national security, to
safeguard the health and well-being of the Nation's children." (Can you
imagine anyone saying that today?). Today, Child Nutrition Programs are
a crucial financial safety net for over 31 million students who receive
breakfast, lunch, and an afterschool snack during the school year, as
well as during the summer. These programs all fall under the Child
Nutrition Reauthorization Bill, which is coming before Congress this
year to be reviewed and refunded.
The depth and breadth of hunger in the United States can be easily conveyed by statistics: 17.6 million food insecure households, making up 49.1 million people. A record of
nearly 38 million people relied on Supplemental Nutrition Assistance
Program (SNAP) benefits, formerly known as food stamps, at last count.
These numbers are even starker for children: the food insecurity rate
for households with children is nearly double the overall average.
Feeding America, which operates more than 200 food banks and soup
kitchens across the country, found that 38% of those they served were children under age 18, and four out of five food insecure families served have children under 18.
The supernatural is real to a child, especially to one looking for answers to family secrets or unexplained attitudes of his parents.
When my grandfather Citron was alive, he conducted the major holiday celebrations. I vividly remember 1925 Passover when I was about seven. The Citrons were seated around a large oblong table. My grandfather was at the head, my father, at the opposite end. Next in order were my grandmother, Aunt Marie, Aunt Ada, Uncle Uri, Lotte Lafee Kellner, cousin Jessie, my mother, my sister Ula, and my new brother Bob, just one month old, and finally, an empty chair with a place setting for Elijah.
The Passover table was set with white, initialed linen napkins, water, and initialed crystal wine glasses, matzos, candles, and fresh flowers. The tantalizing aromas still almost overpower me. The serving, as in the past was very, very slow. The telling of the Passover story had to come first, terribly long but intended to engage everyone, especially the children, to participate in reading and singing. We children were at first fidgety but finally quieted down.
My family is not gluten-free. But we have several close friends who are. So when I posted earlier this month that I'd be starting my hamantaschen baking, one of those friends asked if I'd be making any gluten-free delicacies.
But I offered to come over to her house and try to make them with her (because I thought it would make a good blog post, I'll admit it)...and so we did.
We used this recipe, which I thought seemed to be the most resembling regular hamantaschen.
I've never baked gluten-free, but I have tasted many of my friend's results. I know how much work goes into getting these baked goods to come out right, and how generally important the directions are. So when it says to "coat" the dough in (GF) flour, it really means it.
Now that we've gotten past a particular heart-and-candy themed holiday, I wanted to rise to the challenge posed by my friend and fellow blogger, Phil Setnik:
"I challenge you this way: Take back your celebrations to your bosoms and return them to what they are supposed to be. Learn what the days mean, celebrate and commemorate them as they should be."
I'm working on a separate post on how it feels like being a Jewish parent sometimes means playing a game of Holiday match-up. I don't want to say "Chanukah is just like Christmas" or anything, but there are moments when it can be helpful to say to my 6 year old: "Remember, we get to wear costumes on Purim."
Regardless, Phil's challenge is a just and fair one. What is the need to submit to a holiday named for a saint if there is a Jewish holiday that fills a similar purpose?
In the deep cold of January, with winter's short days and long nights, along comes Tu B'Sh'vat to remind us that no matter how miserable we may feel, spring really is just around the corner.
Tu B'Sh'vat, the Jewish "New Year of the Trees," may make agricultural sense in the Middle East, but what is one to make of it in Larchmont?
A sunny winter day with the temperature climbing past 40 seemed like a good time to find out. Camera in hand, I set out for a walk around the garden.
It's the end of another (secular) year, and the end of decade as well, so of course, our inboxes and Google Readers are overflowing with "Ten 10 lists." Because we at the RAC are nothing if not "meta," we thought we'd share our List of the Top 10 Top 10 Lists.
Like others, Grist decided to go a step beyond a simple "Best of 2009" list by covering the aughts in their entirety. Starting with the greening of Paris Hilton (among other celebs), the list takes a more serious tone when it lists the environmental movement's newfound climate focus and American politicians' newfound willingness to talk about climate as a serious legislative issue as among the top environmental stories of the decade. With the snappy catchphrase "Local gets vocal, organic goes manic," it also includes a shout-out to the sustainable food movement, which the Reform Movement embraced this year at our Biennial Convention.
Included in TIME's "Top 10 of Everything of 2009" compilation is this gem of a list that includes year-toppers titled things like "Secularism of Bust." Among them is "Keeping the Faith-Based," highlighting President Obama's decision to "create the new Presidential Advisory Council on Faith-Based and Neighborhood Partnerships to weigh in on matters ranging from funding of social-service and poverty-alleviation programs to the more controversial issue of abortion reduction." The RAC's Director, Rabbi David Saperstein, was named by president Obama to serve on this council.
This list of the world's advancements in women's rights tackles issues in the Unites States, the UK, Bolivia, Nigeria, Cameroon, and Yemen, among others. But as blogger Lorena Espinoza Peña writes on Feministing.com, "As important as it is to celebrate victories surrounding women's rights and health, it's also important to acknowledge when there's still much more work to be done."
by Rabbi David Saperstein, Rev. Geoffrey Black & Rev. Linda Jaramillo (Originally published by On Faith atwashingtonpost.com)
Many December holidays - Christmas, Hanukkah, and Kwanzaa alike - involve the lighting of candles. This symbolizes the spirit of peace, hope, and new beginnings, illuminating the winter days and warming the soul.
The festive lights also recall for us the time, 20 years ago, when the National Coalition to Abolish the Death Penalty (NCADP) and the National Interreligious Task Force on Criminal Justice (NITFCJ) launched a year-long campaign called "Lighting the Torch of Conscience." The purpose of the campaign, later joined by Amnesty International USA, was to mobilize faith communities and encourage local involvement in the collective effort to end capital punishment.
"Lighting the Torch of Conscience" began with a meeting at the Martin Luther King, Jr. Center for Nonviolent Social Change in Atlanta. Broad and diverse participants, including Presbyterians, Jews, Muslims, Catholics, Southern Baptists, Quakers, Mennonites, Unitarians, and Methodists, signed a statement following the meeting, which read in part, "As we light this torch of conscience, we commit ourselves and our faith communities to do everything within our power to abolish the death penalty. We will use our moral leadership to change attitudes through education and engagement in faithful witness, service, and advocacy toward that end."
Question: Why do we need to use a candle - the Shamash (helper) candle - when we can just as easily use a match to light the Menorah?
It has to do with the "Way of the Long Pole."
Some background: Back in Biblical times, in the outer chamber of the ancient Jerusalem Temple, the Menorah stood in a special area called the heichal (sanctuary). The Menorah was a five-foot, seven branched candelabra of pure gold. Every morning, a kohen (priest, member of the Israelite clergy) filled the menorah's lamps with the purest olive oil; in the afternoon, he would climb a three-step foot-ladder to kindle the menorah's lamps. The flames burned through the night, symbolizing the light of the Holy One radiating throughout Israel and the world.
A year ago, the screaming in the car began. "Speed up Daddy! Go faster! I have to see what it is! Gooooooooooooooooooooo!" "Isabelle... ISABELLE!! Look over there! What is that?!?" "YES! YES! YES! I can't believe I saw it! AWESOME!!"
It started (as so many things in our house do) with a sullen comment by a grumpy teenager. Isabelle stated (with the absolute authority that only 14 year olds can muster) that nobody ever came to our state. People only moved away.
"Not true," my wife countered, "We see people from other places all the time."
To prove her point, the two of them began looking for out of state license plates on cars. While this didn't necessarily prove people LIVED in our neck of the woods, it would certainly show that they came (or at least came through) here.
by Rabbi Paul Kipnes (Originally posted on Or Am I?)
8 Blogs for 8 Nights of Chanukah Blog #1: Oil and the Secret of the Jew
Question: Why did Antiochus' army ruin all the oil in the Jerusalem Temple?
When Antiochus' Assyrian-Greeks entered the Jerusalem Temple, they contaminated all the oils that were in the Temple. One would expect them to plunder the Temple's gold and silver, the precious stones, as is the custom of warriors -- yet the Talmud makes no mention of this type of pillaging. What possessed the Assyrian-Greeks to single-mindedly go about desecrating the oil, and with such thoroughness that it was only through a miracle that one jug was left untouched?
by Rabbi Warren Stone Temple Emanuel, Kensington, MD
Sixty-six years ago, on October 2, 1943, when Jews were celebrating the High Holidays, Hitler ordered the arrest and deportation of Denmark's 8,000 Jews. Danish Christian citizens were outraged and courageously rescued almost the entire Jewish population. In an act of collective resistance, the Danes ferried their fellow Jewish citizens on small boats across the sea to safety in Sweden. Over 99% of Danish Jews survived the Holocaust.
Thirty years ago, I went to the bank of the waters where Jews were rescued by Danes who transported them by sea from the Danish Island of Zealand over the Oresund Staits into Sweden. The moment brought tears to my eyes, particularly after traveling throughout Europe, visiting the camps and feeling acutely the demise of European Jewry.
Today just one day before the world Jewish celebration of Chanukah I returned to the port and remembered the story of the rescue of Danish Jewry. I gave an interview to Denmark's most popular Sunday radio station equivalent to our NPR thanking the Danish people for this act in 1943 and for their sponsoring the COP15 talks. Denmark has been a visionary leader in environmental activism.Today I will take a boat with UN delegates to visit one of their major wind farms. I will also take a moment in reflection and prayer to remember this gravely challenging time in our Jewish history and the courage of the Danish Christians in rescuing the Danish Jews.
I have something to admit: My family thinks Thanksgiving is a big let-down.
I realize this is about as close to blasphemy as you can get in American culture. Give me a chance to explain, and to offer a solution.
Facing the hard cold facts, my family and I do *A LOT* of Jewish celebrating through the year. From Passover (which is at the top of our list) to Sukkot, and all the various moments in-between like Rosh Hashanah, Chanukah, Shavuot and even Tu B'Shvat) we typically have a special celebration almost once a month. Then there's the big daddy of Jewish holidays: Shabbat. It should be pretty obvious to anyone who is on this site why THAT'S a big deal at our house. Finally, let's not overlook Havdallah, the other dessert holiday.
Each of these celebrations comes with a special meal, and most have special foods associated with them. Each celebration also has it's own significance, and rituals that go along with it. There are always candles to light, blessings to be said. There are moments to be remembered - defeats to live down, mistakes to learn from, and triumphs to warm our hearts. There are stories to tell - from Torah, from Talmud, from Midrash both ancient and new. We Jews have invented rituals both silly and somber to mark these times; parables and dinner table plays appropriate to children and the child in all of us; readings from our texts and our lives that catch in our throats. We choke down horseradish, lick honey off the covers of books, beat the person next to us with green onions, stick raisins in our challah, and set off smoke alarms frying all manner of things in oil.
It's hard to believe that the holiday of Thanksgiving is nearly upon us. Just one more week!
Thanksgiving is such a wonderful American holiday. It's simple - say thank you for the blessings in life and share a meal with those you love.
But often, the meal takes over, stress of family and needing a "picture perfect" celebration cause a little fraying at the edges. Creating an atmosphere of gratitude can be tricky when you're just trying to keep your 3-year-old from pulling the tablecloth off the table, don't you think?
I have created 3 different Thanksgiving services, based loosely on the idea of the Passover seder. After all, one good holiday centered around the table deserves another, doesn't it?
When JanetheWriter reminded her friends on Facebook, 'tis the season to be satiated with the songs of the season, I promised her I would tell my favorite White Christmas story.
When this happened, the United Nations had already voted for the establishment of a Jewish state in what had been the British mandate of Palestine, but the state of Israel had not yet come into being. I was a senior in high school, teaching Hebrew to the second graders at the Euclid Avenue Temple in Cleveland. As the holiday season approached, the head of the Hebrew program, Sara Palay, asked me to write a couple of songs for the faculty Chanukah party, and I complied. I have totally forgotten one of the two lyrics I penned, but I still remember most of the other one:
I'm dreaming of a green Eretz Just like King David used to know, Where the Negev's bloom Dispels the gloom That started two thousand years ago. I'm dreaming of a green Eretz With every candle that I light....
You shall live in booths seven days; all citizens in Israel shall live in booths, in order that future generations may know that I made the Israelite people live in booths when I brought them out of the land of Egypt, I the Lord you God. -Leviticus 23:42-43
The day before Sukkot I was walking down the street in Jerusalem, and kept having to make detours around the "construction sites" of sidewalk sukkot being erected by restaurant workers. In general, Sukkot offers a wonderful case study in the successful Zionist transformation of Judaism from religion to culture. Sukkot are ubiquitous - on roofs, balconies, courtyards, and parking lots. There are huge institutional ones at hotels and kibbutzim and yeshivot, modest family models, and tiny ones built by falafel stand owners to allow their customers to perform the mitzvah of dwelling in the sukkah (usually interpreted as eating there). Indeed, the sidewalk sukkot of Jerusalem are a classic case of the interface of religion and capitalism: if you operate a kosher restaurant and want to keep your religiously observant clientele during the week of Sukkot, you need to provide a sukkah or they'll patronize the competition.
In the seventh month, Ishmael son of Nethaniah son of Elishama, who was of royal descent and one of the king's commanders, came with ten men to Gedaliah son of Ahikam at Mizpah; and they ate together there at Mizpah. Then Ishmael son of Nethaniah and the ten men who were with him arose and struck down Gedaliah son of Ahikam son of Shaphan with the sword and killed him, because the king of Babylon had put him in charge of the land. -Jeremiah 41:1-2
There are four traditional fast days associated with the fall of Judah to the Babylonians: the 10th of Tevet (beginning of the siege of Jerusalem), the 17th of Tammuz (breaching of the walls), the 9th of Av (fall of the Temple), 3rd of Tishrei (murder of Gedaliah). Only the 9th of Av is a full 25 hour fast like Yom Kippur; the others are only from sunup to sundown. With the re-establishment of a sovereign Jewish state these fasts have become less significant for many people; indeed, most Israelis pretty much ignore them, and except for the 9th of Av are generally not even aware that they are occurring. Personally I have never been able to find much meaning in the three minor ones and haven't observed them. I do feel that it is important to clarify that however wonderful the state of Israel is, it is not yet the messianic state: we still have a lot of work to do before redemption; therefore, I do try to observe the 9th of Av as a symbol and a reminder of that belief.
My father recently finished the Baatz book and has now passed it along to me, highly recommended. You may recall that I first mentioned this particular book in a blog post I wrote last year at about this time. That was shortly after he and I - as we do each year - spent a bit of time on Yom Kippur afternoon browsing in the Barnes and Noble near my parents' congregation.
Our first year in Chicago, we weren't able to put up a sukkah (for a variety of reasons). But rather than let the holiday just pass us by, I decided to put up an indoor sukkah. I searched all over for some guidelines - but really, no one had written articles or talked too much about this concept. So...I went to my favorite sukkah supply store and I picked up some items that seemed like they'd work.
Shiny garlands of fake leaves, imitation grapes, pears, apples, and a few other rustic looking fall decorations went into my cart. Oh, and of course, stars! One of the primary rules about a sukkah is that you have to be able to see the stars through the roof. That would be a very very bad thing to happen to my kitchen...so instead I decided on some shiny star garlands and also some fluffy stars to hang.
And now that we put up a "real" sukkah outdoors (which we have been doing for a while now), we still continue to put up the indoor one as well. It is a fun family tradition that my kids really love.
by Rachel Cohen Senior Legislative Assistant, RAC (Originally published in Ten Minutes of Torah)
It is only a few days after Yom Kippur, and already another season is about to end. Not for us as Jews or North Americans, but for the earth. Today begins one of the most joyous weeks of the Jewish year as we celebrate the harvest, and mark the end of the agricultural season, with the festival of Sukkot. And just as Sukkot ends, on Shemini Atzeret, we pray for an abundant rainy season following the dry summer months and enjoy the gifts of the earth - fruit, grains, and water - with which we are blessed once again.
We call ourselves the "People of the Book," yet our calendar and our celebrations remind us that we have always been a people of the land. Greeting cards and gifts aside, the most important holidays in traditional Judaism have always been the three harvest festivals: Passover, Shavuot, and Sukkot. These holidays each mark not only an historical event (the Exodus, the giving of the Ten Commandments, and the wandering of the Israelites through the desert) but also a pivotal point in the agricultural calendar (the beginning of spring, the new planting season, and the last harvest before the winter rains). Every year at these critical moments we stop to take stock of where we are - in relation to our earth above all else - give thanks for what we have, and carefully consider our next steps.
The days between the High Holidays are a time of reflection, apology, prayer and introspection for the Jewish people. While Shabbat affords us this opportunity each week, I feel like the Shabbat between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, Shabbat Shuvah, is all the more special and powerful. So last Friday night I joined more than 100 young adults (both in age and in spirit) at Temple Shaarey Tefila for Shabbat Unplugged. This service is a celebration of Shabbat, bringing together people of different backgrounds, creeds and orientations to sing, celebrate and be together as a community to welcome the Sabbath bride.
I take the community aspect of this service very seriously and feel it is perhaps the most important aspect of my Shabbat. That is why I got up early on Saturday morning to travel to Congregation Beth Elohim in Park Slope to help this community--a community of people from different backgrounds, creeds and orientations--enjoy and sanctify the Shabbat.
These are the festivals of the Lord, holy convocations, which you shall proclaim at their proper time. -Leviticus 23:4
One of the things that many immigrants from traditional backgrounds learn to appreciate about living in Israel is the fact that the "second day of the holiday for the Diaspora" is not observed here. So, for example in the Diaspora, the eighth day of Sukkot, Shmini Atzeret, a full holiday, is doubled, and its second day (i.e., the 9th day of Sukkot) observed as Simchat Torah. In Israel, it is only one day, also observed as Simchat Torah, so Israel and the Diaspora celebrate Simchat Torah a day apart. Pesach is only seven days in Israel instead of eight, and there is only one seder. Most people find this a great relief (liberation!), but it causes havoc with in-law relations: instead of tonight at our place and tomorrow at yours, we have to alternate years. This is not so simple.
The Festival of Sukkot is underrated. It suffers from its placement in the calendar. It feels burdensome to have such an important festival so soon after the High Holy Days. It is so beautiful, yet it seems redundant, anticlimactic.
Some believe that it was the Festival of Sukkot that inspired the Puritans of Massachusetts to celebrate their Thanksgiving Day. While giving thanks is a fitting conclusion to a succession of sacred days, Sukkot is more than just a biblical "Thanksgiving."
Rabbi Hayon reminds us of the seasoned wisdom of Ecclesiastes. The book tells us about the changing nature of life. We are reminded that our condition is always precarious. We see the link between our insecurity and the sukkah.
Like a giant tent spread atop three tall pillars that support it and give it shape, the Jewish year is held up by the Shalosh R'galim, the "three pilgrimage festivals." Pesach commemorates the joy of liberation and freedom, Shavuot acknowledges the power of God's word revealed in Torah, and Sukkot reminds Israel of nights spent in fragile huts during its wilderness sojourn.
Pesach and Shavuot celebrate spiritual fulfillment, times when God anticipated Israel's needs and acted bountifully and graciously to fulfill them. We were granted political and national fulfillment on Pesach, when we were led out of the painful grip of slavery. Atop Sinai, we were given the wisdom of Torah, and we celebrate its spiritual and intellectual fulfillment on Shavuot. But Sukkot, in contrast, does not celebrate substantive fulfillment at all. Instead, it acknowledges the insecurity and uncertainty of desert nights spent in frail temporary shelters.
A comment made in 2007 by Rabbi Label Lam on torah.org got me thinking about the Days of Awe in a whole new way. He states that it's NOT about looking back or thinking about our actions over the past year, in order to make amends and repent. Rabbi Lam points out that Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur focus on looking ahead to the coming year and making a committment about what you plan to do with that time.
In other words, it's a job interview. And guess what? By cosmic coincidence (which I don't believe in) it's interview season for me.
He will take us back in love; He will cover up our iniquities, You will hurl all our sins into the depths of the sea.
-Micah 7:19
One of our main early sources regarding customs among Ashkenazic Jewry is a book by the Maharil, (Rabbi Jacob Moellin) who lived in Germany around 1400. His book is the first documented source we have for the custom of Tashlich on Rosh Hashanah, which is now widespread throughout the Jewish world (though mainly in Ashkenazic communities). He describes walking down to a river after lunch on Rosh Hashanah in order to fulfill the above verse, "to hurl our sins into the depths..." He makes a point of saying that one should not take food along to throw to the fishes for the fun of it, as this might lead to the violation of the restrictions of the holiday. It would seem that the custom was not a new invention by him, and that indeed, he felt constrained to warn people against what probably was common behavior - taking a walk along the riverbank after lunch with the kids, tossing challah crumbs to the fish - perhaps a way to relax between many hours spent in synagogue. Beyond the verse from Micah (which is basically the only "liturgy" for the ceremony), he suggests further justification for the practice: the Torah reading for the second day of Rosh Hashanah is Genesis 22, the binding of Isaac. (It is the reading for the first day in most North American Reform Congregations.) There is a midrash that Satan tried various methods to prevent Abraham from trying to obey God's command; among these was to take the form of a river blocking Abraham's path. Abraham and Isaac continued walking, until the water was up to their necks, at which point God intervened. Hence, a connection between the Rosh Hashanah Torah reading and bodies of water.
The story of Abraham and Isaac is said by rabbis to present to them one of their greatest challenges, particularly for Rosh Hashanah. No doubt this is true. However it need not be so. There are a number of important principles which help explain the story and its import.
First it is useful to recall that just before Abraham is to be "tested" by God, Abraham is told by God, "...it is through Isaac that offspring shall be continued for you ..." [Genesis 21:12]. Clearly God has made it plain to Abraham that Isaac will bring forth the future progeny of Abraham. It should be clear then that Abraham knows at the deepest level directly from God [not even an Angel of God] that Isaac will not perish, for God has stated it clearly to him, just before his fateful trip with Isaac to Mt. Moriah.
Years ago, there was a young man in our congregation who had a terrible accident. He had extensive brain damage, and it was weeks before we know whether he would ever regain consciousness. He went through months of grueling therapy in the hope that someday he would fully recover. Every few weeks I would call up his mother to ask about his progress, and every time I would ask the same question: "Is John ready to take an aliyah? When he's ready, we'd love to honor him." And each time, her answer was the same. "He's making progress, but he's just not ready yet".
Winter turned into spring and spring turned into summer, and on July 1st, our new rabbi started. Like any new rabbi, he was nervous about the High Holidays, and as chair of the Religious Committee, it was my job to help him. I jumped into the effort with zeal, telling him about our minhag and lining up people for all of the honors. By the beginning of August, all the honors were filled - all except one, that is. I still hadn't chosen someone to read the opening reading on Rosh Hashanah and to light the candles and say Shehechiyanu. The rabbi was frantic - how could we risk not having someone for the very opening of the holidays. "Don't worry", I told him, "at the last minute the right name will occur to me".
Rabbi Hayon gives us the insightful interpretation that Abraham is willing to sacrifice his future as a means of turning to God and of continuing his own personal growth. And while Abraham does grow from this experience, in truth, it is not his future he is willing to sacrifice but that of his son Isaac. It is instructive that Abraham argues for the citizens of Sodom and Gomorrah but not for his own son, just as we have the occasional tendency to treat complete strangers better than our own loved ones. In the passages we read, it is God who stops the action before it becomes a slaughter; and it is God, not Abraham, who points out that Isaac is Abraham's "beloved one."
The Akeidah is a statement not only on what we may be willing to do with our own lives for a higher purpose, but also on what we are not authorized to do with someone else's life. Perhaps child sacrifice was a cultural norm, even playing a role in early Israelite society; but we can see this episode as a mandate on the Deity's part that such action is unacceptable. And we can relate this to Rosh HaShanah by letting it serve as a reminder that all we can control is our own behavior and our own lives; and even those are not entirely within our control. If during these Days of Awe we recognize our struggle to control ourselves, how can we possibly control others? We must accept the limited extent of our abilities to determine the future for those we love.
Do I contradict myself? Very well, then I contradict myself, (I am large, I contain multitudes.) -Walt Whitman, "Song of Myself"
One principle that remains reliably true throughout the Bible is that the fruitful production of children is evidence of God's love and providence for favored and faithful humans. The birth of healthy children--especially to mothers and fathers who had despaired of their fertility or potency--is proof positive of God's attention and care. The child's arrival shows his parents that God desires to grant them a future, lengthening their legacy and their name long into the future.
Certainly, the conception and birth of our forefather Isaac is a prime example of this phenomenon; the annunciation of his birth to his withered and barren parents Abraham and Sarah is so preposterous that it evokes more laughter than gratitude. Nevertheless, the miracle baby is born, weaned, and raised, and we share his parents' delight that through Isaac the line of Abraham and Sarah will be perpetuated, giving life to the entire future of the Jewish people.
Rabbi Hayon writes compellingly about the responsibility that goes alongside inclusion in a community. Another perspective comes to us from the second of the two combined parashiyot, Vayeilech.Vayeilech begins with Moses's acknowledgment that he is not going to accompany the Israelites into the Promised Land. Instead, he will die on the far side of the Jordan, and Joshua will lead the people forward.
This is a difficult, even heart-rending part of the story. How is it that Moses, who led the Israelites to freedom, cannot lead them to the Promised Land? Whatever Moses did wrong with the rock (Numbers 20:9-13), the punishment seems disproportionate to the crime. Certainly, being part of a community involves responsibility, and leading a community even more so; but Moses's death seems fundamentally unfair.
This Hebrew month of Elul invites us into a period of preparatory self-reflection and contemplation, calling us to center our thoughts on our own t'shuvah. Elul culminates in the observance of S'lichot, a time of penitential prayer and meditation when we ready ourselves for the spiritual labor of the Days of Awe. This observance (which will occur on this Shabbat) guides us toward an examination of our inner selves and, in turn, provides a foretaste of the High Holy Days themselves.
This week brings a preview of another sort as well. Our scheduled Torah portion, Parashat Nitzavim/Vayeilech, offers a bit of textual foreshadowing: its words contain the Torah reading we will hear in our synagogues on Yom Kippur morning. The words of the portion are already familiar to many of us:
You stand this day, all of you, before the Eternal your God--you tribal heads, you elders, and you officials, all the men of Israel, you children, you women, even the stranger within your camp, from woodchopper to water drawer--to enter into the covenant of the Eternal your God, which the Eternal your God is concluding with you this day . . . not with you alone, but both with those who are standing here with us this day before the Eternal our God and with those who are not with us here this day. (Deuteronomy 29:9-14)
Just a few days after this post appeared on the Union's blog, I came home to find a letter in my mailbox from the senior rabbi at my new congregation inviting me to bless the candles at Kol Nidre services on Sunday evening, September 27th.
Although I know that my oneg Shabbat experience of a few weeks ago and the appearance of this letter are two unrelated events, in light of the latter, I can't help but feel a bit sheepish at having related my slice-of-life experience regarding the former. In any event, I have accepted the rabbi's invitation and so for the first time in many, many years, I'll be someplace other than in my home congregation for Kol Nidre.
Kol Hakavod to Congregation B'nai
Israel, Bridgeport,
CT, who aunched a new blog on 1 Elul.
Entitled 'Sh'ma Koleinu - Hear Our Voices', it offers
inspirational thoughts, poetry, spiritual reflections and practices, and
holistic approaches to a centered life. Clergy, Educators and congregants will contribute, comment and reflect on the daily posts. Here is a taste of the blog from 6 Elul. Read more at http://shmakoleinu-hearourvoices.blogspot.com/
For years I was very flexible about my celebration of Rosh Hashanah. If I could,
I spent it with family. If that wasn't convenient, I found other ways to observe
the holiday. Some years I went to services, some years I didn't. What really
mattered was eating something sweet and reflecting on the past and on the
future.
One year I was on vacation in Sweden with my father and
sister. On Erev Rosh Hashanah we were driving back to Stockholm from a weekend
trip, and we stopped at a rest area. We couldn't find apples and honey so we
celebrated with a plate of cookies. The next morning we found the main synagogue
in Stockholm and showed up for services. We didn't anticipate that the prayer
books would be in Swedish and Hebrew, and we had some trouble following along,
but we felt that we had done something to observe the day before resuming our
sightseeing.
as the new moon Elul approaches the days begin to grow shorter as the new moon Elul approaches our minds begin to wander toward the healing breaths of the days of awe.
each day dawns beckoning me to examine elaborate consider remark pay attention get ready!
my heart moves toward the days of awe. am i ready? have i asked the questions? forgive me pardon me raise me up renew me refresh me bring my soul back home so that i may fill myself up
by Steve Friedman and Maxine Sukenik (A debate originally published inReform Judaism magazine)
YES by Steve Friedman, immediate past president of Central Reform Congregation in St. Louis, Missouri
No Tickets = No Barriers.
After I moved back to St. Louis from Houston 25 years ago, I knew I didn't want to rejoin the synagogue I'd attended growing up. In the midst of visiting different temples, I learned that I could attend High Holiday services at Central Reform Congregation (CRC) without worrying about tickets. I was glad there was a place open to someone like me who was searching for a new spiritual home...and after I attended CRC's High Holiday services, which were so meaningful and spiritually fulfilling, I knew I'd found one. Many others have found a home at Central Reform the same way.
By JanetheWriter
Tuesday was Yom HaShoah. In addition to attending services, I used Facebook throughout the day to share my memories as a witness to history.
At 9:22 p.m. on Monday, I wrote, "JanetheWriter is remembering her visit to Auschwitz and Birkenau -- July 1, 2007 -- and recalling so many experiences and images from that unforgettable day." You can read a bit more about it here.
On Tuesday morning at 11:31 a.m., I was "remembering Chaim Glasberg whose name is painted on the wall of the Pincus Synagogue in Prague." I've written about Chaim Glasberg on this blog before, and you can read about him here.
And from the day on which you bring the omer offering - the day after the sabbath - you shall count off seven weeks. They must be complete: you must count until the day after the seventh week - fifty days; then you shall bring an offering of new grain to the Lord.
-Leviticus 23:15-16
As principal of a Jewish school in the US, I always felt that once we hit Tu Beshvat, the year is over - there is no time or energy left to do anything except cope with the succession of holidays, get ready for the end of the year, and work on the plans, hiring, etc. for next year. Any kind of continuity, of concentration, of orderly instruction is pretty much shattered by one special day after another, with their associated preparations. And if that is true in the microcosm of the Jewish school in the Diaspora, imagine what goes on in the Jewish state!
By Marge Eiseman I've always wondered why the Torah reading about the Exodus didn't occur at the time of year when we celebrate Passover. And shouldn't we be reading about receiving the Ten Commandments at Shavu'ot? Doesn't that make more sense? Why are we in the midst of all the rules for the Levites and how to properly offer sacrifices, when it's time for us to act "as if" we were there at the plagues and the preparation for crossing the sea?
Like many of you, I am a regular reader of Ten Minutes of Torah--Reform Voices of Torah on Mondays, Mishnah Day on Tuesdays, Israel Connections on Wednesday, Delving in Liturgy on Thursdays and the Jewish World and Social Action on Fridays...regular as clockwork. (I still miss Kevin Proffitt's Tuesday essays about the Jewish American experience, but that's a post for another time.)
Last Wednesday, the last day of Passover, I attended the festival shacharit and yizkor service in my home congregation, where I still daven from time to time. When it was time for the Torah service, Rabbi Bravo invited the congregation to the bema, where we passed the scroll one to the next before she opened it, we recited the blessing, and she prepared to read. As she did so, she told of rolling quickly to the right spot earlier in the week, as a few b'nai mitzvah students looked on.
"How can you find it so fast?" one asked. "It's easy," she said she told them. "You'll see."
The ocean sounds, O Lord, the ocean sounds its thunder, the ocean sounds its pounding. Above the thunder of the mighty waters, more majestic than the breakers of the sea is the Lord, majestic, on high. -Psalm 93:3-4
Many Israelis spend Pesach in Sinai (despite both the irony of returning to Egypt for Pesach, and the government warnings of terror attacks). That's always seemed a bit extreme to us, but this year we did repeat an adventure of several years ago, transporting our seder to a beachfront kibbutz guest house south of Haifa. Not Sinai and not the Red Sea, but plenty of sand and sea nevertheless. With two other families we prepared and brought with us all the symbols and the foods, and organized the seder in one of our rooms (after a bit of furniture-moving). The circumstances forced us to keep food and utensils simple, releasing us all from some of the "bondage" of Pesach preparation. Since no one had to leave for home afterwards, we could drink wine and sing as late as we wanted. And we could take long walks along the beach, by sunlight and by moonlight, a setting conducive to thoughts about freedom.
Passover is one of the holidays most closely associated with food.
When thinking about this holiday, there are two key words to remember: matzah and chametz.
The Departure of the Jews from Egypt came about so hastily that our ancestors had no time to prepare their bread in the usual manner. Because the dough needed to be baked so quickly, it did not leaven (rise). Matzah is the unleavened bread that they ate.
Chametz, "leaven," literally means "souring" or "fermentation." The Torah says, "Seven days you shall eat unleaved bread; on the very first day you shall remove lean from your houses" (Exodus 12:15). The forbidden grains are: barley, oats, rye, spelt, and wheat (except when making matzah).
Doctors say that scar tissue is much stronger than tissue that has never suffered trauma, and the same is true of covenants. After the sin of the Golden Calf in Exodus 32, God, Moses, and the people Israel are reconciled. The covenant that was broken through idolatry is mended and emerges even stronger in our holy day Torah portion. How does a betrayal of the covenant, about which God threatens to destroy the people, result in a new doctrine of divine mercy?
It begins with Moses's passionate advocacy on the part of his erring people. In the Talmudic tractate B'rachot 32a, Moses is portrayed as one of the heroes of prayer who "hurled words at heaven," using chutzpah to move God to mercy. God drops the hint that Moses needs in Exodus 32:10: "Now, let Me be, that My anger may blaze forth against them and that I may destroy them, and make of you a great nation." Moses hears, "Now, let me be," and thinks, "What if I don't let God be?" That is his cue to begin arguing. In the Talmudic passage, Rabbi Abahu comments on the outrageousness of Moses's behavior with an equally outrageous analogy: "Moses took hold of the Holy One like one who seizes his fellow by the garment and said, 'Ruler of the universe, I will not let You go until you pardon them and forgive them.'" Moses is, as it were, grabbing God by the suit lapels and demanding mercy.
Dr. Adler describes the interaction between God and Moses following the apostasy of the Golden Calf and perceptibly depicts Moses's demeanor as "passionate advocacy."
Passion appears to dominate in both God and Moses. Emotion, not logic, is the primary ingredient in their exchange. As Dr. Adler elucidates, their dialogue is replete with words like "anger," "pardon," "forgive," "faithfulness," "compassion," "mercy," and "kindness." Moses's plea, "Let not the Egyptians say, 'It was with evil intent that he [You] delivered them'" (Exodus 32:12), is hardly an appeal to logic.
Encamped at Gilgal, in the steppes of Jericho, the Israelites offered the Passover sacrifice on the fourteenth day of the month, toward evening. On the day after the Passover offering, on that very day, they ate of the produce of the country, unleavened bread and parched grain. On the same day, when they ate of the produce of the land, the manna ceased. The Israelites got no more manna; that year they ate of the yield of the land of Canaan.
-Joshua 5:10-12
We learn in chapter 5 of Joshua that while the generation of the Exodus had been circumcised in Egypt, their children and grandchildren born in the desert had not been. And since only the circumcised may eat of the Passover sacrifice, it seems that this ritual too was not maintained during the forty years in the desert. Anyway, we couldn't have eaten matzah in the desert as we had no grain - only manna. Thus, the first Passover in the land of Israel was rather a significant event, a new experience for the people.
by Natalie Seltzer As Passover approaches, so does that age-old question: "What are we going to do with all of this left-over matzo?" Little do most people suspect that matzo can be exciting, tasty, and infinite, a truth I discovered when I found out I had an allergy to yeast. I started cooking and eating matzo year-round and discovered that matzo answered many of my cooking and eating dilemmas. Hence, my newly-launched blog that takes matzo to a new level, Matzo Outside the Box.
Matzo is an old food product (biblical, even). It is extremely versatile... more then just a platform for peanut butter, jelly and cream cheese. Jazz up your Passover Seder this year with this nouvelle cuisine matzo recipe from my blog:
By Rabbi Phyllis Sommer
(Originally posted on Ima on (and off) the Bima)
I know many of my very Orthodox readers (and even some of the less practicing folks) are going to cringe at what I'm about to say:
I'm so excited to start getting ready for Passover!
There's a full lunar month between Purim and Pesach (Passover) and most Jews spend the whole month getting ready for the holiday. In fact, it takes the whole month to get ready and the holiday itself is only one week long. Sometimes I wish it were (gasp) longer, so we could put all that prep time to some use.
by Marc Rosenstein (Originally published in Galilee Diary and Ten Minutes of Torah) Therefore, when the Lord your God grants you safety from all your enemies around you, in the land that the Lord your God is giving you as a hereditary portion, you shall blot out the memory of Amalek from under heaven. Do not forget. -Deuteronomy 25:19
There were criminals in Rabbi Meir's neighborhood that so bothered him that he prayed for their death. Beruriah, his wife, said to him: "What's with you? Psalm 104:35 says, 'May sins disappear' - does it say 'may sinners disappear?' No, it says 'sins,' so you need to pray for them to repent; the Psalm continues 'and may the wicked be no more.' So he prayed for them and they repented. -Babylonian Talmud, Berachot 10a
Haman, according to the Scroll of Esther, was a member of the tribe of Amalek. Thus, we learn the consequences of disregarding the Torah commandment to wipe out the memory of Amalek - as long as they are allowed to continue to exist, they remain a threat, the enemy who for no rational reason constantly plots our destruction. And we read the above passage on the Shabbat before Purim every year, to keep the lesson alive. The basis of this image of the Amalekites is found in the previous verse: we are told that right after we left Egypt, they attacked us cruelly and without provocation. The story of Amalek - and of Purim - posits a view of history in which there are forces of evil that can only be combated by means of violence, by destroying them physically. Their evil is inherent and immutable, and so, like some kind of virulent microbe in a horror movie, as long as even a few cells are left alive, there is the potential that they will regenerate into a monster. We may believe, in principle, that all humans are created in the Divine image, but apparently there are some who have so lost touch with that image that they are unredeemable.
"... this year as I sample the foods traditionally eaten at the Tu B'Shevat seder to commemorate springtime in Israel -- dates, almonds and figs, to name a few -- I'll not only be thinking about the farmers who planted them but the distance the foods traveled and the amount of greenhouse gases associated with their journey.
By Jill Zimmerman (First posted on the RACblog) Jill Zimmerman is an Eisendrath Legislative Assistant at the Religious Action Center.
"When strangers sojourn with you in your land, you shall not do them wrong. The strangers who sojourn with you shall be to you as the natives among you, and you shall love them as yourself; for you were strangers in the land of Egypt." (Leviticus 19:33-34)
Thirty-five times this principle is repeated in the Torah. Thirty-five times we are reminded of our own immigrant history. Thirty-five times we are commanded not only to welcome the stranger, but to "love them as yourself."
Today, we face the enormous task of fixing our nation's broken immigration system. Over 12 million undocumented immigrants live as "strangers" in our communities. U.S. Immigration Customs and Enforcement (ICE) raids, such as the one in Postville, Iowa at the Agriprocessers kosher meatpacking plant, have torn apart immigrant families. Detention centers across the country leave thousands in legal limbo and offend our sense of humanity. It is time to tell Congress and the Administration to enact solutions.
Tu BiSh'vat in the Age of Green
January 29, 2009
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By Rachel Cohen, Eisendrath Legislative Assistant (Originally published in Ten Minutes of Torah) Each year, even as many of us struggle against the cold winter days of February, we engage in a celebration of nature's renewal with the ritual of Tu BiSh'vat. Just as Israeli farmers begin to see signs of spring, Jews worldwide celebrate an ancient tradition marking the age of trees. With the rise of the environmental movement, Tu BiSh'vat has been branded the "Jewish Earth Day" and transformed from a minor observance into a mainstay of the Jewish calendar. Tu BiSh'vat has taken on many meanings to many people: a celebration of natural wonders, a chance to recommit ourselves to environmental stewardship, and a day to reflect on our role in the complex ecosystem that is planet Earth.
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I've been involved with interfaith dialogue since my first year of college. So when I signed up for Rav Siach, an interdenominational rabbinical student discussion group in Jerusalem, I expected an interesting and smooth experience. The past two months have definitely been interesting, but I could hardly call them smooth!
For the past eight weeks, four fellow HUC rabbinical students and I have been traveling to Melitz, a pluralistic education center in Jerusalem, to meet a handful of our future colleagues from other denominations. There are about a dozen participants with three facilitators, and we come from Reform, Conservative, Reconstructionist, "orthodox," and non-denominational backgrounds. Thus, we come to the table not only with our personal perspectives but also with the weight of our "movements" on our shoulders. And all that weight has made for some very heavy conversations. We discuss and debate issues like commandedness, the role of the rabbi, and denominational distinctions, and we strive to keep our minds open while attempting to understand the thoughts of the others. This can be a significant challenge, but our mutual respect gives us the motivation to try our hardest.
Chanukah is my favorite holiday. I know that involved, intellectual Jews like myself are supposed to declar that Pesach is their favorite or something, but I think that we do Chanukah a disservice these days. Undoubtedly, Chanukah's proximity to Christmas has made it a more major holiday in recent decades as American Jews have sought to include themselves in winter holiday festivities, but I'd argue that Chanukah's popularity cannot be reduced to such a disdainable cause.
If Yom Kippur or even Simchat Torah came at this season, we would not have been able to seize upon them and say, "Yes, goyim! We are just like you! We too have an uplifting winter holiday!" Chanukah is a great holiday all on its own and I'm here to tell you why.
by Rabbi Paul J. Kipnes A Story (learned from Rabbi Cheryl Peretz) There is wonderful Hasidic story, told of a conversation between the rabbi and a member of his community. The man once asked: "Rabbi, what is a Jew's task in this world?" The rabbi answered: "A Jew is a lamp-lighter on the streets of the world. In olden days, there was a person in every town who would light the gas street lamps with a light he carried on the end of a long pole. On the street corners, the lamps sat, ready to be lit. A lamp-lighter has a pole with a flame supplied by the town. He knows that the fire is not his own and he goes around lighting the lamps on his route." The man then asked: "But what if the lamp is in a desolate wilderness?" The rabbi responded: "Then, too, one must light it. Let it be noted that there is a wilderness and let the wilderness be shamed by the light." Not satisfied, the man asked: "But what if the lamp is in the middle of the sea?" The rabbi responded: "Then one must take off one's clothes, jump into the water, and light it there!"
Here, in an exclusive interview for RJ.org, Michelle sits down with Molly Kane, a rabbinical student at HUC-JIR to discuss Michelle's new Chanukah video sensation "Pass the Candle", her involvement in Reform Judaism, and more. Click below to listen in, and watch the video after the jump.
Technically, it is true that Chanukah is a "minor holiday," in the sense that it does not contain a yom tov, a day on which work is forbidden. However, this reflects the fact that Chanukah is post-Biblical more than its importance or lack of importance.
None the less, there is indeed ambivalence about the importance of Chanukah in Jewish tradition. On one hand Chanukah is traditionally viewed as a critical event in Jewish history. But on the other hand, our tradition hasn't wanted to talk too much about it.
by Andi Rosenthal This article was originally published on InterfaithFamily.com In the midst of packing up the apartment where I've lived for the past seven years, I found them right where I knew they would be, in a box at the very back of the hall closet.
Sighing, I opened it. There they were, bells and angels, stars and glass balls, shimmering in every color of the rainbow, shining out of the depths of the cardboard darkness. My Christmas ornaments, every single one with its own story, its own memory. I picked one up--a goofy orange ceramic lobster my sister had brought from Maine--and gazed at it, remembering my final Christmas tree in 2001, the year before I converted.
"Throw them out," said my friend Chrissy, as she folded up the clothes I would be donating to a local charity. "It's not like you're going to use them ever again."
"No," I replied, a note of stubbornness coming into my voice. "I want to keep them."
(First posted at RACblog) by Micaela Hellman-Tincher Eisendrath Legislative Assistant at the Religious Action Center of Reform Judaism Over Chanukah, we all look for thoughtful, useful and interesting gifts for our family and friends. Amid the ads for watches, sweaters and digital cameras this winter, you might notice an ad for another kind of gift. A bed net. As part of our goal to deliver 50,000 nets abroad, the Union for Reform Judaism will be advertising Nothing But Nets in Jewish media around the country this winter.
While you may not know anyone who wants their bed covered in insecticide-treated mesh, there are people abroad to whom this gift won't simply be nice and thoughtful, but life-saving. A child dies from malaria every 30 seconds, and the use of a bed net can reduce disease transmission by up to 90%. The bed nets donated through the Union for Reform Judaism's Nothing But Nets initiative will go straight to refugees of conflict in Africa-one of the populations most vulnerable to malaria. It takes only $10 to send a net.
by JanetheWriter It seems plausible that Thanksgiving as we know it today derives originally from our tradition's Sukkot. Whether or not this is, in fact, true, in our consumer-driven, must-have-the-latest-greatest-gadget, me-me-me society, this autumnal chag is a wonderful opportunity to step back, to reflect on what really matters and, individually and collectively, to celebrate our many blessings.
In my family, Thanksgiving minhag dictates that someone (usually my mother) reads a poem, prayer or other seasonal passage before we dig in. Last year, a few days before the holiday, Connecticut Governor Wilbur L. Cross' 1936 Thanksgiving proclamation crossed my desk and it was I who read it at our Thanksgiving table.
It's the last weekend before Thanksgiving, the first weekend when there's no more pretending that winter's cold and dark days are not just around the corner.
But it was sunny enough today to go out into the garden one last time and take down the tomato plants that froze earlier this week and put the garden to bed. Once the tomato and pepper plants were gone, only one bright green spot remained: the carrots I'd planted so many months ago.
With a deep push from the pitchfork they came to the surface. Bright orange carrots, what seemed like hundreds of them!
By JanetheWriter With more than a week to go until Thanksgiving, we're already well into the incessant advertisements for Barbies, Chia Pets, Pictionary, Scrabble, and, of course, the seasonally popular Norelco electric razors. (Can you even buy one of those things in July?!) Our mailboxes are stuffed with catalogs, catalogs and more catalogs -- Lands' End, L.L Bean, Harry and David and the Vermont Country Store -- and soon enough, we won't be able to escape endless refrains of those silver bells, the chestnuts roasting or the I'll be homes...if only in my dreams.
By Larry Kaufman A recent discussion in these precincts about Lashon Hara, intended to present a Jewish "take" on permissible and impermissible political discourse, gave rise to a peripheral discussion about the propriety of using words and phrases from languages other than English.
That article provided a literal translation of lashon hara as "the bad tongue," and provided as English explanations defamation, character assassination, or 'bad mouthing." The subsequent discussion suggested another meaning, malicious gossip.
As a relatively new entity, this blog had not previously articulated any "rules of the road," but the discussion provoked messages from the blog managers at the Union for Reform Judaism reminding bloggers the Union is not and cannot be in the business of endorsing or supporting candidates, and that the blog exists to look at the world through a lens of Reform Judaism. I propose an additional rule - we should follow the minhag (custom) that prevails on the Union list-servs, and translate expressions from languages other than English.
By Marge Eiseman The sukkah we were sitting in had history - the galvanized pipes and green oilcloth walls full of tape residue were probably 35 or 40 years old by now, imported to Wisconsin from their original home in suburban Chicago by my brother-in-law. The "chandeliers" were the original light fixtures from the bathroom at my step-mother's old house, and it looked especially festive with the new strings of colored mini-lights that aren't really in season in stores yet (if you know what I mean).
By David A.M. Wilensky (First published on The Reform Shuckle) This year, intoxicated by the coolness of the videos at this post at Jewlicious, I decided that I wanted to not only get my own Lulav and Etrog, but that I wanted to assemble the Lulav myself. Jonathan Golden, a a professor here at Drew and our wonderful Hillel adivsor, had his brother, a Sephardic rabbi, pick up the parts for me in Brooklyn while he was picking up several other peoples' sets of Sukot magic rain stick wand things.
The Rabbi put it together Sephardic-style. This involved a single-cradle handle thing. The Ashkenazic version that we see most often in the US, has three parts that hold the palm, willow, and myrtle seperately. The Sephardic version has a single-compratment braided handle that all three plants go in together.
By David A.M. Wilensky (First published on The Reform Shuckle) Over at the excellent blog FailedMessiah.com, a whistle-blowing blog out to expose far right wing orthodox Judaism as a harmful force in the world (by covering stuff like child molestation and Agriprocessors), there's a really interesting post about the ancient Mesopotamian holiday of Kapuru, held in the Babylonian month of Tashritu. Sound familiar? It's a cool post. Here's an excerpt:
Our ancestors borrowed a great deal from a towering, imperial Mesopotamian culture that for centuries dominated the Fertile Crescent. That we used Babylonian calendar names is widely known. Semitic peoples had used the lunar calendar from time immemorial, but named their months differently. What the (Hebrew-speaking) Canaanites called Aviv, Ziv, Eytanim and Bul, the practical-minded Hebrews first renamed months One, Two, Seven and Eight. The Babylonians called them Nisanu, Ayaru, Tashritu and Archasamnu. In time, our ancestors replaced their numerals with the Babylonian names, many of which are named in honor of Mesopotamian gods.
By William Berskon The last few days have dramatized the gravity of the sin of lashon hara, literally "the bad tongue." Known in English as defamation, character assassination, or in slang 'bad mouthing,' lashon hara is part of the vidui, the confession at Yom Kippur which we have all just said. It has traditionally been seen as one of the most common, yet also most serious of sins.
It is a frustration to me that public discourse in America has lacked this concept: that it is wrong to say something bad about another person, even if true, without a compelling reason. Such compelling reasons include testimony at a trial, preventing serious harm to others from a bad actor, and self-defense against lashon hara.
By Larry Kaufman A topic in our discussion of Haazinu at Torah study on Shabbat was the survival of the Jewish people over the millennia, in the face of all the odds against us.Shlomo, our resident scholar, suggested that this was because of the Jewish capacity for "making do."Aryeh supported his position, pointing out that this had even been enshrined in Mishkan T'filah, albeit spelled differently:morid ha-tal, making dew.
Of course, with Sukkot upon us, the dew will make way for the wind and the rain - but we pray our capacity for making do will not abate.Ken yehi ratzon - so may it be.
By JanetheWriter Last year on Yom Kippur, my father and I ducked out of temple following the morning service, drove down the road to the mall and--while the children's and tot services were underway--spent time browsing in Barnes and Noble, comparing notes about our most recent (and not so recent) reads, discussing what's on each of our "to read" lists and seeking out new treasures to add to those lists. Among the books we thumbed through that afternoon was Daniel Mendelsohn's The Lost,which, later in 5768, I subsequently purchased and we both read. So profound was its impact on me that I wrote about it twice for this blog--once before the read and once after.
This year, the day before erev Yom Kippur, I sent my father the following email:
Dear Daddy,
Do you want to go to Barnes and Noble again on YK afternoon the way we did last year? That's where we saw The Lost. Who knows what we might find this year!
By Gardening Grandma A story in this morning's New York Times about the growing army of "eco-kids" not only grabbed my attention, it made me proud: "Pint-Size Eco-Police, Making Parents Proud and Sometimes Crazy" highlights how children are teaching their parents a lesson or two about caring for this earth, sometimes to the frustration of their parents.
While Judaism was not mentioned in the story, nothing could be closer to our hearts than protecting the earth and working to repair the damage we've created. As today's emailed Ten Minutes of Torah by Rabbi Marla Feldman notes, "to neglect our role in maintaining the fragile balance of nature is to default on our very first commitment in our covenant with God - our sacred duty to be stewards of God's Creation." She goes on to note that Sukkot is a perfect time to reinforce our connection to the natural world around us.
For more ideas about what to do this Sukkot, check out www.urj.org.
Some of the more chazanishly demanding parts of the Yom Kipur liturgy at Chavurat Lamdeinu were tackled this year by one of our members, a guy named Steve. Steve grew up in the Conservative movement and later studied super-amazing-loud-operatic chazanut in a yeshiva. He later served for many years as a chazan at a conservative synagogue here in New Jersey.
Of course, I know that during a particular Aleinu on Yom Kipur, we're supposed to prostrate ourselves. But after years of a Reform synagogue on Austin, HUC in Jerusalem, and, last year, a Reform synagogue in New Brunswick, I've never seen it done.
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By Gardening Grandma As Yom Kippur approaches, many people have wished me an "easy fast."
I find it very strange - and disconcerting.
The fast is meant to force us to do some deep and not-so-easy reflection and self-examination. It's meant to push us beyond our normal comfort zone. Why then, should it be easy?
I think I'll stick with G'mar Chatima Tova when I'm at temple tonight. And so, to you, the readers of this blog, "may you be sealed in the book of life."
By Rabbi Lynne Landsberg (First posted on the RACblog) Rabbi Lynne Landsberg is the Religious Action Center of Reform Judaism's Senior Advisor on Disability Issues. She is a former Associate Director of the RAC and a former regional director of the URJ's Mid-Atlantic Council.
In 1999, I sustained a Traumatic Brain Injury when my Jeep skidded on a patch of black ice and wrapped around a tree. When I awoke from a six-week coma, I was unable to remember how to live. Through years of intensive rehabilitation, I re-learned how to walk, talk, concentrate, read and perform daily activities. Now, I walk with a cane, speak slowly and require assistance with minor tasks.
By David Singer Yes, a good year and a happy year. But to whom? To my family everywhere and to my friends also, and to colleagues, clients, and those I will meet this year. It goes without saying; I want all to have a good year with health and peace for them. And for myself, don't forget myself, who needs good health, who seeks peace for his daughter and wife and clients. But for whom else is L'Shana Tovah said?
It depends where you listen. If you were to visit a synagogue today, would you hear L'Shana Tovah said in honor of families who lost loved ones at wars fought today? Indeed, you would hear thoughts for those Americans fighting in Iraq. But would you hear thoughts of health and peace for Iraqi citizens in their country? Perhaps you would hear words for them, perhaps not. Some Iraqis are part of the war there; most are not and simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Do you hear L'Shana Tovah for them? Not much, I say.
By David A.M. Wilensky (First published on The Reform Shuckle) I've said it before and I'll say it again: The man is a genius. Check out a transcript of Rabbi Andy Bachman's erev Rosh Hashanah sermon here. Here' an excerpt:
Surrendering total control is never easy-especially as members of a synagogue community founded on principles that value the intellect over the experiential; the rational over the mysterious; Reform over Tradition. Of course, as we continually need to remind ourselves, the historical circumstances that founded this community in 1861 are quite different from those that demand action in the world today. Our membership, ever growing, comes from all walks of Jewish life-Reform, Conservative and Orthodox and non-Jewish life as well. I find that fewer people have an intellectual ax to grind with Tradition and Reform is not much more than: 1. a commitment to egalitarian values for men, women, gays and lesbians; 2. a rationalist and historical view of the authorship of Torah; and, 3. devotion to the principles of Tikkun Olam, Social Justice and Social Action. But "Reforming Judaism?" I've yet to encounter in my years here a single Jew who truly wants to Reform Judaism. After all, in humility, we could easily spend the next 50 years just figuring out what Judaism IS!
By Gardening Grandma Most everyone I spoke with today was putting the finishing touches on holiday preparation: Slicing the brisket...making the kugel...ironing the tablecloth...arranging the flowers.
With all that is out of the way, I found two hours to sit outside in my garden, enjoying the warmth of a fall sun and doing some private soul-searching in advance of tonight's erev worship. I found myself letting go of the anxiety I'd been feeling all day as the market dropped and Congress failed to pass the bailout passage--and instead feeling deeply grateful for my health and the health of my family and friends.
No one knows what the new year will bring, but I am confident I will continue to find balance in the joys my garden gives me.
And so, before the sun sets, Shanah tovah. May it be a good year for you.
By JanetheWriter When my sister was in college, one of her friends who wasn't Jewish always referred to Rosh Hashana as Rosh-a-Homa because, from her perspective, that's what everyone always did.
Indeed, today is the day to Rosh-a-Homa. Interestingly enough, though, my 10-block foot commute to the office this morning revealed only two potential Rosh-a-Homers--one woman pulling a small wheeled suitcase and one young man toting a garment bag over his shoulder.
No matter. Wherever you find yourself on this Rosh-a-Homa, may you be surrounded by good companions with whom to usher in a year that brings us all many blessings.
By dcc My fiancée and I recently joined a congregation about a block from our home. We went to the new member Shabbat, were called by the rabbi, welcomed by members and Abby (my future bride) was called this morning to read an Aliyah on Rosh Hashanah. But even after such a warm welcome still it is kinda strange.
This will be our first High Holidays as "adults" and I for one am freaking out a bit. What should we do for dinner on Erev Rosh Hashanah and Kol Nidre? More importantly do we host our own or seek an invitation to a well-established-bagels-lox-cream-cheese-kuggle-and-caffeine-filled brake-the-fast? For sure I won't be asked to blow the shofar signaling it is (finally) time to eat.
By Larry Kaufman My uncle Sidney Pazol was a dropout from Hebrew Union College, who later found himself a secular rabbinate as the leader of a Great Books discussion group. He told me once about-can we call her his congregant?-Mrs. Guggenheim, who came regularly to the sessions, but who never participated in the conversation, no matter how hard he tried to engage her.
Plato? Mrs. G had nothing to say. St. Thomas Aquinas? Mrs. G had nothing to say. Certainly, Uncle Sid thought, she would have something to say when they came to Macbeth-everybody has an opinion about Macbeth--but again, nothing. Finally, he turned to her and asked point blank what she had thought of the play. "Well," she replied, "I don't understand what makes this a great book - it's just a bunch of famous quotations strung together."
by Marge Eiseman So far, every day of Elul, I have gotten emails with messages about dreaming from Craig Taubman's project, "Jewels of Elul", and challenging questions to prod me into thinking about how I am preparing for these High Holy Days from Rabbi Simon Jacobson of the Meaningful Life Center, and Sefirot-based poetry by Gloria Krasno to direct my attention to the combination of Divine attributes that are energizing each of these days.
Today, I got extra doses of inspiration from a most unexpected place -- the comics page in the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel. I was struck by how many really deep messages there were, hidden in the guise of entertainment. One strip focuses on domestic violence, and how to recognize it in an acquaintance or friend and what to do in response. Others are tackling the big issues of the cost of being middle class in this time of increased gas prices, sexism, racism, intra-familial political differences, ethnic pride, and so much more. This doesn't even include Doonesbury or political cartoon, which our paper puts on the editorial page, lest we be confused about what is supposed to be commentary on modern life.
It's the synchronicity of life, such that we are asking for some insight from one place, and finding it all around us. May you all be blessed with the opportunity to hear the messages of hope and forgiveness from every person and situation in your life.
L'shanah tovah tikateivu - may you be blessed with an awesome New Year!
The start of the month of Elul brings our community into its preparation for the High Holidays. Now the pace of communal life starts to change and our focus is on reflection, reconciliation, repentance and the annual response to new beginnings.
For too many in our community, however, this season will hold more angst than joy.
The economic situation in our country presents us with challenges unseen for nearly a generation. Too many will sit in synagogues next month and be equally concerned with their own economic situation as they will the state of their soul. Increasingly senior citizens on fixed or limited incomes are seeing their resources challenged. Young adults are concerned about job security. Too many of our people of all ages have lost jobs, been downsized or live on the edge of job and financial uncertainty.
By Sybil Schwartz I came to the 11 pm S'lichot Service at Beth Emeth in Wilmington, Delaware on Saturday night at the suggestion of Rabbi Grumbacher during Torah study. I came frankly, out of curiosity and to see if I could stay awake at that "unGodly" time. I had no idea of what a S'lichot service was. But the Rabbi had said "come" and when asked indicated it was a short service.
When I entered the sanctuary I was somewhat surprised to see about 35 other insomniacs. I noticed that some of the participants were members of the Beth Emeth Torah study group, chaverahs, temple leaders and probably others who were just inquisitive. I continued to wonder why all those people were not in their beds sleeping
By JanetheWriter One of my favorite High Holiday foods is the pomegranate. That's right, the pomegranate--not the apples and honey that kick off dinner on erev Rosh Hashana, not the noodle kugel that marks the big meal before Yom Kippur and not even the salty whitefish salad of our break-the-fast. I'd trade them all for the smooth roundness of the pomegranate, its pale speckled skin barely hinting at the brilliance of the tart, juicy seeds within.
By Micaela Hellman-Tincher This past week marked the first week of the Hebrew month of Elul. During Elul, my mom calls me every day to blow the shofar over the phone, to get us ready for the High Holy Days. I have always been taught that the shofar was meant to be a kind of alarm that roused us from our normal lives and instructed us to prepare for the new year and the days of awe.
For me, Elul has also always marked the end of summer and the beginning of school, and shofar phone calls usually coincided with figuring out my workload for the upcoming year. This year Elul's shofar blasts mean something different as I start my work at the RAC. Elul's shofar calls come at a time when I am being shaken awake to realize the urgent issues facing the world around me.
By JanetheWriter Last week, we marked both the unofficial end of summer and, with the arrival of Elul, the unofficial start of the High Holy Day season. Indeed, with each Elul, each Simchat Torah "Bereshit" and each seder-concluding "L'shana ha-ba-ah b'yerushalayim," our tradition graciously offers us an opportunity to seize a new beginning, a fresh start, a reason to look forward.
Six years ago at this season, just as I was closing out a difficult chapter in my own life, I had an opportunity to begin again in every way--a new job, a new home, and what I still think of as an entirely remade life back home here on the east coast.
By Larry Kaufman In our wonderful American fusion of calendars, one of the signals we get from Labor Day is that the High Holy Days are coming, and their harbinger is selichot - the term applied both to a religious service devoted to penitence and to the prayers of forgiveness themselves. In the Sephardic tradition, selichot are recited nightly throughout the month of Elul; in the Ashkenazic tradition, nightly from the Saturday midnight preceding Rosh Hashanah by at least ten days.
By JanetheWriter The third entry in today's Metropolitan Diary section of the New York Times featuring two people's "nanosecond of bonding" over High Holy Day Torah text study in the subway reminds me that as we approach Tishah B'Av in less than a week, Elul and the High Holy Days can't be far behind.
Indeed, as Rabbis Ken Chasen and Josh Zweiback, the singing duo known as Mah Tovu, tell us in the chorus of their song "Round and Round:"
By David A.M. Wilensky Yesterday a post by Rabbi Joel R. Schwartzman appeared on this blog titled "Ten More Minutes of Torah." It was a response to Lewis M. Barth's recent Ten Minutes of Torah for Masei, in which Barth argued that the current Haftarah cycle of three haftarot of destruction followed by seven haftarot of consolation suggest that Reform Judaism should reassess its relationship with Tishah B'Av. Rabbi Schwartzman's post expressed strong discomfort with this idea.
Rabbi Schwartzman's first argument is typical of Reform Jews who are uncomfortable with even talking about the Temple in a Reform context. He tells us that, "Given the importance of the Temple in the Conservative and Orthodox movements, whether spiritually or practically, we Reformists would do well to consider exactly what we would be tying onto ourselves were we to adopt Tishah B'Av observances."
By Rabbi Joel R. Schwartzman In this week's comment on the parashat hashavuah (weekly Torah portion), in Ten Minutes of Torah, Professor Barth suggests that for the sake of the Haftarot that appear this time of year and are centered on Tishe B'Av (the Ninth of Av) that we in the Reform movement might re-consider observing this day as well.
While not a Classical Reformer myself and while I can appreciate the devastation that the destructions of the First and Second Temples meant to the Jewish people, I am not taken with the idea to instate this day into my Reform calendar.
By David A.M. Wilensky As readers of Reform Judaism magazine will recall, the RJ Magazine's summer 2008 issue included a series of important questions regarding the Reform Movement and their answers as given by 30 adult members of the Reform Movement.
I'm currently at the URJ Kutz Camp with a group of people who will be the future lay and professional leadership of the Reform movement in North America. I'll be featuring many of them as well as many of the younger Kutz staff members this summer in a series of posts here on the RJ.org blog, in which I will be asking Reform high school and college students (and perhaps a few 20-somethings) for their take on Reform Judaism via questions similar to those used in the Magazine.
Tyler Benjamin is a 16-year-old rower/ultimate Frisbee player from Tampa, Florida. He is in love with the opportunities that are afforded him via NFTY, especially as the President of the Southern Tropical Region, and overall his life as a Reform Jew in America.
By David A.M. Wilensky As readers of Reform Judaism magazine will recall, the RJ Magazine's summer 2008 issue included a series of important questions regarding the Reform Movement and their answers as given by 30 adult members of the Reform Movement.
I'm currently at the URJ Kutz Camp with a group of people who will be the future lay and professional leadership of the Reform movement in North America. I'll be featuring many of them as well as many of the younger Kutz staff members this summer in a series of posts here on the RJ.org blog, in which I will be asking Reform high school and college students (and perhaps a few 20-somethings) for their take on Reform Judaism via questions similar to those used in the Magazine.
Leslie Bass hails originally from Austin, Texas. This fall she will be a junior at the University of Denver, where she is a double major in Digital Media Studies and Journalism. This July, she will be travelling to Brisbane, Australia to study abroad at the Queensland University of Technology for five months. In high school, she was an active member of NFTY-TOR and board member of her local TYG. She attended the URJ Kutz Camp in the Summer of 2005 and spent the Summers of 2006 and 2007 as Kutz Camp staff.
My daughter graduated from high school Saturday. The weather changed from cold and rainy to a sunny 80 degree day. The plague of cicadas awaited for 17 years and due to arrive by now were yet to emerge from the ground. I arrived early and got a front row seat knowing that I could not miss seeing my beloved child on this special day. It was Shabbat and all was right.
A short piece on the editorials and letters page in Friday's New York Times suggests that according to the National Trust for Historic Preservation, "the Lower East Side is one of the 11 most endangered places in America..." The article mentions several neighborhood landmarks, including The Eldridge Street Synagogue which, following a recently completed multi-million dollar restoration is now known as the Museum at Eldridge Street.
Dating from 1887 and widely known to be the first synagogue built "from scratch" in America by Eastern European Jews, the continuously operational Eldridge Street Synagogue is an architectural, cultural and historical gem. This Sunday's "Egg Rolls and Egg Creams" Festival celebrates the rich heritage and history of the immigrants--Jewish, Chinese, Italian, and others--for whom the neighborhood was the "Plymouth Rock" in their pilgrimage to America. Indeed, it was so for my grandparents, and on this Father's Day weekend, it is most fitting to honor them--our grandmothers and our grandfathers--for their moxie in making the journey and ensuring a better life for us all.
By Rabbi Stacey Blank In Israel, even in Reform synagogues, most of the kids who have an aliyah to the Torah when they turn 13 are boys. There are very few girls. It is still not common for girls to have an aliyah to the Torah in Israel (though everyone has a party!). In a country where women fought side-by-side the men in the 1948 War of Independence, where women hold important positions in government, and where women run major corporations, it is hard to believe that girls by and large are not encouraged to enter the religious sphere.
By JanetheWriter Today is the 47th day of the counting of the omer. And, although I do not possess David A.M. Wilensky's "hyper-awareness of Jewish time," I do, in my own way, mark Jewish time.
As much a part of my growing up as lighting Hanukkah candles and fasting on Yom Kippur was the pilgrimage my mother, my grandmother and I made each summer to Beth David Cemetery in Elmont Queens.
By David A.M. Wilensky I was born on the third day of the month of March in 1989. Much to the eternal dismay of my mother, I celebrated the nineteenth anniversary of that occasion on the twenty-seventh day of the month Adar of this year, 5768. This decision was one of several that I made over the last year that have led me to know always exactly when I am.
I'll explain.
At the end of August of last year I left my home of Austin, Texas to go to college at Drew University in Madison, New Jersey. Aside from the usual freedoms you might think of when you think of going off to college, I discovered a particular ritual freedom I hadn't quite thought of before. Of course at home no one stopped me from shuckling in synagogue, though it often garnered a few rather conspicuous glances from other congregants. No one stopped me from standing through the entire Amidah. I even met little resistance at home to the idea of wearing a talit katan every day. But, now, in college, not only could rituals be what wanted, they could be when I wanted.
I do not think any Jewish lifecycle event will ever mean more to me than my son’s conversion to Judaism. For days afterward I walked on clouds because my son was a “member of the tribe” and would be poised to inherit the great legacy of Judaism. Only as time has passed have I fully understood the profound impact this decision would have on our family.
Zachary was just over 2 years old when my partner and I decided we would raise him as a Jew. I remembered from my own conversion that the ceremony involved saying the Sh’ma, so Zachary and I practiced until he could repeat each word after me. At the mikveh, with each dunk of Zachary and each prayer or blessing recited, I became more and more overwhelmed by my belief that his conversion to Judaism—if he took full advantage of it—would be the best gift I could ever give to him.
I was raised in a small New England town almost completely isolated from Judaism—with few Jewish friends and almost no contact with Jewish experiences. By 1944 I—a kid who’d hardly ever dated a girl and had never been away from home by myself—was a soldier in the U.S. Army, trapped in the Ozark mountains of Missouri, a “million miles” from home, going through basic Signal Corps training in preparation to face our enemies overseas while I faced more immediate challenges on the home front.
My fellow soldiers hated my Boston accent. Basic training was very difficult. I learned to crawl through cold, wet mud and snow on my stomach while under live machine-gun fire. Although I was adept enough at carrying a heavy backpack along with a rifle on 25-mile marches, I consistently failed to keep step while marching in dress parades.
In the midst of all this misery came the announcement that all Jewish soldiers were invited to take part in a seder service in the small town of Neosho, Missouri, just outside our main gate.
A few weeks ago, I was reading an article (I wish I could remember where) in which a woman talked about how she used to treasure the long family seders of her youth. She had fond memories of being allowed to stay up late, and of listening to the adults singing the old Hebrew songs. Now that she is a mom, she said, she looks to create short, child-friendly seders for her own family. My heart sank. Didn't she read the words that she had just written? I see the same exact trend happening in my own family. We create pediatric seders with puppets and songs in English, and the kids can't wait for it to be over. Worse yet, they don't even recognize the traditional tunes to those end-of-seder songs. How could they recognize songs that we don't sing? We are changing the seder culture for our children in order to make it more fun, and it isn't working at all.
In the deep cold of January, with winter's short days and long nights, along comes 
by Rabbi Paul Kipnes
Sixty-six years ago, on October 2, 1943, when Jews were celebrating the High Holidays, Hitler ordered the arrest and deportation of Denmark's 8,000 Jews. Danish Christian citizens were outraged and courageously rescued almost the entire Jewish population. In an act of collective resistance, the Danes ferried their fellow Jewish citizens on small boats across the sea to safety in Sweden. Over 99% of Danish Jews survived the Holocaust. 
I know many of my very Orthodox readers (and even some of the less practicing folks) are going to cringe at what I'm about to say:
You may know 
