Omer Day Twenty-Six

Yesterday afternoon in the Strand Bookstore at Union Square, I went wandering for a brief few moments in search of some books on Sol LeWitt, the Bechers, and Robert Ryman–inspired by my visit a few weeks back to the Dia Beacon.

As usual, I stopped by the Judaica section to see if any new gems had arrived and found some great first editions of Schocken’s publications of Buber’s Tales of the Hasidim (Buber’s original two-volume set, not the shmaltzy one with the Hasids dancing on the cover that you find in stores today) as well as a collection published in London by East and West Library, also by Buber, called Israel and Palestine: The History of an Idea (priced originally at “one guinea net.”)

Remember, Buber’s perspective, writing in the 1940s under British Mandate Palestine, is not to address what we now contemporarily refer to as the Israeli-Palestinian battle, but Palestine the land as named by the Romans, nearly 2000 years ago. The inside flap says, “This is a book which will not only take a leading place in the literature of Zionism, of which it is itself a history and evaluation, but one which may be commended to all men who are seeking for a way to holiness and true peace in the midst of a world more desperately in need of them than ever before.”

Amen to that.

I also picked up Gordon Wood’s The Americanization of Benjamin Franklin for good measure. I mean, why restrict myself to Jewish secular messianism when there’s some American secular messianism to be had as well?

Alas, in the Jewish section, I overhear three young women in search of a book on conversion to Judaism. Having met earlier in the week with two of my conversion students at Shul and fresh from setting up an appointment to meet a third next week, I was interested in this potential random encounter, weighing, in the few quiet moments I had to myself, at my anonymous hideaway in the Strand, the degree to which I was willing to engage and how shall we say, proselytize.

They were lost; and I couldn’t stand it any longer so I spoke up. Relief crossed the face of the one young woman with her two Jewish friends that an “expert” had appeared willing to help.

We found Milton Steinberg’s Basic Judaism–my favorite introduction; searched for Simcha Kling’s Embracing Judaism, and for security, added Harold Kushner’s To Life. The seeker had already been in email contact with Anita Diamant (she had read the Red Tent, wrote the author, and had already read Diamant’s Living a Jewish Life.)

We traded emails and I promised to put her in touch with some rabbis in her home town (she was in New York on a quick getaway with friends) and we went our separate ways.

I reflect on this with no clear idea in mind other than to say that the randomness of the encounter, combined with the absence of iPod earphones and the decision to weigh in on my “day off” were all contributing factors to the rather lofty notion that a seeker of Judaism be welcomed into the Tent.

Though not in the hallowed and hushed quietude of the New York Public Library, that this encounter took place among books was, one must say, rather redemptive. Or at least hopeful. It reminded me of the earlier notion that the rabbis had of Abraham smashing his father’s idols which he sold in the marketplace and the further developed idea by the rabbis in the Midrash that engaged Roman and Greek culture in the broader marketplace of philosophical and theological inquiry.

Out in the public realm, not only in the inner sanctum of a synagogue sanctuary, Jews are made. One soul at time, one book at time, one question at a time.

Omer Day Twenty-Five

Yoshie Fruchter’s band Pitom plays CBE tonight at 8pm. Yoshie is a very talented young man and much beloved teacher in our Yachad Family Education program.

Come support original new Jewish music!

Omer Day Twenty-Four

Israel has a lot of problems, the most significant of which is security. I think there’s universal agreement on that, especially today, with a Katyusha rocket hitting Ashkelon and the increased Hezbollah-ization of Beirut. Treacherous times, yet again.

But one way to alienate Diaspora Jewry from feeling Israel’s pain internally is the ridiculous allegiance to outmoded Rabbinical Courts that in no way speak to, speak for or in any way represent the interests of Israeli and Diaspora Jewry.

It’s a power-grip that has been held since the founding of the state 60 years ago and Israelis ought to overthrow it once and for all.

The Forward’s recent coverage of the conversion controversy in Israel proves yet again the voice of religious moderation (what the world needs more of, not less!) is being trampled beneath the boot of religious extremism.

Since we are firmly in the metaphor of the journey through the desert in the Omer period, this is Haredi Judaism’s Golden Calf. Their power needs to be exposed for the Idol it is and transfered back to those who will honor all of God’s children who claim a part of the Covenant with God.

Omer Day Twenty-Three

An interesting and important interview between Jeffrey Goldberg and Senator Obama in the Atlantic.

Jeffrey Goldberg’s interview was covered today by the Times as well.

Martin Peretz gives it some thought as well in the New Republic.

Omer Day Twenty-Two

The cooler weather today in Brooklyn has one literally davenning for those steamy days of summer and yet the air is so fresh that it directs the mind toward the visual reality of springtime and the results are rather entertaining.

Today, while watching a softball game in Prospect Park, the wind, sun and clouds battled for hegemony while their beneficiaries, the trees, patiently bided their time and did what they know how to do best in spring: come into being.
If we could only come into being each day–or even each season–with the same steady intentionality as a tree!

How that first spring in the desert must have been for our ancestors, moving from the over-abundant idolatry of Egypt to the stark barrenness of the desert. And then to encounter a tree in spring: so wondrous, so alive, so open to dialogue.

Being a rabbi, I know I’m supposed to quote Buber’s famous passage on a tree in “I and Thou” but I prefer Robert Frost, to be quite honest.

Tree at My Window (1928)

Tree at my window, window tree,
My sash is lowered when night comes on;
But let there never be curtain drawn
Between you and me.

Vague dream-head lifted out of the ground,
And thing next most diffuse to cloud,
Not all your light tongues talking aloud
Could be profound.

But tree, I have seen you taken and tossed,
And if you have seen me when I slept,
You have seen me when I was taken and swept
And all but lost.

That day she put our heads together,
Fate had her imagination about her,
Your head so much concerned with outer,
Mine with inner, weather.

===

On contemplating a tree in 1923 (five years prior to Frost) Buber wrote, “But it can also happen, if will and grace are joined, that as I contemplate the tree I am drawn into a relation, and the tree ceases to be an It. The power of exclusiveness has seized me.”

Buber: “The power of exclusiveness has seized me.”

Frost: “That day she put our heads together, fate had her imagination about her, your head so much concerned with outer, mine with inner, weather.”

Here are five years that are but a blink of an eye. A few seasons. Nothing in the life of a tree.

Omer Day Twenty-One

The resilience of age.

I wonder how old Akiva was when he said, “Everything is foreseen, yet freedom of choice is granted.”

Did he have the confidence of youth or the wisdom of old age?

I had this in mind this morning when I went to do a baby naming for a revered family in the Congregation, who had made the decision to name a child for a great-grandmother who had died earlier in the year.

Walking into the vibrant and bustling home, overflowing with life and generous brunch in celebration of Mother’s Day and the baby naming, the family elder, still in his year of mourning, was resplendent himself in honor and celebration. And the confidence on his face seemed to say, “I know beginnings and I know ends–and still, in between, we do get to choose.”

It was as if one could see the face of God, for a brief moment, and speaking through a Sage long ago, re-uttered the words, “Everything is seen, yet freedom of choice is granted. The world is judged favorably, yet all depends on the preponderance of good deeds.” (Pirke Avot 3.19)

There are beginnings in life and there are ends.

But our lives are truly judged by the preponderance of good deeds which bridge these Moments of Truth.

Omer Day Twenty

Last night, while walking to Shul to welcome Shabbat, I had this idea that maybe the next idea for liberal Jews will be about building the language of obligation into the lives of non-orthodox Jews. It may appear to be counter-intuitive.

After all, Reform Judaism, for example, was born of the idea that one was specifically not obligated to observe the laws that, it had been determined by an intellectual elite, were simply no longer binding. Kosher slaughtering rituals, certain trappings of daily prayer, the overall structure of Jewish family purity laws–to name a few–were seen as obligations that no longer held meaning for the emancipated and free-thinking Jew.

But within a generation, that theory began to break apart. A quick survey of the various platform statements of Reform Judaism over the past century reveals an ever-evolving relationship to Jewish law and obligation, where, arguably, what was once purposely removed from the obligatory statements about what Judaism asks of us have been slowly welcomed back, albeit in a language that is nuanced according to the late twentieth century quest for personal meaning.

Ah, America! (Enough about me; what do you think about me?) So it goes.

Here in Park Slope, I think about the obligations people get pleasure and meaning from:

1. Their children
2. Their partners, spouses, husbands, wives.
3. Their food (Co-Op, Fairway, Union Market, Farmers Market)
4. Walking their dogs in the park. (If you don’t believe me here, just notice the sudden preponderance of boutique pet-care shops in the neighborhood. Our dogs are treated better than most Third-World humans.)
5. Their workouts.
6. Their work.
7. Their homes and their spiritual homes (synagogue, church, shrine, mosque, yoga mat).

Then I think about the obligations that people don’t get pleasure and meaning from:

1. Their bills.
2. Their work.
3. Their healthcare.
4. Their homes and their spiritual homes.

My point here is that I think it would be interesting and challenging to examine what is not pleasurable or meaningful about engaging in the synagogue and to ask the simple questions, “What and Why?”

Questions have the power and ability to break something apart and reassemble it in a way that can offer new perspectives and new meaning.

What makes work both pleasurable and painful?
What makes the home both pleasurable and painful?
What makes the synagogue both pleasurable and painful?

In each of these cases, are we willing to ask that “what” and the “why” and be willing to act on what we hear, both breaking apart and then reassembling the puzzle with new perspectives and new meaning?

What if we kept a log of such observations and then published it, like a public page of Talmud, and reflected on the shared and divergent perspectives of this center of community?

What would we hear? What would we learn?

And what would we do about it?

My intuition is that obligation loses its luster when it lacks either pleasure or aesthetic–two tropes of daily life in our area of New York that are highly valued.

With our scaffolding erected and holy house of God under construction, it’s the right time to ask the psychological questions of spiritual excavation.

Don’t be afraid.

Ask.

You may find yourself running to fulfill the answer you receive.

Omer Day Nineteen

Relief Efforts for Burma
One of the worst humanitarian disasters in years is unfolding in Burma, in the aftermath of a devastating cyclone that tore through the country. Nearly 100,000 people are presumed dead, tens of thousands remain missing, and one million are homeless. This terribly tragic situation has been amplified by Burma’s brutal military government, which is failing to respond to the disaster and obstructing international aid organizations.

When tragedies occur on such an enormous scale it is difficult to know where to begin to help. Our feelings of helplessness may be exacerbated by a skepticism around providing effective relief to those suffering under harsh and corrupt regimes. But our tradition affirms that we must do whatever is in our power to preserve human life, and so we ask that our community acts promptly and decisively to ensure that victims receive the aid that they desperately need.

We encourage everyone in our community here at Beth Elohim to contribute to this relief effort, either through the UJA Federation of NY or through the American Jewish World Service. Both have established special Burmese Emergency Relief Funds, with UJA’s support going to the Joint Distribution Committee (JDC). Both are committed to distributing one hundred percent of the money collected in the emergency fund, and will work with agencies on the ground in the affected areas as the needs become clear.

To donate to the JDC, please To make a donation to Myanmar Cyclone Relief: by phone, 212.687.6200. By Mail: Check payable to: JDC - Myanmar Cyclone Relief, P.O. Box 530, 132 East 43rd St. New York, NY, 10017.

To contribute to AJWS, click HERE or call (800) 889-7146. Checks can be sent to: American Jewish World Service, Burma Relief, 45 West 36th Street, 10th Floor, New York, NY 10018.

We pray that rescue efforts are successful in saving as many people as possible.

May those who have lost loved ones find comfort in knowing that the hearts of good people around the world are open to their suffering.

(with special thanks to our friend Rabbi Sharon Brous at Ikar-LA for sharing this language)

Omer Day Eighteen, continued

Rabbi Dan Bronstein and humorist Ben Greenman exchange some pretty essential information on the New Yorker website, about Sony’s long-anticipated release of 3 Stooges DVDs and digital downloads at iTunes.

Omer relevance?

You try schlepping 49 days in the desert without a schpritz of seltzer to move things along!

Omer Day Eighteen

Yom Ha’Atzmaut: Israel’s Independence Day

The twentieth century for world Jewry was one of the most traumatizing and triumphant centuries of our long and dramatic existence. It began with the dislocation of millions of Jews from pogroms and anti-Semitism in the Pale of Settlement and toward the promise of freedom in America, Canada and British Mandate Palestine. The ideologies of Representative Democracy and Zionism offered the twin lamps of Hope for a world Jewry that feared it would be extinguished. Within a few short decades, the specter of Fascism and Nazism threatened to annihilate European Jewry. American Jewish soldiers fought in the American military and the Zionists in Palestine increased their pressure on Great Britain to leave its colonial position and grant statehood to the Jewish people.

And within a few years of the end of the war, with the awareness of the extermination of six million Jews (including one million children) Israel became a reality. But in a matter of moments, triumph turned to trauma as the War for Independence threatened the nascent state. Israel’s victory then, on a thin sliver of land, allowed it to grow and develop, and so it did. Schools and universities, hospitals, cities, agricultural infrastructure, labor and industry, arts and cultural institutions–each of these already in development during the pre-state era–began to flourish.

But within a decade there was a crisis with Egypt at the Suez Canal; and within another decade, the threat to Israel’s existence arose again with the Six Day War–where Egypt, Syria, Lebanon, and Jordan were allied to attack Israel and remove the Jewish state. Israel’s stunning victory, seen by some throughout the world as “miraculous,” unleashed more triumph but more trauma as well. For with it came the responsibility of ruling over more than one million Palestinians in the West Bank and Gaza Strip, a responsibility that many Israeli leaders knew would represent an unachievable result.

In the 40 years that followed, there was one after another moment of trauma that seemed like a coordinated strategy of never allowing Israel to gain its footing as a nation. In 1973 there was the Yom Kippur War; in 1982 the Lebanon War; in 1987 the First Intifada; in the early 1990s the beginning of the Oslo Peace Process, which offered hope, only to be followed by terror and in 1995 the assassination of Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin. In 2000, the Second Intifada; the summer of 2006, the Lebanon War with Hezbollah.

That through it all Israel has been able to survive is nothing less than a spectacular testimony to the resilience of the Jewish people. And with that spectacular testimony comes the responsibility of Jewish peoplehood. The absorption of Jews from Africa, the Middle East, and Russia–remaining the beacon of hope for the refugee. And the fair, equitable and democratic treatment of Israel’s more than one million Arab citizens, who claim Israel as their state as well. Add on top of that the Palestinian populations under Israeli rule in the West Bank and Gaza, and one begins to understand the seemingly enormous and multi-dimensional challenge Israel continues to face.

When a century cannot yield more than a decade of triumph without unleashing another rupture, another trauma, another dislocation–how is one to achieve anything? (To give you a comparative idea: even factoring in September 11, 2001 and Pearl Harbor 1941, the next previous attack on American soil was the American Civil War in 1861 and prior to that the War of 1812.)

And yet, Israelis survive, invent, thrive, create in technology, medicine, science, the arts–answering the inexorable call to live life to its fullest and believe in the “Hope” that freedom and justice can be achieved not only for the Jewish people in their own land but for their Palestinian neighbors as well. Despite a century of trauma and dislocation, polls continually show that the more than 70% of Israelis and 70% of Palestinians want a peaceful, two-state solution to this ongoing struggle, so that all can experience the peace and quiet they deserve.

Despite it all, we live in incredibly opportune times. Birthright Israel has sent more than 100,000 young Jews to Israel; thousands study abroad and tens of thousands visit each year. In an era of increased globalization, travel and business and cultural collaborations occur on a daily basis. Israel’s challenge of making peace with its neighbors remains a central component in the international debate over the War on Terror.

And so it goes.

Called upon by the God of the Bible to be a “Light Unto the Nations,” the Jewish people is bound to a narrative purpose of bringing our understanding of Truth and Justice and Peace to the world.

On May 8, 2008, Israel will be 60 years old as a nation. It is an achievement worth celebrating and taking great stock in, especially against the background of the past sixty years of world history. And yet–it is merely a generation and a half old. That it has created a national homeland; given birth to the revival of an ancient language; made meaningful and necessary contributions to stopping disease, healing the sick, connecting the planet, and been that beacon of hope to those who strive to see another day, is truly worth our gratitude and recognition.

For imagine, if you will, what Israel could have achieved with sixty years of quiet? And that alone should give us reason to remain steadfast in our support for peace with Israel’s neighbors, for a resolution of the conflict with Palestinians, and for the dream of continuing to dream that Israel may be not only “The Hope” for the Jewish people but for all humanity.