I answered honestly, “I grew up without religion.” It’s that simple. My parents aren’t atheists. But we never went to church (or anything else, for that matter), we didn’t celebrate holidays religiously, and I never went to any kinds of events that promoted religion, with the exception of seeing the Dalai Lama speak on world peace.

But this was not enough for the reporter.

“Oh, so you converted?” She asked.

This is a sticky situation. I’m open about the fact that I converted to Judaism more than I should be. People who know me, or know PunkTorah, or stumble upon one of our videos, know that Patrick Aleph is a big ol’ ger. Loud and proud.

But does that give anyone a right to ask me about it?

Technically, no. Judaism discourages “outing” converts. Abraham was a convert. All the matriarchs of the Torah were converts. And Ruth, the most famous convert in Torah history, has a holiday surrounding her (Shavuot). No one can trace their heritage back to Mt. Sinai, so in a way, we’re all Jews By Choice.

In reality though, converts are second class citizens. I’m done pretending that the Jewish community treats us any differently.

I have been asked by rabbis of every mainstream movement of Judaism, across the spectrum, if I am a convert. This is a violation of Jewish law, and no one can play the “they don’t know any better” card. Maybe a lay person walking down the street doesn’t know, but a rabbi does.

I hope people disagree with me, because I’d like to see some light at the end of the tunnel.

Share this:

Judgement House, an outreach tool of some evangelical churches, is “a walk-through drama that presents the truth of people’s choices versus the consequences of those decisions both in this life and the next.”

Housed inside the church, your group walks through a series of different rooms, elaborate decorated with lights, props and actors playing out different scenes that showcase the characters descent into…well…Heaven or Hell. The goal at the end of the Judgement House is to get you to be so shell shocked that you end up becoming a Christian.

Our Judgement House adventure took us to Mountain View Church in Marietta, GA, an upper middle class suburb of Atlanta. There we purchased tickets for two (a $10 donation), filled out guest cards with our email addresses, and proceeded into the the walking drama. I wish I had photos and video, but alas, they are not allowed.

The story begins with a group counseling session. This is where we meet our three protagonists, Bill, Tanya and Jake.

Bill is a middle aged man who in therapy admits to having been molested as a kid. His counselor suggests he take up journaling as a way to deal with his grief.

Tanya, played by a slightly older woman, has also been molested and from her admission at this group session, has used drugs, alcohol and sex to cope with the deep pain.

Our other main character, Jake, is a twenty something kid with a slightly embarrassing neck tattoo a la Target Employee (the actor had a painted-on tattoo, so no, I’m not being a jerk here). We don’t know much about Jake, except that he is a born again Christian.

In the play, Tanya storms out of therapy after admitting to having been abused as a child. In the next scene, we find her and Jake at a bar. Tanya is wasted: Jake comes in after her, and of course, only drinks water.

This is our first glimpse into the Christian aspect of the play: in the bar scene, Jake tries to convince Tanya that the only way she can free herself from shame and guilt is by becoming a Christian. Tanya flips out (again) and storms out of the bar.

We then find ourselves in Bill’s flashback to childhood. In this room, we are transported back to the 1970′s where Bill (now called Billy) is sitting alone in his bedroom. Who comes knocking on the door but Mr. Walker, your friendly neighborhood pedophile who proceeds to sit on Billy’s bed. The lights suddenly go out, and molestation is insinuated but of course nothing graphic happens. I have to admit, Judgement House’s don’t-show-the-monster cinematic technique was very, very good. My friend later recalled, “I wanted to get all Jewish mother on him and beat the crap out of that actor”. My favorite part of the molestation scene was that Mr. Walker looked like the uncle from Napoleon Dynamite.

The choice to use molestation as the theme of the play was wise. Other forms of Judgement Houses have used abortion, homosexuality, and school shootings. Judgement House (which is a pre-packaged church product sold online) focuses on non-controversial subject matter that is still shocking, but isn’t going to lose people too quickly. This is wise. I can see liberals going into these things and losing the message when their favorite political button gets pushed. No one, except Mr. Walker The Pedo-stached, would think molestation was a good thing.

Back to Tanya. We are lead outside to the scene of an accident. Tanya tried to drive drunk, and of course, is splattered out on the concrete with Jake dead in the car as well. Bummer.

This is where things get really freaky. Like…woah.

Our next stop is the Judgement Room. There, a St. Peter-esque character proceeds with judging Tanya and Jake. Tanya, of course, goes to hell and Jake goes to heaven. The part that really bothered me was the “interactive” aspect of this scene. The angelic figure called out the names of three people from our group, myself included, and asked us to rise. I did, grudgingly. He then told us that we had a choice between heaven and hell and asked what we make our choice. We never get to choose, as everyone is then escorted out of the room and into the hell scene. I think my major beefs with this Judgement Room are that they didn’t pronounce my name correctly. Also, why did I get picked to be one of the judged? What did my card say that spelled, “evil Heeb”? And lastly, isn’t G-d supposed to be the judge, not some random angel? Oh, well.

Now we’re in hell, which is decorated like a coffee shop. Demonic figures read the newspaper (apparently hell is a big fan of USA-Today). Tanya walks in, and Satan tells her that she is in hell. Tanya gets dragged off to be tortured forever. Satan then breaks the “third wall” by telling the audience that the majority of people in the world go to hell and he looks forward to seeing us there. Majority? Yikes.

Next, we’re at the gravesite of Mr. Walker. Bill/Billy is now much older. He has been looking for Mr. Walker so he could confront him. Crying by the gravesite, Bill tells Mr. Walker that he has found Jesus and forgives him for the pain and shame that he put him through. Again, shame and guilt.

A new character walks into the room, someone we have never seen before. He then offers to lead everyone in prayer. Me and my friend of course were wide eyed, looking at each other with a collective, “why did we think this was a good idea” glare. The man asked in several different ways if the group would like to commit or recommit to Christianity. We later speculated if he was the pastor of the church.

We are now in heaven, which looks like the set of the Trey Parker and Matt Stone play, The Book of Mormon. A very Anglo Jesus, pierced hands and all, is standing with a court of teenaged angels who dance and sing about him. After a Sparkle Motion style dance number to some Contempo-Christian-Rock, Jesus tells us to choose him as messiah. Jesus then walks up to each member of the audience and shakes their hand, welcoming them to heaven. When he got to me, I refused to shake his hand…not because I wouldn’t shake hands with an actor who is convinced I am going to hell, but because I have a cold and didn’t want the actor to get sick. I’m polite, I guess. Two of the young angels announce that “Jake is here!” and we see good ol’ Jake and Jesus paling around together.

We leave heaven and are escorted to a hallway, where we are given the opportunity to speak with counselors and to pray with people or accept Jesus. My friend gave me a nod like, “you know you want to say something, so go in there and give it to them”. I didn’t. What is the use? They think I’m going to burn for eternity, and I’m on their turf. Besides, that’s what blogging is for.

We left, went back to her house, and had hummus and eggplant pie (the recipe will soon be on NewKosher).

I’m a very ecumenical person. I believe, as all good Jews believe, that the righteous of all faiths will inherit the world to come. But I have to say, Judgement House, and it’s many forms (Hell House, Hells Gate, etc.) are the sickest, most twisted thing I have ever experienced in my life.

The common words used in the play are “guilt” and “shame”. It’s true that people who suffer sexual abuse do have these kinds of feelings. Throughout the play, we are exposed to what Bill and Tanya have used as coping mechanisms. The unfortunate part is that the language of guilt and shame are so fluid, that we lose sight as to whether the shame and guilt that Jesus takes away from an individual is the shame and guilt of their coping mechanisms or the shame and guilt of molestation. This disturbs me. Victims should not feel guilt and shame for their abuse and on top of that, should not feel shame for their coping mechanisms. If you have suffered trauma and are using chemicals to cope with it, don’t feel shameful. You have earned the right to that bottle of booze. Rather, ask yourself if that’s how you really want to live…and if you want something else, seek professional help. Don’t feel guilty!

I wonder what would happen if victims of childhood abuse were brought to this play. How would they feel about the presentation?

The black and white nature of the evangelical heaven/hell scenario also bothers me quite a bit. At one point, Bill tells Mr. Walkers grave that he hopes he accepted Jesus in his lifetime. Really? I refuse to worship a G-d that lets Mr. Pedophile off the hook and makes Tanya the broken alcoholic who was raped by her mom’s boyfriend burn for eternity.

This leads me to two points about Jewish life. First, these Christian evangelists have a very clear, black and white message. We don’t. And I think that is a problem.

Why should Jewish people continue with Jewish life? Continuity? The Holocaust? Tradition? It’s a vague thing where everyone decides what they think is important. I like that! But in reality, the evangelicals have a much stronger, more powerful message. As someone who spent years in marketing, I can tell you that a clear, focused mission statement and brand are crucial. I worry that we, the Jewish people, don’t have that.

Secondly, I am worried about how all of this plays into our support for Israel. It’s no secret that evangelicals are a huge support base for Israel. In fact, one of the actors in the play was wearing an Israel/America pin. But if you believe that the Jews are going to hell (like everyone else who isn’t a Christian), then take that pin off your jacket. You can’t support Israel while not supporting the Jewish people. It’s a contradiction of the worst kind. I understand that evangelicals believe we are going to hell. But you know what? I don’t worry about going to hell. The Jewish people have been to hell and back already!

So in closing, I think we should have our own Judgement House. I would call it Holocaust House. It starts with the last few scenes of Anne Frank’s life. We are then lead into a gas chamber where she and her family die. Next, we go into a crematoria and watch her body get turned to ash. Finally, we end up in the hell room, where she and her entire family burn for eternity. Why? Apparently a nazi storm trooper TRIED to get them to accept Christ, but they wouldn’t. And that’s a darn shame.

Sounds harsh? You bet! But here’s the thing: if you really do believe that life, and more specifically, the afterlife, is that cut and dry, then you have to believe that six million victims of the Holocaust are in hell. It’s intellectually dishonest not to. The writers of Judgement House were able to believe that someone like Tanya the Boozehound would go to hell, because she did “terrible things” to cope with her pain. There’s a certain element of “you deserved it” in that kind of writing. If you take it out of that context, and into a context where a completely innocent person is doomed for eternity, suddenly, things seem a little different.

I don’t believe that most Christians feel the way that Judgement House presents the afterlife. I’ve met way too many cool Christians, particularly in the Emergent Church, who would call these walking dramas a sin themselves. I hope for a time where things like Judgement Houses, or Hell Houses, or whatever you want to call them, are a relic of the past. K’hi ratzon, may it be G-d’s will.

Share this:

I have counted endless Facebook Flame Wars about whether or not the sky is falling on Jewish start ups. I’ve seen the older folks wave their fingers at us good-for-nothing kids who really need tote the party line and stop building silly websites. I’ve seen non-profit consultants wax poetic about “innovation”. And yet, in all this, no one has thought to ask the artists on JDUB anything about the label.

Why? I post this question to you, Jewish media…why has no one interviewed any JDUB bands?

This is the part where you expect a conspiracy theory on my end. But you won’t get one. There’s plenty of really long articles out there by people who didn’t work for JDUB about what-went-wrong.

But JDUB critiques are like memories of Studio 54: if you can remember it, you weren’t really there.

I reached out to several artists, but due to time restraints, the only person who could be interviewed in time for publishing of this article was The Gangsta Rabbi, whose album came out just before mine did.

Here’s what Steve had to say about JDUB. I hope this article will be the last article ever written about what-went-wrong-with-JDUB.

What was it like to be on JDUB?

The greatest thing about being on JDub is that it finally gave me some long sought after credibility. Being on the label that launched Matisyahu and a score of equally good and better artists made me look less of the novelty (which is not bad in itself) and more viable in the industry.

Any special memories…from being on JDUB?

JDub treated their performers special. My two visits to their offices were also memorable on how I was treated by all. That’s so important.

What are your plans now? Releasing on your own? A new label?

I released the first sixteen [albums] on my own and will do the same for numbers nineteen through one hundred plus. As for a new label, I’ll be 104 when that happens, so I will become a baseball player while I wait!

Alicia from Girls In Trouble was also on hand to give a quick statement:

Editors note: it has come to our attention that Jacob Berkman (aka Fundermentalist) may be interviewing some JDUB bands. We will update this article if that is the case.

Share this:

Bein ha-Metzarim is the period between the 17th of Tammuz and Tisha B’Av. It’s a time of mourning for the loss of the Temple and the exile of the Jews from Israel. And during this time, you’re not supposed to shave, get a haircut, get married, or listen to music.

Wait…no music? No way dude. I’m not into it. This “Three Weeks” thing isn’t my scene.

It’s not that I’m irreligious. Hardly. I probably read the Torah and Talmud every day. It’s an occupational hazard of working for PunkTorah. My problem really stems from the faulty logic that surrounds The Three Weeks.

I really hate the idea of Tradition-Becomes-Law, and clearly that’s what The Three Weeks are about. Prohibitions about what kinds of prayers you can say, kinds of meat you can eat, how hot your bath water should be…these are all made up by rabbis just to torture you. These cultural traditions get codified over time, which is odd given that the G-d explicitly says not to add or take away anything from the Torah (Deut. 4:2, 12:32). Since I’m not Ashkenazic (or Sephardic, for that matter) I have a hard time believing that I should follow the laws of a culture I do not belong to, especially if they are passed off as law when they clearly are not.

Secondly, I don’t think that the Jews being scattered through the Diaspora is worth three weeks without your ipod. I’m of the opinion that Jews are in the Diaspora because G-d wants us to “take it to the streets”, as you might say. For me, the Temple is a metaphor for hiding, of locking ourselves away from the rest of the world. Now it’s time to leave the Temple-in-our-minds-and-hearts and be with other nations, so that we can share our values and wisdom with the world, as well as learn from others. I don’t think this is an idea worth mourning; I think it’s worth honoring.

I’ll go to a Tisha B’Av service. I’ll be a part of community. I’ll reflect on what it means to be a people without a Temple. I’ll do all of it, because I love it and I live it. But, in the words of Charelton Heston, I’ll give you my ipod when you take it out of my “cold, dead hands.” And he was Moses, so it doesn’t get more legit than that.

Share this:

The elegant poetry of this design choice was immediately apparent and delightful in a way that brightened the rest of my day.

It isn’t often that the tools we use to find out way both physically and spiritually are so nicely juxtaposed. Such a siddur ensures that we are facing Jerusalem literally and figuratively. It expresses the idea that we need tools to ensure we don’t lose our way. It admits to the reality that navigating a particular path can be a challenge. It also suggests that the owner is willing – if not to lead – then to help chart a course.

Very few items combine elements of the physical and of faith like this, and I have deep respect to the person who first thought of it.

Cross posted at EdibleTorah.

Share this:

Whatever God you don’t believe in, I don’t believe in either

It is very easy to be an atheist when you see God as the parent in the sky throwing down lightning bolts like Zeus. Reading the Torah with a literalist view, God seems like the kind of character that no modern, sensible person would believe in.

Very few people, however, actually believe in this kind of God, me being one of them. I think what my atheist friends have a problem with is not God, but rather a concept of God that conflicts with science and progressive philosophy.

Knocking over this proverbial “straw man” is simple, and that’s why atheist writers in debate will actually mock the God concept. If you build God in an image that’s easily defeated, then guess what, you’ll win every argument! But this isn’t the God that most people believe in, myself included.

God is not in your science book, and science is not in my God book

Just as it is easy to knock over a caricature of God, so is it easy to knock over the fundamentalist believer. When we allow the religious person to be someone who is outdated, rigid, backwards and prejudice, then it’s easy to denounce religion entirely. If all I saw in the religious landscape was fundamentalists, I wouldn’t be that religious either.

This is not an Orthodox vs. non-Orthodox issue either. The more one studies kabbalah, reads sacred text and speaks with learned people, the less the Parent-In-The-Sky-God seems to be obvious. I will never forget the Orthodox rabbi who told me he wasn’t sure what God was. That’s religion at its best!

You believe in something, whether you believe it or not

Instead of focusing the God conversation on Pat Robertson-ism versus Richard Dawkins-ism, I think we need to focus instead on what I consider to be the key parts of genuine spiritual experience: faith, rapture and covenant.

Faith is about allowing oneself the permission to not have all the answers and to dwell in the mystery. Science is like that. Science is agnostic on everything until proven otherwise.

Whether we like it or not, we put faith in things. I have faith that my mother loves me. I have no way of proving it — it could be that she took care of me as a child for fear of social reprisal, that she sent me to college so that I could get away from her faster, that she supported my marriage and came to my wedding because it meant that I was “someone else problem”. Never the less, I have a strong conviction that her love is real.

It’s not hard for a believer to put his/her faith in God. We feel God in the same way that we feel love with people. A stranger walking down the street has no reason to love my wife because they have no person experience with her. In the same way, a non-believer who has no experience with God has no reason to have what some might call “perfect faith”.

Rapture is about being caught up and enveloped by the experience of the transcendent. This is not just a religious experience, either. Gazing at the stars and becoming aware of one’s smallness and preciousness in the universe is the same kind of feeling. This sense of losing control and submitting to an experience that is somehow beyond oneself is how the theist experiences God, and the way that atheists experience other things.

Covenant is the final piece of the God puzzle, and yet the trickiest part for most non-believers. Theists, because they have experienced the first two ingredients in a belief in God, easily live in a covenant with their Creator. Atheists, on the other hand, lack the first two experiences as they relate to the divine and therefore cannot stand covenant, as it seems like arbitrary nonsense. I can understand that. But it’s important to me for my atheist friends to know that I am forced into a sense of covenant because my experience of rapture and faith put me there. Covenant is not about fearing God’s celestial finger pointing, but rather a logical extension of an experience.

Religions don’t kill people…people kill people

Religions on their own do not promote violence, bigotry, genocide, sexism or any of the other things that my atheist friends are convinced they do. In reality, it’s violent, bigoted, genocidal, sexist people using whatever tools they have at their disposal who promote all of our social ills.

The only reason you feel the way you do is that the wrong people have given you the wrong message about religion

I’m not out to convince anyone to believe in a higher power. But I do think it is time that theists “come out of the closet” and commit to active religious lives in full view of the public. We need to show people who use God as a vehicle for social control and manipulation that the creator of the universe is beyond agenda.

The best way to make an atheist is to give a person a negative experience with religion. The more positive experiences we can give, the better.

Share this:

Sexism plays a role, but not the generic No-Girls-Allowed kind of sexism. This sexism is rooted more in a institutional bias about what it takes to promote a synagogue.

As Rabbi Judith Hauptman, a JTS professor says,  “they prefer a man — a married man with a baby — so their congregants can relate to him.”

I have a sense that what this is really about is attracting young families. After all, a fifty year old man who has never been married and has no children (and never will) could care less about a young married man with an adorable Jewish wife and rugrat. Shuls want a rabbi that looks like the kind of people they want in the synagogue or the person who symbolizes what a rabbi should look like, think like, talk like and act like. This is why I blog instead of pounding my first on the bimah. No one wants to see a tattooed little man yelling about midrashim — unless it’s on YouTube.

Someone recently told me that like a good politician, a rabbi for today is “someone you can go have a beer with.” That may be true. However, how about rabbis you can do yoga with? Be pregnant with? Or even better…go through menopause and the loss of a parent with?

I also point the finger at the rabbinical schools, giving false hope of a job to rabbinical students to begin with. There is no profession in the world where getting a part time job after six years of education and over one hundred thousand dollars in tuition costs is considered successful. So why do we count that as a gainfully employed rabbi?

The female rabbinical students at JTS are clearly suffering from institutionalized sexism. But I ask you, should we really be angry at institutions because of their sexism…or for being so…institutional??

Share this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3j4VNv0qgT4

Source text can be downloaded here.

Share this:

When are we going to have a PunkTorah convention…

I want you to build a OneShul synagogue in my basement…

Everyone has dreams for PunkTorah. That’s how we created OneShul, 3xDaily and The G-d Project.

On Thursday, May 12th, PunkTorah will have its one year board meeting where we will discuss the future of Punktorah. This includes all the programs, websites, fundraisers and other projects we will do for the next year…and our plans for the next five years.

Submit what you want PunkTorah to do from now through next April, and we’ll make it happen! Not sure what to say? Here’s a few questions to start you off…

What is your idea for a PunkTorah project?

How much do you think this would cost to do? How long would it take?

Are you willing to volunteer your time and/or fundraise to make this happen?

ALL THE IDEAS EMAILED TO US WILL BE PRESENTED AT OUR 2011 BOARD OF DIRECTORS MEETING.

Share this:

I live in the Bible Belt, so I know a thing-or-two (or twelve) about the Religious Right in this country. The one thing I know for sure: they sure are smart.

Am I saying that I want to leave the Chosen People for Protestant Paradise? No! But I do have to give credit where credit is due.

The evangelicals in this country are amazing communicators, sales people and networkers. All the things that Jews pride themselves on being, Christians have managed to do, times one-thousand. And it’s time that we learned the secrets of the Christian world, in order to better improve things for our slice of society.

What I have done is laid out ten things that I watch my Evangelical neighbors do, that I feel would strengthen the Jewish community. Call it, “Habits of Highly Effective Hebrews.”

Free Breakfast: if you want to see the smartest Christian ministry inthe world, visit www.freebreakfastchurch.com. The site of The Courageous Church (an urban, contemporary evangelical ministry),”Free Breakfast Church” offers free breakfast every Sunday, open to the public. You are invited afterwards to attend services, but are not compelled. It’s better than one of those Timeshare Condo deals! And it works. The church is growing like a wildfire.

You’re probably thinking, “hey jerk, synagogues do this on Shabbat all the time!” But remember, synagogues are only doing it on Shabbat. There are other times when people need to eat. So why not do a middle of the week pancakes and minyan?

Having Some Pride: an annoying thing about the Christian Evangelicals: they’re just so full of themselves. And darn right for it. They think they have the monopoly on the afterlife. Wouldn’t that make you feel proud, too?

Jewish pride is a strange thing. We’re proud about surviving Hitler and our kugel recipes, but you never see Jews openly talking about the transformative experience of lighting a menorah or watching your child’s bar/bat mitzvah. Christians will go on for hours about how great Jesus has been in their lives. Jews  will go on for hours about how they saved money on their car insurance. The bottom line is that we need to make Jewish spirituality so magical that it makes you bust apart at the seams.

Make Denominations Irrelevant: luckily this is already happening, although the different “brain trusts” in the Reform, Conservative, Orthodox and Reconstructionist movements are trying their best to combat it. The Evangelical movement is decentralized, yet they talk about “The Church” as if all Christians, regardless if they go to Faith Harvest Ministry or Harvesting Faith Ministry, are a part of one body.

Jews tend to pick their shul based on family background, location, whether or not they feel like they “fit in” with the congregation and if the synagogue addresses their issues the way they want them to. But in reality, the distinction between Conservative and Reform, Reconstructionist and Renewal is blurred beyond belief. This will help us a lot by getting more Jews involved in fewer congregations. This concentration of power, with the right tools and leadership, could create a Jewish Spiritual Renaissance.

Getting Involved: it’s all about Tikkun Olam, baby! The problem is, when we try to repair the world “Jewishly”, our Jewishness tends to overshadow the good we are trying to do. Saving Darfur is great, but relying on Holocaust guilt and the local Jewish museum to help is not the way to do it.

If you look at Christian ministries that work in social activism, the heart of “why” they do it is the love of G-d. When you look at why Jews do social activism, it seems to be less invigorated. We do things because it’s “the right thing to do” but this doesn’t have the spiritual power that it needs to convey the importance of the mission. Instead of saying, “Jews believe in Tikkun Olam, so we started an anti-hunger program, hope you like it”, Jews should say, “G-d commands us to feed every poor person in the world. By donating to the food bank, you are doing G-d’s will on Earth. Would you like to be a part of G_d’s plan?”

Reach Out To People: Jews have this bizarre “if we build it, they will come” attitude about houses of prayer. We somehow think that if we create a congregation and let Jews know about it, that people will naturally come in. Once we have them in, we just worry about keeping them there.

Christians see it differently. They see any opportunity to get-the-word-out about their church as some kind of divine mandate. When I go to the county fair, I’m surrounded by church booth after church booth, many of the same Southern-Bapti-Costal blood. But they push and push to make themselves known.

Jews, traditionally, don’t care. We get some families together, pool some money for siddurim and oneg, and hope to one day have a building with a Judaica giftshop and day care center.

If we really cared about what we are doing, we’d get out there more! So many secular, atheist and unaffiliated Jews would have interest in what your synagogue had to offer, if only you would throw them a rope. People don’t often go “searching” for a spiritual home. Often, it takes a caring person to bring them in.

So my question to you is, which of these habits are you going to pick up?

Share this:

The Jewish world has its own options, depending on what slice of the Jewish pie you are a part of.

For the frum among us, there is Tifereth Israel Yeshiva, a distance learning yeshiva. Their site doesn’t say anything about what you learn.

Chabad got in on the act with Online Smicha, a project of Lubavitch Minnesota. Not surprising, this program is focused entirely on halachka, so if you are Hebrew language-less and/or not Orthodox, you’re out of luck.

And now the rest of us…

Aleph – The Alliance For Jewish Renewal is the only “movement” with distance learning for rabbis. It takes about six years and requires a lot of time at Jewish conferences and involvement with Renewal communities. Jewish Renewal was founded by Rabbi Zalman Schachter-Shalomi.

Rabbinical Seminary International was founded as a Jewish seminary by ex-Chassidic rabbi Joseph H. Gelberman who also founded an interfaith seminary years later. It is now run by Rabbi Roger Ross. The program is self study and mentorship focused on Jewish spirituality and less on Jewish law and other things that RSI considers to be impractical in today’s Jewish environment.

American Seminary for Contemporary Judaism has a similar program to RSI, however, it has less of the interfaith language and does mention the importance of learning Jewish law, text, ritual and kashrut. One of the rabbis who founded ASCJ is a graduate of Tifereth Israel Yeshiva, one of three Orthodox online yeshivot.

The Jewish Spiritual Leadership Institute is the project of Rabbi Steven Blaine, a graduate of Rabbinical Seminary International. A one year program, the site is built around a weekly chavurah of students and Rabbi Blaine using web conference software. It seems to focus less on rituals, Hebrew and formal study of Jewish text and instead looks at contemporary Jewish issues.

Share this:

It’s pretty cool to have a day job that involves writing and editing a siddur. But to be honest, at the end of the day, I really just looked forward to blasting my stereo on the way home from the office.

I imagine that the siddur is a mix tape of lamentations to G-d. And with that in mind, I tried to craft a playlist that, for me, would be the equivalent of a morning prayer service (Shacharit). Here’s my best shot:

Here Comes Your Man – The Pixies

The perfect song to start off your audio davening, the chorus “here comes your man” is like a blessing before study, leading you with its pop sweetness onto the stronger stuff, like an audio gateway drug.

G-d Only Knows – The Beach Boys

“G-d only knows what I’d be without you” is an amazing line that captures yearning and the essence of the morning blessings.

Heartbeats – The Knife

The daily sacrifice is found in Orthodox siddurim, and a song by a band called The Knife only seems appropriate when dealing with issues of animal slaughter. Plus, I couldn’t think of a good metal transition from The Beach Boys…but I’m open to suggestions.

Lips Like Sugar – Echo and the Bunnymen

A darkwave song that reminds me of Psalm 30, since the psalm is about turning “mourning to dancing” and that’s about as goth as it gets (or maybe it would be more goth if it turned dancing into mourning?)

Breed – Nirvana

And speaking of mourning, Breed by Nirvana is my mourner’s kaddish. You’d think this kaddish would have reference to the dead or something dark (like Echo and the Bunnymen) but remember that Mourner’s Kaddish as a prayer never actually talks about the dead. Nirvana is so iconic (as is this kaddish in the Jewish prayer ritual) that I can’t help but put the two together.

Hellelujah – Jeff Buckley

Jeff Buckley’s cover of Leonard Cohen is the musical equivalent of the Shema.

I Was A Desert - Girls In Trouble

The Amidah, for me, is like a roller coaster. I start off with a slow build with the “Elohei Avraham, Sarai, Yitzak, etc. etc.” then go full steam with the chest striking. That’s what this song is like for me: layer after layer of guitars and percussion adding up to the explosion of “I was a desert until I learned to make the sky rain down on me.”

La Serena - DeLeon

Kaddish is one of those things where the element of group prayer really comes together. Since I like singing this song to myself in the car, it’s close enough to congregational prayer.

Modern Love – David Bowie

I think I would end my audio morning service with an Aleinu from David Bowie, especially since this song says “modern love puts my trust in G-d and Man” and Deuteronomy 4 talks about the idea of G-d being G-d alone…a similar, powerful statement.

And now for the Tehilim, the Psalms that you study after the service. For me, these are the songs that on their own don’t do it for me, but in this combo, really give me that extra boost…like a sonic cup of coffee.

Salvation – The Cranberries

Oh Lord – The Brian Jonestown Massacre

All Women Are Bad – The Cramps

Your Mangled Heart – The Gossip

Love Will Tear Us Apart – Joy Division

That Great Love Sound – The Raveonettes

Samson – Regina Spektor

Never Gonna Give You Up – Rick Astley

Kool Thing – Sonic Youth

The World’s A Mess, It’s In My Kiss – X

Photo stolen from AmericanApparel.com.

Share this:

My wife turned to me and said, “see, this is why Judaism isn’t the fastest growing religion in the world. Does this look fun to you??”

And she’s right. Passover kinda sucks.

Passover has had a few cool marketing makeovers through the years including:

The Maxwell House coffee Haggadah, which you can find in piles of thirty to fifty in the attic of every Ashkenazic Jewish woman over fifty-five.

The Chocolate Seder, which I believe was introduced by the Reform movement when someone realized, “hey, the Christians have eggs, too!”

The Rugrats Passover Episode, Let My Babies Go!, which is only rivaled by the Rugrats Hanukkah episode and that episode of Hey Arnold where the school bully has his bar mitzvah.

I’ve had several friends tell me that Passover is their favorite Jewish holiday. I even had a rabbi tell me that, according to his opinion, Passover should be the start of the calendar year because apparently it was at some point until the Apple-and-Honey-Festival kicked it out.

Frankly, though, I really don’t like Passover. Matzah doesn’t thrill me. The seder isn’t that meaningful to me. Really, my favorite parts of Passover are the mad rush of Orthodox women in my neighborhood fighting through the kosher section and the corn-syrup free Coca Cola that has those yellow caps we know and love.

Is there something wrong with me that the Hillel sandwich and opening the door for the prophet Elijah just doesn’t do anything for me?

Share this:

Why do people love Chabad so much? I think it’s because Chabad know’s they’re awesome and don’t give a damn what you think.

Take a look at the first sentence of the Chabad FAQ page:

Chabad-Lubavitch is a philosophy, a movement, and an organization. It is considered to be the most dynamic force in Jewish life today.

I like how assertive that is! Frankly, it’s manly. If Chabad were a man, it would be the kind of man that other men want to be and that women want to have a one-night stand with.

Compare that to statements on the Reform website:

The great contribution of Reform Judaism is that it has enabled the Jewish people to introduce innovation while preserving tradition, to embrace diversity while asserting commonality, to affirm beliefs without rejecting those who doubt, and to bring faith to sacred texts without sacrificing critical scholarship.

This statement really bothers me because it’s boring. But also, its tone is very apologetic. It’s like the Reform movement is sorry that it’s innovating and that it promises it’s still traditional Judaism. I think more people would support the Reform movement if their statement said, “look, this isn’t Orthodoxy. This isn’t Israeli-approved Torah derech. Deal with it. We’re 40% of the population and growing.”

OK, so what does the Conservative/Masorti movement have to say for itself?

What is Masorti Judaism? This is not an easy question to answer.

Wow. You are part of something and you can’t even explain it. Maybe that’s why Conservative Judaism is in decline.

Chabad has taken over the Jewish world because it’s bold. You may not like it, but it doesn’t care. And people, I think, respect that. No one likes a wimp.

So my question is this: why is Chabad so bold and why are the other movements (Orthodox and otherwise) so passive?

Share this:

-Laws of the written Torah we can follow (not lying or murdering people)

-Laws of the written Torah we cannot follow (animal sacrifice, slaying Amelekites)

-Laws of the Mishna Talmud that ancient rabbis thought we should follow (prayer, Shabbat candles)

-Laws agreed upon through Gemara (the how-to of the Mishna)

-Laws expanded on or contracted down by brilliant rabbis (RamBam, etc)

-Minhag, or the customs that somehow became law even though that somewhat violates written Torah to begin with

If you’re a minhag-loving Orthodox person, then all these laws work together and make perfect sense. And I have to be honest, I kinda like that. It’s the same reason I love Christian Fundamentalists: G-d said it, I believe it, I do it. That’s livin’ if you ask me.

But most people (myself included) don’t live like this, Orthodox or not. I know Hassidic guys who won’t thank G-d for making them a man instead of a woman, I know Conservative clergy who won’t push the blue books on you after eating a lusty amount of bread, and Reform rabbis who are convinced that it takes a year or more to convert to Judaism, even if the Reform movement rejects all rituals or statements of belief in order to become a Jew By Choice.

It seems that Jewish law is like cafeteria food: pick what you want and put it on your plate. Taste good? Eat some more. Taste bad? Don’t eat it next time. And to be honest, that doesn’t bother me.

If Halachka were an all-or-nothing proposition, I think most people would say “no thank you, I’ll just be totally secular and not care about Judaism at all. Thank you for saving me a ton of time!” Granted, there is that rare convert who goes from ulta-not-caring-about-anything-to-black-hat -in-Williamsburg but that is a very, very rare case. Most people that I’ve seen go frum (and I use that term very loosely) tend to be people who got turned onto G-d and took on some extra mitzvot because it made them feel good, brought them into the community, and in some cases was a substitute for something more dangerous like drugs or a career in the music industry.

I also think it’s possible to over do it, if one isn’t careful. Waking up one day and deciding to wear two hats, anally checking every hekscher symbol and painstakingly setting your phone to remind you an hour in advance of Shacharit, Mincha and Maariv based on the Chabad calendar is a lot to do when you’re used to ham sandwiches and shul twice a year.

That’s why the cafeteria mitzvot make sense. Pick up what you can, and see how it works out. You might like the taste of it and come back for more.

Share this:

But then I realized that RRC actually said something that I didn’t like: that the PunkTorah community is “virtual”.

The term “virtual” can mean a lot of different things, depending on the context. Obviously what RRC was saying is that they love our “online” community. No harm, no foul. But we really do need to be careful about how we use language. Frankly, this is a conversation that is well overdue.

“Virtual”, as it is sometimes applied by others outside of PunkTorah to our community can mean “not in fact or reality”, “simulated”, or “almost, but not really”. As one person put it, “your online community is nice, but it’s not enough.”

I have partied, shared meals, had long conversations and in some cases shared hotel rooms and apartment floors with people from the PunkTorah community. If our interaction with one another was “virtual”, then we would have never had these moments together. I’ve seriously considered temporarily relocating to cities where members of the PunkTorah community are, so that we can continue to grow our online chavurah and provide further support to our prayer leaders.

I’ve listened to stories from people all over the world whose physical communities either abandoned them or never wanted them in the first place. And our community has welcomed them, no questions asked, to be a part of our…dare I say…Jewish family. That’s more than I can say of some of the physical, “real” Jewish communities I’ve encountered.

What is “virtual community”? It’s the synagogue whose rabbi has to tell everyone during the service to introduce themselves and shake hands, because open acts of kindness and hospitality are so rare. It’s the minyan members that ignore new people who wallflower at an oneg, because they are so vested in themselves. It’s the shul that asks people it deems to not be Jewish to step aside during Kaddish or act as Shabbos Goyim during a Friday night dinner. It’s the Jewish non-profits who speak the language of diversity, but in the end are run entirely by middle age, heterosexual Ashkenazic white men with Ph.Ds who are more interested in gala banquets and meaningless conferences than having a heart-to-heart with someone in need.

Bottom line: there’s nothing “virtual” about the PunkTorah family. We’re here, we’re real, get used to it.

*This is not to say that Reconstructionists are any more genuine than any other movement, so don’t take that the wrong way.

Share this:

If I were a real Jew, I’d be a Crustie.

Crusties are a subculture of urban nomads with ties to the gutter punk and hippie movements. The actual term “Crustie” comes from the crust that develops on your newly pierced body, though Crusties are known more for being dirty, smelly, hungry and perpetually homeless. Many have quasi-anarchist political leanings that are anti-capitalist and anti-conformity.

While true Crusties in the 80′s and 90′s sense don’t exist like they used to, homeless Travel Kids who adopt the nomadic lifestyle are in full force. I’ve known a few and they have a pretty interesting perspective on life.

The Jewish People have been crusty Travel Kids for generations. Only now have we truly settled down in the Western World and made a mainstream name for ourselves.

Part of me regrets that. I sometimes wish the Jews were still wandering. I wish we weren’t so settled.

For a long time, Michael and I have been talking about getting a van and traveling around America, helping small Jewish communities have services and Torah study. While we are both married, and he has a kid and is attending school, that aching part of yourself that wants to get rid of the apartment, sell your stuff, and live like a bohemian never goes away.

Shlomo Carlebach had it right: go forth and be blameless, just like our father Abraham. Be a nomad. Go where the people need you. Be a Crustie Travel Kid, for HaShem. They’ll call you a hippie, a loser, a rebel, an anti-social misfit. But G-d smiles and that’s what’s important.

Share this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tAwHiQ8D4tk

Share this:

As the intelligent Sue Fishkoff asks, in an article on jweekly.com, “What’s the largest kosher restaurant chain?”. Her answer is interestingly Subway. Subway plans to have 11 kosher stores by the end of 2010. The five branches of Dougie’s barbecue in Brooklyn are also kosher. Even though Subway will only have 11 kosher stores out of 22,000 subways in the U.S. They are the number one Nationwide kosher group of restaurants. I hope that this is a trend that will continue in the U.S. and spread further abroad. According to findmekosher.com KFC in Israel is going kosher by using soy products. This is both bad and good. Many people want soy because it is a useful alternative to dairy. Some people do not enjoy this as soy is a highly estrogenic product. Completely replacing dairy or meat with soy can cause other dietary issues too. What I can’t wait for is a kosher doughnut shop in my city. There is a kosher Krispy Kream in Virginia and a Dunkin’ Doughnuts in Detroit. How jealous I am.

Why is this issue so important? I believe that this trend can only lead to good things. Knowing that a restaurant has a kosher certification makes me feel more secure that I am purchasing a quality product. I do have to admit the fact that a certification alone does not guarantee the restaurant follows all the rules. This does mean that they are more likely to be in tune with the trend, especially amongst the 20 to 30 some things, to follow ideas like ego-hashrut, vegetarianism, and vegan diets. Although this seems like a very small win, these restaurants signal that the larger population is beginning to understand and cater to alternative groups. I hope this idea will spread into other areas of life.

I find more and more the foods I would choose to buy anyway in a store now carry kosher symbols. We here at Mulberry Manor have made a pledge to make our house kosher. We already are mostly vegetarians and many of our guests are vegan so, we are very conscious of our foods. Now we can buy items in bulk and ensure that we are eating kosher food. Our mantra is “Kosher as F***!”. This may sound crude and a bit radical but a diverse and quite public house is apt to act in such a manner. In short I hope that alternative movements or the punk movement if you will can continue to make strides to normalize diversity, coexistence, and acceptance.

Rivka

Share this:

The blues-rock band that defined my life in 2002 has called it quits. Like any breakup, it was a long time coming but still hurts badly.

photo Patrick Pantono

Share this:

Opening The Gates: An Essay

(Loosening up about faith, welcoming converts, and letting go of the past)

When one thinks of spreading their faith one probably imagines a ‘Jehovah’s witness’ type, going door to door, harassing poor folks about G-d, salvation and the like. Judaism, once upon a time, had its own tradition of proselytizing. In the Roman Empire, Judaism was well known as a missionary faith and accepted converts from all regions of the Empire until the Roman Emperor Hadrian outlawed the practice around 131 C.E. As Jews, we shouldn’t necessarily feel obligated to spread our faith, but at the same time we shouldn’t shy away from talking about it either. The Torah itself specifically commands us to be open to Converts, with the passage of history and in large part due to the Diaspora, Conversion to Judaism has been, up until modern times, largely not talked about openly amongst the Global Jewish community. Biblically, the first Convert to Judaism – Ruth had herself a relatively easy time coming into the community versus the experiences of prospective converts in contemporary times. With that said, it has to be asked, why is it so hard? Why are Converts often subjected to long periods of study and Reflection often lasting a year or more?

Some Rabbinical opinions cite ‘Sincerity of the Convert’ and ‘integration/acceptance into the community’ as being key reasons for such lengthy periods. Jewish communities everywhere are shrinking, areas of the United States where Jewish communities once thrived are now largely faint specters of what once was a mere five years ago. The remedy to our decline lies in future generations, how we continue our traditions and talk about our faith is key to our survival as a people. Halakah, Jewish Law, contrary to some, was intended as malleable work, open to revision and change as the world evolved. While this is not the case for a number of us, and that’s fine, we must confront and adapt to the changes we see around us, more importantly, As Jews, we should not shy away from talking about faith. The Torah teaches to live so as to be an example to the Nations. Sharing our spiritual and religious life with others is a major part of not only our bonds to our brothers and sisters, but also allows those who may be curious or spiritually a glimpse of the Joy and connections Judaism, and religion in general, can provide.

The world Jewish community still forces the global community to be reminded of the Holocaust, and for good reason, that we ‘never forget’. Yet, if we dwell in the past how can we ever look to the future? While Yom HaShoah by its very existence, causes us all, Jew and non-Jew alike, to be mindful of past evils, it should not force us to live in a bubble, Judaism is not some exclusive country club, it is a vibrant and all-inclusive living spiritual tradition that, together with Christianity and Islam, commands the attention of some several million people. If Judaism is to survive into the 21^st century, we as a people must go forward with open hearts, open minds, and, more importantly no fear. The story of the Jews lies in the soil of the fields, from dust we came to dust we return, so lets keep our ears to the ground and our eyes towards Zion.

Bud W. Andrews    2/3/11

Ari Ben-Avraham

Share this:

Photo by Don DeBold. Used by Creative Commons Attribution Copyright.

Adar II  (אֲדָר א) begins at sundown on March 6th, 2011 and ends sundown on April 4th, 2011

~Excerpt from Adar II Guide – Subscribe for Free and Receive the Complete Guide Each Month ~

(Originally posted at PeelAPom.com~Thanks Ketzirah!)

Naphtali is the second son of Jacob and Bilah, a handmaiden of Rachel. His name, as relayed in  Genesis 30:8 means, “ And Rachel said: ‘With mighty wrestlings have I wrestled with my sister, and have prevailed.’ And she called his name Naphtali.”  When I read this, I immediately went to check and see if this was the same word used in Genesis 32:25 to describe Jacob wrestling with the angel, and it is not.  That word seems to be translated “struggled” (יֵּאָבֵק) where as the root of Naphtali’s name (נַפְתּוּלֵי) seems to translate more truly as wrestling, or “twists.”  I find the translation of “twists” to be fascinating.  It seems lighter and less ominous than struggling.

Naphtali is traditionally symbolized by a leaping dear.  This is from Jacob’s blessing in Genesis 49:21, “Naphtali is a hind let loose: he giveth goodly words.”  According to some commentaries, this refers to how quickly the fruit in the tribal district of Naphtali ripened, which gave cause for blessings.  In Moses’ blessing,  Deuteronomy 33:23, Naphtali is describe as, “O Naphtali, satisfied with favour, and full with the blessing of the LORD: possess thou the sea and the south.”  If nothing else we can see from these blessings that Naphtali was favored, and I think good with words.

Let us imagine that the message of Naphtali is that of the poet or minstrel.  If this were not a leap year, the Netivah, face of Shekhinah, associated with the month would be the Fool.  I can easily see Naphtali as the poet-jester,  entertaining us by leaping, dancing and reciting poetry and songs.  So what does that mean in a  leap year?  What happens to Naphtali when the Weaver (אורגת) is our Netivah of the month?  In this case, Naphtali uses his poetic gifts to weave a beautiful tapestry to help us find all the meaning hidden away in the Book of Esther.

The lesson of Naphtali is to use all the powers of dance and verse to uncover the mysteries of the  Book of Esther, to weave our world into a better place.  If G!d(dess) created the world with words, then maybe we affect Tikkun Olam, repairing of the world, or at least Tikkun haNefesh, repairing of the soul, through the power of art, verse, music, and dance.

~Excerpt from Adar II Guide – Subscribe for Free and Receive the Complete Guide Each Month ~

Share this:

Or do we?

The Shema, I think, works on at least three different levels:

Non-Duality. I don’t need to quote massive amounts of text from Jay Michaelson’s recent book to explain this, so I’ll paraphrase: if the great, central teaching of Judaism is that there is one G-d (as opposed to a legion of demiurges), then the Shema should more appropriately read, “Listen Israel, there is one G-d” instead of “our G-d is one.” G-d, in this way, is Oneness. G-d is everything, and yet nothing.

The Politics of Monotheism. We can’t forget that the Torah came at a certain time and at a certain place. The Shemat, as read to Hebrew Canaanites every seven years, would have been a not-too-subtle reminder to smash those Molech idols that many families had in their homes. While some wish to believe that the ancient Israelites were better Jews than us, archeology has dug up (pun intended) plenty of settlements filled with clay idols. Adonai Echad, in this way, is like the guilt trip of times past.

G-d’s Greatness. Again, language is funny. “The Lord” is an obvious statement of power. And while “lord” is often used as a substitute for G-d in the vernacular, it need be said that if the Shema were simply an affirmation of monotheism, the Shema would be better to read, “Hear Israel, G-d is one”. It also speaks to G-d’s providence. Remember that “G-d” is not G-d’s name. G-d’s name is a riddle of “I am what I am”. G-d’s hugeness transcends even the ability to name G-d.

Anything else y’all can think of?

Share this:

This post is courtesy of Justin Corsa, the president of http://www.supertova.com

I’m going to introduce several common tips concerning internet dating in order to help develop your online dating skills. Though, it’s only “internet dating” it still requires a simple set of skills in order to maximize your dating potential.

I’ll begin with photos. I don’t know how to stress this enough. In order to maximize your potential, it’s important to submit a photo. You will receive more views and more messages. That’s the bottom line. If you don’t feel comfortable uploading a photo to an internet dating site, it’s understandable. However, look at it in this perspective. Everyone is on here for the same reason. We are Jewish, single, and actively looking. There’s no reason to hide. Further, when uploading photo, make it a recent one. No sense on posting a photo from 10 years ago. Deceiving someone is not the best way to walk into a first date.

Many people are under the impression that waiting to be contacted is the best way to encounter online dating. They feel, “why should I contact someone? They should be contacting me.” This strategy is probably not the best idea in order to locate your best match. It’s extremely important to utilize the search tool to locate exactly what you’re looking for. Some believe that having a profile is supposed to act like a magnet. It’s never the case. Even if you’re receiving a dozen emails without contacting someone, you are still limiting yourself. The reasoning behind this suggestion is because you could have the “perfect” match on the website, however, you didn’t take the time to look.

You should not feel embarrassed about contacting someone. Get aggressive and reach out to the matches you feel are the best potential (this is for both men and women). The law of probability states that the more people you connect with, the better your chances you will find the best possible match. In addition, the more replies you will receive.

Another important tip is to never get disgruntled if someone doesn’t reply. It happens. It’s happened to me several times; and it happens to everyone. Do not let it bother you; and don’t get angry with the person if they don’t reply. The best thing you can do is move on to someone else. Eventually, someone will reply to you. If someone doesn’t reply after the 2nd email, I wouldn’t send another one. There could be a multitude of reasons why the person didn’t reply. It’s a waste of time to try to figure out exactly what went wrong.

When writing an email to someone, make sure it’s not your typical “cut/paste” email. I learned 15 years ago (when I initially began using the internet as another avenue for dating), that women want to read something sincere. A simple “hi, how are you?” may seem too vague. Talk about something they had mentioned in their profile. They want to know you are actually reading their profile. Put in some effort during the email and I can assure you, the reply volume will increase.

Before meeting someone, you must communicate in depth over the phone. Get a sense of the person before making plans to meet. I strongly encourage you never to rush into it. Get to know the person and if you feel comfortable vocally, go ahead and set a date to meet in person.

Ask for several photos prior to meeting. If someone doesn’t have a photo on their profile and refuses to send one; I’ll leave this one up to you. In my personal opinion, I wouldn’t take the chance. It’s better to put a face to the name. As I always say, it’s not shallow; just being rational.

The best places to meet are public places. Most people feel comfortable in these types of settings. Parks, restaurants, lounges, and museums are great places to meet on a first date. Bars, clubs, and movie theaters are limited with respect to communication. Try to avoid those places. The purpose of the 1st date should ONLY be to get to know each other in order to figure out if a 2nd date is a good idea.

Don’t engage online dating with a negative attitude. If that’s how you enter the arena, you will probably leave the arena with the same attitude. With anything in life, approach everything with a positive attitude. You will develop more positive results.

Please. If you don’t receive any messages; and you have not made any effort in contacting someone, the only person you can blame is yourself. You cannot approach internet dating; or any other dating, with laziness.

Good Luck to everyone!

Share this:

In size and scope, as well as organization, Maimonides’ Mishneh Torah ranks among the greatest and most innovative Jewish legal texts of all time. In its day, it was ground-breaking for its novel system of codifying halakhah. In the more than 800 years since its composition, it remains matchless in its “lucidity and breadth”. By his own account, Maimonides invested ten years of incessant drafting, revising, and editing in this work.

The idyllic world of the Mishnah, however, is not a world of uniformity; far from it. The vast majority of passages in the Mishnah contains a dispute between different rabbinic sages. When does one begin the morning prayers? How does one constitute a Jewish marriage? How much drawn water invalidates a ritual bath? On all of these issues and on thousands of similar issues, the Mishnah includes various opinions. The trouble we have today is that the modern world, the world of technology and tolerance, has yet to see its Maimonides. We don’t have an updated Mishneh Torah. So what do we do? Let’s look closer at what one can do with the law.

Let us work toward the idea that instead of using the law to isolate, we can find ways in the law to make society more open and more tolerant. Where the law is intolerant, let us find justifications for how it can be changed. This leads to questions we must ask about Mishnah. Why are the opinions of the minority included with the opinions of the majority even though the law is not like them? This may be so that a later court can examine their words and might also rely upon them. (Mishnah Eduyot 1:3).

While one could determine law based upon the Mishnah, its intention was to train the sages in thinking through the legal issues that inform the halakhah. Similarly in history each sage, according to his own potential, would write notes for himself of what he heard regarding the explanation of the Torah, its laws, and the new concepts that were deduced in each generation concerning laws that were not communicated by the oral tradition. Using this knowledge base one can deduce and answer new questions of law by using the principles of “biblical exegesis”, that is, critical explanation and interpretation of text.

If we take a look at this line of logic one can see a path toward an answer to many problems of the interpretations of halakhah. The technology generation must learn what has been written by the sages before and try to apply it to life. In our attempts to understand such massive amounts of information we are bound to make our own annotations. In a society such as ours, a globalized tech driving world, we must work to create something like Maimonides work. Just as he took a large amount of complicated and outdated literature and coded it, we must work to insure we do the same. We must continue the quest for critical explanations. In short, “instead of looking to halachka to know what to do, look instead to the problems we have and use halachka for inspiration on how to solve them”.

Rivka

Share this:

It’s cool to imagine the Torah as water. But as a modern reader, I have a really hard time making this poem relevant to my life.

Those who thirst may go to water, but they aren’t going to the tiny drops of streams and rivers. They’re going to the faucet. And if they don’t have a faucet, they are going to a murky puddle poisoned by a chemical waste dump. And of course, this all assumes they can afford it. The writer makes the not-so-timeless assumption that water is free to all. And although water is not kept in silver or gold, it is kept in plastic bottles, a process which is not simple at all.

So what are we supposed to do with this text? I’d love to know your thoughts.

Photo credit to NYTimes.com

Share this:

Yoko Ono had a famous performance artwork called ‘Cut Piece’. Sitting on a bare stage, she placed a pair of scissors before her audience and instructed them that they were to come forward and cut at her clothes.

Some were gentle and tentative, but others took the scissors to Ono’s garments in ways that were starkly violent. And through it all she sat, maintaining her invitation to an arena in which social manners and conventions were themselves cut away, revealing the currents of light and darkness beneath.

The genius of ‘Cut Piece’ is that it provoked a suspension of normal social relations, allowing the audience to step outside of themselves. The results were disturbing – disorienting. They hinted at darkness and horror.

But I want to suggest that Ono’s social-suspension technique shared much with another, different set of techniques, designed to produce a far more positive and joyous insight – the demands and prohibitions of halacha.

Performance art and religious ritual are birds of a feather. They share a concern with rendering the familiar unfamiliar, stimulating a more careful consideration of how and why we do what we do.

Both create space – both physical and psychological. Both poke holes in everyday life and allow something ineffable to shine through. They are disruptions, that take you outside of yourself, emphasise connection through disconnection, and force a discomfort that hints at transcendence.

At the heart of halacha is the notion of separation. The division between what is allowed and disallowed, sanctity and profanity. The separation of food, of individuals, of time.

Shabbat is a work of performance art. It comes with instructions – strict rules that create a disruption in quotidian reality, bringing holiness and reflection and respite.

To put on tefillin is to clear a mental space through physical distinction. To observe kashrut is to force difference and consideration – of origins, of causality.

Through following Ono’s guidelines, the audience created a space through which currents of communication could run, guided by her intentions, channeling unpredictable, unarticulated forces through a relationship that revealed to them something beyond anything they could expect.

How much more must this be so, with rules of a far more sacred kind?

Share this:

Liminal Space - Photo by MSimonLevin, used by Creative Commons Attribution Permissions

~Excerpt from Adar 1 Guide – Subscribe for Free and Receive the Complete Guide Each Month ~

(From Ketzirah at PeelAPom.com)

Adar I (אֲדָר א) is Dinah’s (דִּינָה) month, at least as far as I’m concerned.  Rabbinical tradition equates Naphtali with both Adar I & Adar II in a leap year, but many modern feminists have argued well that the extra month should belong to Jacob’s daughter, the 13th tribe.  Next month, we’ll talk about Naphtali.  This month, we talk about Dinah.  To be honest, I’ve really struggled with whether or not Dinah should be Adar I or Adar II. I’ve gone back and forth dozens of times.  Even while writing this, I struggled. Right or wrong, I needed to choose.

Dinah is the seventh child of Leah and Jacob, and the only named daughter, although Genesis 37:35 indicates there were others.  Dinah’s name means judgement, but I’ve also seen it as “vindicated.”  Her story is one that few women like to read, at least as it is traditionally interpreted.  In Genesis 34, we read of the “rape” of Dinah. It’s an ugly story with very little redeeming value anywhere.

But what if we look at this through another lens?  The ancient rabbis were famous for finding ways to turn stories to meet their needs.  The interpretations of the stories never seem to let the women be seen in a good light.  Sorry, but it’s true for the most part.  Deborah and Hulda are called “conceited and overbearing” and we’re told they are cursed with ugly names.  Really?  Bee and Cat are ugly names?  What about the tradition of giving children “ugly” names to protect them from the evil eye?  But, I digress a touch…

Adar (both I & II) are months of the moon and lunacy.  Adar I is the month of the Kesilah (כְּסִילה), the clown or trickster, who in leap years steals all our holidays away and hides them in Adar II. The letter of the month is  Kuf (ק), which can be a symbol of and literally means monkey (קוף) — the foolishness we generally associate with Purim.  But in this month, the monkey has hidden our holidays and left us standing in a void.  What if the monkey, the trickster, is asking us stand in the center and take a second look at the story of Dinah?

An amazing article in the Jewish Women Comprehensive Historical Encyclopedia points out that the language of rape does not fit the original Hebrew in the story.   As we stand in the void of Adar I in this leap year, I believe the lesson of Dinah is to teach us to read the words anew and look at how those who came before us — and ourselves are influenced by others to interpret situations.  Dinah challenges us to vindicate the women of the Torah by reading their stories with fresh eyes and not layering ancient ideas of women on them.  Dinah challenges to allow the people of Shechem to be the wronged victims here. Is Dinah a victim by just about any reading?  Probably.  But was she a victim of rape or over-zealous violent brothers who did not like the man she chose to marry?

Dinah reminds us that there are at least two sides to every story, and two-thousand interpretations.   She challenges us to stand in the void and center ourselves, and not just take the trickster at her word.

What do you think?

~Excerpt from Adar 1 Guide – Subscribe for Free and Receive the Complete Guide Each Month ~

Share this:

I am just starting to get the hang of reading science fiction. I like to live a very fact based life and find that only some of this genre is appealing. I can not quite grasp the world of fantasy. I bring this up because of two reasons. First Patrick and Michael are awful keen on Star Wars. Second they off handily joked about needing to find or write the great Jewish science fiction book. Thus I sought more information. In this quest of sorts, I found this as my first story, “The Last Demon” by Isaac Bashevis Singer. He was a Jewish American author noted for his short stories. He was one of the leading figures in the Yiddish literary movement, and received the Nobel Prize in literature in 1978.

Let me tell you a bit about the situation the main character, a Demon, ends up in. He was summoned from a larger town to the smallest of villages. His job was to propagate sin. Here is my favorite aspect of this work, Singer begins playing with conventions of language. The Demon says, “Don’t ask me how I managed to get to this smallest letter in the smallest of all prayer books.” This excites me as I often study philosophy of and meaning of word usage. This is an all important part of what makes Judaism a lasting religion, it has become, open to all sorts of new ideas, and a remained a remembrance of the past.

The Demon works on the most pious men in the village to no avail. His imp cohort tries to explain the situation of the change in world order that has occurred thru behavior. The Demon only comes up with questions, “What’s happened? The Holy Spirit grows stronger?” He says in order to make a long story short he has failed his mission and must remain in this tiny pious village. He describes his fate, that he must remain, calling it an “Eternity plus a Wednesday.” What a way to order words to grapple the thought of something more vast then even the imagined, beyond forever.

As The Demon sits, the last of the demons, he reads a Yiddish storybook he found. He says its style is our manner, “blasphemy rolled in piety.” Never the less he says the letters are Jewish, the alphabet they “could not squander”, and he sucks and feeds on each letter. He counts the words. He makes rhymes. And he is tortured in his need to “interpret and reinterpret each dot”. In clinging to meaning, to ever nuance, he is sustained. He is keenly aware of the power of expression. Thus I agree with his emotions when he says, “when the last letter is no more, I’d rather not bring to my lips”.

“The Last Demon” in The Collected Stories of Isaac Bashevis Singer can be found:

Here and Here

Rivka

Share this:

There is no such thing as “converting to Judaism”. You come to Judaism through your own desire to be a part of the peoplehood. Yitro did that when Moses taught him how G-d brought the Hebrews out of Egypt (Exodus 18). Ruth did that when she chose to follow her mother-in-law Naomi instead of returning to her own land (Ruth 1). And don’t forget about Abraham, who had an Obiwan Kenobi and Luke Skywalker on Hoth experience and became the first patriarch. This isn’t some far out hippie idea. Chabad believes it, and so do the Humanistic Jews.

So what does this mean in practical terms? Well, it means that the rules of conversion are…well…kinda contrived. OK, before you start throwing Gemara at me, I do recognize that there are some things that remain common: mikvah, circumcision, a sincere heart, etc. But taking one year, five years, ten years to study Torah, going to JCC classes, joining the “right” synagogue are all rules made up by man in hopes of serving HaShem correctly. For some, that means Satmar Orthodoxy in NYC. For others, that means suburban Reform temples outside Reno, Nevada. Pick your team, and just go for it.

After converting, you’ll be “more Jewish” than a lot of people born into the Jewish people. My wife jokes that I am the Jewiest person she knows. I take that as a compliment. I had to work for it — I didn’t grow up in a Jewish family like some of my friends. And often, I get asked questions about Judaism by my Jewish friends, because I had to study. They didn’t. They came into this world as Jews. Study, for them, was not part of the equation. So don’t be surprised if you find yourself the Torah advisor to people who you think should know better.

You’re still not Jewish to some people. The sad fact is that some people (a small minority, Baruch HaShem) have their own idea about what a real Jewish person is. Whether that’s converting through their system of halachka (Jewish law), or going to their shul or being born into the right kind of Jewish family, this prejudice does exist. Just remember: this is a minority opinion. And just like in the Talmud, the majority wins, even if we do have to listen to the minority opinion.

There’s lots of different kinds of Jewish. Alternative Jewish Spirituality is a lot larger than the oligarchy of Jewish movements wants you to think. Earth based Judaism, Renewal, Independent Minyanim, Reconstructionism, Conservadoxy and Karaism are just a few. And whether anyone wants to admit it or not, these small movements are actually what’s driving Judaism as we know it. So don’t get stuck on The Big Three.

You’re not done yet. Being Jewish is not an end game. Once you take the mikvah dunk, you’re not finished. It’s a lifetime thing. When you first convert, you’ll be “all about Judaism.” But when the honeymoon is over, synagogue won’t always be as fun as it used to. Your beliefs about G-d and life will evolve. Suddenly latkes and yarmulkes just aren’t that interesting. And you know what? That’s OK. Because just like any other relationship, it changes over time. Why shouldn’t your relationship with a five thousand year old religion also change as you grow older?

Share this:

By Heshy Fried (Originally Posted Here)

The RaHaF ZT”L in his sefer nefesh hahesh brings down a story of a man who left his body and went to the beis din sehl mala where he spoke to God about gaining entry into Olam Habah:

I saw a long table that was catered by someone I would have never eaten by in my physical body, it was laid out for all to see and everyone was standing around scratching their heads wondering how a triangle-K caterer got this gig when he came up to the heavens.

God sat at the end of the table eating herring and kichel, talking in Torah to some of the clean shaven folks with knitted yarmulkes, can you imagine that? Imagine the pain I felt when I had to step onto end endless line, let me tell you, this was worse than any DMV you’ve ever been to, there was no information desk. There was only an infinitely long line of black hats stretching for eons, angels poured us drinks, but we noticed that they didn’t have four hechsherim on them so no one took any – the angels looked pleased with this result.

Then I noticed this really quick moving line of people, they all looked different, sure there were some black hat wearers on it, but I saw kippah srugas, women and even a few folks not wearing yarmulkes, I even saw a woman wearing pants and not covering her hair. Our line had no women on it, I assumed because we were the most frum of everyone, I assumed that ours was separate because we were most frum, I assumed it was moving by so slowly because we all had so many mitzvos that it took forever to weigh the scales, watch the video of our lives and receive the obvious entry into gan eden, but this is not what happened.

It seemed like forever, but I finally got my turn, I noticed that the guy before me looked a little shocked, he adjusted his hat, brim down this time and walked solemnly along to his destiny – I wondered if all those stories about us sitting in the bleachers while we watched the gedolim learning in the heavenly beis medrish were true, I really hoped I got a good seat.

God didn’t speak to me, he had a mediator and it wasn’t really a he, someone may say it could have been a she. I asked the mediator if she thought was tznius that I was talking to God via a woman, how they could allow women into such a holy place. God laughed and everything shook, he made the mediator disappear, I heard nods of approval coming from the line behind me, my black hat brethren knew it was untznius – was it true that God gave us yetzer harah’s even in the heavens.

“Why are you shaking like that?” God roared…”do you think shuckeling is something that is appropriate to do when standing in front of a king?”

I had no idea what to say, I honestly thought the faster and more violent you shook during prayer, the better it was, I had seen the other holy people doing it. “I see here in the ledger that you were kind to your in laws” Very important to be kind to those you hate, but what about all of the goyim and non-black hat Jews you disparaged at the shabbos table? “You could have told divrei torah instead”

I tried to speak, but he wouldn’t let me, I felt like Pharaoh having his heart hardened. I wanted to ask him about speaking against those who were evil, the goyim who didn’t keep the shiva mitzvos, the Jews who didn’t keep shabbos, but my mouth was froze as God roared at me again. “You stole, cheated and lied – you cared more about what your fellow man thought than I and for that I sentence you to the mandatory 11 months at the all you can eat Kiddush with long arms tied to the wall”

Unfortunately the sefer hanefesh of the RaHaF was lost, so most people continued to wear black hats regardless of the fact that God didn’t care and besides the RaHaF also known as Rav Heshy Fried Shlita wrote his sefer hanefesh at a time when black hats were worn by the goyim as well, so they may have been a fashion statement rather than the halacha l’maissa they have become today.

Share this:

My mother’s family is Jewish, but my mother converted to Christianity before my brothers and I were born. I was raised in a predominantly Christian household, but now that my mom is in contact with her family a little bit more (they lost contact for a while, but that’s a long story), she’s starting to go back to her Jewish roots, with me leading the way.

For the past 7-8 months, I’ve done nothing but lived, breathed, and ate Judaism. Everything has been about my religion, my religious identity, and where I am in Judaism. So it came as a shock to me when I went to visit a Rabbi  a couple weeks ago and was told I am not, in fact, a Jew, and that I would need to go through the conversion process.

Now let me just stop  right here to say a few things. Before this rabbi, any Rabbi or any one else I had talked to confirmed that I was, in fact, Jewish. They said, “well, once a Jew, always a Jew, and your mothers family is Jewish, as are you”. So I’ve believed I was Jewish, all up until this one man tells me that I’m not.

I didn’t know how that made me feel. I felt almost like a fraud, that I’ve been living a lie by saying I was Jewish, when I, according to this one man, am not.

So what exactly makes someone a Jew? Well, I’ll ignore the Talmud and the Torah for a second to answer just based on what I think. The mentality that “I’m not a true Jew because so and so reasons” got me thinking, who exactly gets to tell me whether or not I’m a real Jew, except for G-d and myself? Sure, the conversion process is a good thing to validate your feelings about the religion, but I know I’m Jewish, with or without it. I don’t need a Rabbi’s confirmation to solidify my faith. I know many people will tell me, “well that’s wrong”, but think about it: your faith is yours alone, and what does a Rabbi do for you that you couldn’t do for yourself by reading books, the Torah, and going to shul, besides taking you to a mikvah and declaring you Kosher? I can understand how one would see the conversion process as helping to weed out the “true believers” from the “nonbelivers”, of course. I’m not saying that we should throw away a tradition (on the contrary, I think that there should be a conversion process), I’m just saying that you shouldn’t let someone else’s beliefs dictate your own.

On another note, a couple months ago I visited another Rabbi, who confirmed that by what I said, since my mothers family is Jewish, that I am as well; but because I have a “goyish” first and last name, that I would need “proof” that I was Jewish. He explained to me that I would need a family member’s Rabbi to sign off that my family member was, indeed, Jewish, and that I would need birth certificates of my family members to prove that I was related to said family member. Let me stop right here for a second, and just ask something: I need papers to prove that I’m Jewish? If any history buffs are reading this, or even anyone that is a little bit knowledgeable about the Holocaust, they might think that this sounds a little bit familiar.

In Nazi Germany, Jews were required to have papers saying that they were Jewish, and were required to wear a Star of David to further prove that fact. In telling me that I need papers to prove my Jewish Identity, this man single-handidly pushed all efforts any Jews have made in these past years since World War II, back 65+ years.

I’ve lived my life in a more Jewish fashion than many of my Jewish friends who’ve grown up in Jewish homes, have. I’ve talked the talk, walked the walk, and done hours of research and studying. I’ve made my religion into every single part of my life. I know I’m a Jew, and I’m proud of that fact.

This journey has been a long one, and the path continues to grow every day. The experience that I’ve had with others opinions have shown me that my journey will be filled with slight road blocks that might knock me down. But I know that I can get right back up, brush off my knees, and walk around the road blocks, which will in turn make me a stronger person in my faith. If I go through the conversion process, or get papers from family members proving my Jewish Identity, it’ll be of my own accord, not because someone else made me feel like less of a Jew because of it.

I guess the moral of this story is, is that the old saying really does ring true “Two Jews, Three Opinions”, but just because someone else’s opinion might differ from ours, it doesn’t always mean that they’re always right, or that even we’re right. Judaism gives it’s people a lot of leeway in regards to opinion, which sometimes proves to be a hassle, but overall can make us stronger in our faith, and, if we can accept that others will sometimes have differing opinions, it can help us grow more as a united Jewish people.

Share this:

“Ohhh…Christmas Trees!” I squeal in delight, as I stand mesmerized between six aisles of tinsel and sparkle on Holiday display at Target.

In truth, I have always loved Christmas. I can still remember, in vivid clarity, walking down Fifth Avenue, arching my neck to see the glittering display of ornaments and lights, while a world of people cradling brilliantly wrapped gifts buzzed past. I can still recall, with the precision of my tongue, the taste of Gravlax served four ways at Café De Artistes on Christmas Evening, and the feel of garland beneath my fingertips as I plucked its stems in wonderment. And, I can still feel the frost of a window pane in a hotel room, thirty-eight stories tall, as I pressed my face against the cold, while watching snowflakes dance and fall over a pallid New York. Everything was magical. Everything was beautiful. Everything was spectacular.

There was only one problem… I was Jewish. And, if there was any rule in our house regarding religious obligation, it was this: “Absolutely, without a doubt, without a hesitation, there would be NO Christmas.” This rule, unfortunately, included Christmas trees, Christmas decorations, Christmas colors, Christmas caroling and Christmas songs. And so, every year, like lunar clockwork, my mother and I engaged in holy war, a battle of wits, like Judah Maccabee versus The Santa Clause, on which holiday would win.

When I was six, I snuck a seat on Santa’s lap during a school party. When I was eight, I plastered my walls with green construction paper in the shape of a tree, than decorated it with colored circles shaped like ornaments. When I was ten, I hung my dirty socks with tape all over my windows, hoping Santa would make his appearance.

Yet, at each injunction, my mother discovered my treason. She told me with great irritation that Santa Claus didn’t exist. She tore down my make-shift tree in a fury. But, luckily, she had no idea what the socks were for…

Looking back on it, I can’t help but wonder if my love of Christmas developed from a fascination with ‘the other.’ After all, growing up in South Jersey, it seemed there were three things you needed to fit in: blonde hair, a small frame and a tan. Blessed with Ashkenazi good looks, myopic vision and sturdy Polish stock, needless to say, I had none of these things.

I so desperately wanted to fit in. I so desperately wanted to be like my classmates, who ate Peanut Butter & Jelly sandwiches for lunch, instead of Bagels & (Fat Free) Cream Cheese. Like my friends, who brought chocolate chip cookies to school, instead of a Fruit Kugel (that no one wanted to eat). Like everyone else, who took ballet lessons or played on sports teams, while I spent hours crammed into windowless rooms, with bored teachers, parsing Hebrew vowels.

Christmas became a representation – an ideal - for which I could never be a part of; as if, all of America lived decorated in cashmere, smiling gloriously up from the pages of a JCrew magazine – while I was stuck being used as packaging for the Kosher Experience.

Perhaps, one of the most important things I ever did for myself was to reclaim my Jewish identity. If I had spent a childhood wrestling with the world, my adult life would be a dismissal of all things ordinary. Like my hair, I would be unmanageable. Like my nose, I would be unique. Like my hips, I would take up space. I was everything a Jewish woman should be, a sumptuous Semite, undeterred and unfettered, living and breathing in this intoxicating world.

What does it mean to be Jewish in America? In truth, I no longer believe in hyphenated identities. After all, that would be entirely too limiting. I am not a Jewish-American. Nor, am I an American-Jew. I live in two civilizations. I exist in two worlds. And, I am utterly and totally at peace in that place.

And, as for that tree?

The Menorah may never thrill me the way the colors and trinkets of Christmas do, but when I look in the mirror, I see the face of my mother – her love and fight – reflected in my eyes. When I wrap myself in the tallis, I feel the warmth of my history – six thousand years – cradling me in its cloth. When I open the prayer book, I hear the words of my people – the evolution of a soul – and I open my mouth and sing my praises to them.

Who am I?

I am all the people before me, and all the generations after me, that share this story. This nose, this hair, this skin, these hands — that are fond of Christmas – but light the Menorah. I am a beautiful Jewish woman, living in two civilizations, holding my hands up against the light.

Share this:

I got Hallmark’s “Holiday Preview” catalog in the mail the other day. Inside was a sneak peak of all of the new ornaments they have coming out. Obviously, I need to add the new miniature Fisher Price toy ornaments (the Busy People Airplane and Schoolhouse!!) to my collection; but I’m still trying to decide what ornament each of the children will receive this year on the first night of Hanukkah, as we have every year for over a decade. Yep, we’re one of *those* families—we have a Hanukkah Bush, or as we like to call it, our “Annual Festive Gift-Giving Tree.” I know what you’re thinking: we’re assimilating, we’re giving in to cultural Christian peer pressure, we’re simply bad Jews. I understand this line of thinking, but I disagree… let me tell you why.

As we all know, Hanukkah is a minor Jewish festival that most Americans tend to conflate with other mid-winter holidays until the general understanding of the Festival of Lights is that it’s “Jewish Christmas.” It is this misperception of Hanukkah that leads to gimmicky Hanukkah themed tchochkes, or what we call in our house “cheap Chinese plastic crap.” Giant, inflatable, dreidel balloons for the front lawn; slinkies, yo-yos, juggling balls, pens and neckties all adorned with chanukkiah clip art graphics; smiling wind-up dreidels that walk; light-up pens; finger puppets; and more….all available online or inside your Sisterhood Judaica shop in December. This hyper-commercialization, devoid of any connection to the actual meaning of the holiday, is far less Jewish than my family’s twenty-dollar artificial tree. I’m sure that there are those of you who will argue that there are more uniquely Jewish ways to create this experience for our family. You may even be right. But, to my mind, the evergreen tree is a symbol that transcends religion or culture- indeed, the custom of decorating an evergreen tree is present in nearly every European culture’s as well as in other places around the world.  It is a nearly universal symbol of hope and renewal, themes that are in perfect accord with the sentiments of Hanukkah.

Every year on the day after Thanksgiving, my husband goes down to the basement and brings up the cardboard box containing our “bush.” The whole family helps to set it up and decorate it with white lights, handmade garland make of calico strips braided together, a stained-glass magen david on the top and (most importantly to me) our ornaments. There’s the little gazebo “music box”, with the even-smaller couple inside who dance in circles when the key is turned; which was a gift to my step-daughter the same year she moved north to live with her father and I. There’s a pressed-tin house with tiny cellophane windows that glow with light- a reminder of the milestone purchase of our first home together. I always sigh when I hang the round, red ceramic Buddha ornament that I purchased when my son was an infant. His delightfully round belly led to the nickname “Buddha baby.” This ornament took on a new, bittersweet meaning after we learned that his round little belly was one of the few visible symptoms of the disease that would almost kill him just a few years later. I’ve toyed around with the idea of displaying these ornaments in a way that doesn’t involve a tree- hanging them from garland, perhaps, or lining them all up on the mantel. But every year, my family rebels against the idea of losing the tree. Not because they want to be like their Christian peers (truth be told, we don’t have many Christian friends) but because of the memories each glass, plastic or metal bauble evoke within us as we gently remove each one from their tissue paper wrapping each year. Each ornament is a memory, and the tree is a place where we gather as a family to laugh, to reminisce, and to often a quick and silent prayer of thanks for the past year we’ve been blessed to share.

And so, every year in mid-December, visitors to our home will see the electric channukiah glowing in our front window. If they come inside, they’ll see four more across our fireplace mantle: the bright multi-colored ceramic one that belongs to my stepdaughter; the round peace-sign chanukkiah that my Veteran husband purchased from ModernTribe; my son’s little silver one- more traditional in design, but so small it can only be filled with birthday candles; and my own low, “garland of flowers” chanukkiah. Each one is carefully lit and blessed, our mantle ablaze with warmth by the end of the festival. And there in the corner, its glass balls reflecting light from dancing flames, is our evergreen; which like our family, grows fuller with memories year after year.

Share this:

This post by Reina Kutner comes from our newest project, NewKosher.org. Reina’s bi-weekly blog on NewKosher highlights the best of indie Jewish life and awesome recipes from her personal blog, Young, Broke & Kosher.

After Jewlicious this weekend, I have come to the conclusion that I am a strange anomaly in the Jewish community. I’m kosher, but not completely – I will eat hot dairy when I go out. I wear long skirts and sleeves… occasionally, and depending on my mood. I consider Friday night possibly the most sacred time of the week, but am not Shomer Shabbat in any way, shape or form

So here I am, a Jew in Long Beach, filled with unusual contradictions and odd ways of looking at my faith. You could say I’m conservative, and I do associate myself with the conservative movement in Judaism. But for me, I guess I would consider myself a Punk Jew – right down to my red-and-black checkered Vans, also known as the Anarchy Shoes, 2.0.

Now, I don’t look punk in any way, shape or form – unless you counted the times I dyed my hair red.  But the fact of the matter is that when it comes to my Judaism, I have a nonconformist and rebellious point of view when it comes to faith. Sure, I’m traditional, but you don’t see me covering my hair (and if I was, I’d be wearing a bright purple wig) or completely covered from head to toe. I also support things – such as gay marriage or sitting with your family during services – that would have some Orthodox Jews freaking out.

At the same time, I don’t associate myself completely with the reform movement. I like using Hebrew when I pray, separating myself from my normal world. I don’t feel like Shabbat services should be quiet with the strumming of guitars – instead, I want the power of loud and powerful voices filled with joy dancing me into Friday night, no instruments required. I am of the belief that the best thing you can do in Judaism is sit down on Friday night to a Shabbat dinner with friends and, if you have them close by, family.

I reject the fact that I have to be told by the rabbis what to do or how to live my life. I am a Jew, and I feel that I have the free will to do what I want with it. I’m no less of a Jew because I don’t observe the way you do, and I am no more of a Jew because I may observe more than you do.

When it came to kashrut, I dedicated myself to this practice because I wanted to. It was something that was important to me, that made me aware every day that I was Jewish, and therefore I was special. I felt that it was the right decision for me. But I don’t push others to do it.

I may not be an anarchist, but the fact is that I don’t need authority to tell me who I am, or what I can and can’t be. I don’t need people telling me that I’m not Sephardic because either my skin is too light or the fact that my father isn’t. I don’t need people telling me I’m not good enough to be a certain type of Jew. I’m proud to be Jewish and somewhat traditional, yet I am proud to be progressive and accept those who may not have a place in Judaism and welcome them to my movement of being a Punk Jew, and not being in just one place.

The Booksteins taught me that any way that you can be Jewish, you should – and it doesn’t matter if you are Orthodox, Conservative, Reform or Reconstructionist. You should embrace everyone and let them become close, and encourage love. I guess I am a Punk Jew in that way: I believe more in love than anything else in my faith. I believe in basic human values – not embarrassing people, respecting those around you, loving openly, being honest, understanding, kind and giving.

I believe these values come before anything that is written in the Torah – and trust me, I love my Holy Book. But these values come before any laws, rules and regulations. So, in this way, if being a Punk Jew means loving with a full heart, I don’t mind it in the slightest.

In honor of anarchy and going against the grain, I give you Pollock Salad – named after the famous painter Jackson Pollock.  Every time I think of him, I think about an incident when I was in Israel. I was in a drama class, and my friends had a conversation about Jackson Pollock splattering paint all over a toilet seat and selling it for gobs of money. But if the guy had to make a salad, I bet he would do it this way.

POLLOCK SALAD

1 bag salad greens

1 large carrot

1 yellow squash

2 zucchini

2-3 scallions

5-6 radishes

¼ cup balsamic vinegar

¼ cup olive oil

2 tablespoons garlic powder

Salt and pepper

Pour the bag of salad greens into a bowl. Using a vegetable peeler, peel the skins off of the zucchini, yellow squash and carrot and discard them. Then, using the peeler, slice the vegetables over the salad greens until you reach the centers and are unable to peel. Discard the insides.

Meanwhile, chop the scallions into ¼ inch pieces and top the salad. Slice the radishes into small pieces, like matchsticks. Top the salad.

Meanwhile, whisk the balsamic vinegar, olive oil, garlic powder and salt and pepper together. Once ready to serve, pour over the salad and mix.

Share this:

A NY Times article titled “Eating disorders on rise for Orthodox Jewish girls” caught my eye, and I wanted to offer an opinion on the subject of Jewish food habits in general as well as fasting.

Briefly, it goes like this: We cannot – as individuals, as families, and as a community – allow our religious observances to become a form of idol worship itself. That is, to hold the observance in higher esteem than God. It is one thing to cling to the mitzvot and allow them to inform our actions and inspire our lives. It is another to allow them to consume us entirely.

Not Evil, but Un-Restrained

The Yetzer ha-ra (the evil, or more accurately un-restrained, inclination) speaks in two voices. The first is the one we immediately think of – the voice that says “skip it (a mitzvah). You don’t need to do it today. You’ll do it twice tomorrow.”

But the Yetzer ha-ra’s other voice is more insidious. It says “You call THAT observing? HA! If you can’t do better than that you should just not try at all. Do it better or you are nothing.” This voice, cloaked in the disguise of greater piety, causes us to give more than we can afford, to wear the badge “workaholic” with pride, to study to the detriment of work or family, and to fast even when it damages our health.

Fasting as an Idol

Fasting – and especially fasting on Yom Kippur -  is challenging for everyone, but moreso for those plagued with eating issues because of the weight placed on the day.To help combat that, common sense (as well as a clear message from religious leaders) must prevail.

I don’t think we need another Rabbi Yisroel Salanter who (rumor has it) ate a sandwich on the bima during Yom Kippur. (There was a cholera epidemic and he was trying to make the point that people needed to remain healthy. He also insisted that Jews work during the holiday that year to assist in relief efforts.). But I believe we need to foster in people the same passionate he had for the health and well being of everyone in the community.

Our leadership has to be clear with the community, even if it requires a rebuke. This story comes from my friend Jeff:

A congregant who was in poor health s asked his Rabbi whether or not he should fast for Yom Kippur. The Rabbi was emphatic, telling him it was neither required nor was it a good idea.

“I’ve fasted my whole life,” the man replied, “I wouldn’t feel right eating. I think I will fast anyway. I’ll probably be fine.”

The rabbi looked him in the eye and said, “If you fast, I will issue a cheremagainst you . You will never have an aliyah in my shul again. Nobody will have anything to do with you.”

“You can’t do that! I haven’t sinned to deserve a cherem.” exclaimed the man.

The Rabbi replied, “You most certainly have. You are worshipping an idol – in this case, you are worshipping the fast itself. You are putting its importance higher that God’s desire that we live – not die – by the commandments.”

Not Blaming the Victim

None of this should be taken to mean that people who live (and God willing, continue to live and recover and thrive) with eating disorders are somehow at fault. Instead, I want to express my opinion (based on the article) that these conditions can be made worse by the combination of the emphasis eating (and not-eating) gets in Judaism as well as a lack of emphasis in on realistic expectations; on the “real point” of these big-ticket observances (kashrut, fasting, et al); and the general avoidance to the entire subject of eating disorders that pervades not just the Jewish community but our society as a whole.

Sometimes, We Should Understand Before We Do

At Mt Sinai the Israelites said “Naaseh v’Nishmah” – “We will do and [then] we will listen [attempt to understand].”

But the implication, the underlying teaching, is that the Israelites had the willingness to take on the mitzvot even before they had the full list of what they were. They wanted to do the commandments even if they didn’t make internal sense. That kind of eagerness is commendable.

Nobody said they actually started performing mitzvot without understanding how to do them. In fact, midrash shows how they avoided actions until they could better understand the related mitzvot – one of the reasons given for only dairy meals for Shavuot is because those Israelites – having JUST received the commandments – were so concerned about violating the laws of kashrut which they barely understood that they simply avoided meat entirely.

This is important because I think we sometimes go off eager and enthusiastic but uninformed when it comes to mitzvot, and that can lead us to make mistakes both when we perform the mitzvah and when we teach it to others.

As my friend Phil teaches:

“As always, this is my lay opinion, but I truly believe that it is universally and always a bad idea to take on a new observance without a basic understanding of the mechanics thereof.  Note that I do not say “the philosophy” or “the derivation” or “the origin” thereof – the mechanical, operational, “how-to” of a mitzvah is that to which I’m referring.  All those other things are important – but you will make yourself nuts if you don’t learn WHAT to do.  Once you learn the basic steps – in our context here, for example: “What time does the fast start?  What time does it end?  What am I not allowed to do on this particular fast?  What about medicine?” – and begin to practice them – then go find out what it means.  In that order, always.”

Teachable Moments

The fast Asara B’Tevet is this coming Friday. Ta’anit Esther (the fast of Esther) is a little less than 100 days away. Passover – with all of it’s additional food restrictions – begins 20 days later. Looming large on the calendar’s horizon is Yom Kippur 5772, just 300 days from now.

Let’s use the intervening days to ensure these moments – along with all the other important dates on the calendar (Jewish, secular and personal) – are celebrated in a state of full health by our community, our family, and ourselves.

Share this:

By Jean Meltzer-Maskuli

It’s Saturday morning and I’m one hour into services. I’m exhausted. The Friday night dinner I hosted for ten other Conservative Yeshiva students took all day to prepare and lasted long into the night. As much as I would love to concentrate on praying, I am brought back to the realities and responsibilities of the day that lay before me: lunch for a guest I’m sheltering, squeeze in a nap, Mincha and Havdalah at a friend’s house on the other side of Jerusalem.
I realize that in staying Shomer Shabbat I won’t begin homework, laundry, or vacuum up the crumbs from Shabbat dinner till at least 10:00 pm. And I have class tomorrow. Fatigue rips through every vein, bone, and bloodline in my body.

Why bother calling Shabbat the day of rest?
Back in services, the men on the Bima lift the Torah into the air. A familiar refrain sings out as some of the congregants wrap their tzitit through their fingers and lift their pinky up to greet the sacred object. Blindly, I find myself following suit. When I lean over to a friend and ask why we do that, he doesn’t know. “You just do,” he tells me. The answer is as familiar as the songs sweeping through services.
I’m having a crisis of faith.

Just two weeks into my studies at the Conservative Yeshiva in Jerusalem, and I’m beginning to feel that I’m in an abusive relationship with my Judaism.

No matter what I do right, it seems I am still doing something wrong.
The irony of this entire situation is that in the United States, I was the most “observant” person of my peer group. Yet here at the Conservative Yeshiva my observance level makes me feel more like a heathen, than a tzaddik. While I keep kosher, I don’t wait three hours after eating meat before partaking of dairy. While I won’t use the phone or watch television on Shabbat, I will turn off the hot plate that is about to catch my table on fire. While I pray every day, I don’t necessarily daven three times a day in the traditional format.
Then, there is the advice.

I should read the Amidah in Hebrew, even if I can’t understand, or connect to, the words. I should cover my head, even though we all know it is based on tradition and not law. I should accept Rabbinic Law as an absolute and binding truth, even though I have a serious problem with the fact that the law was written by men, and established thousands of years ago.
I wish I could accept these rules and regulations blindly. I wish I had no issues with the system. I wish I could lift my pinky to the Torah and never question why we do this — but I can’t. It’s not me. It never has been me. God didn’t make me that way. He made me an iconoclast. He made me a spitfire. He made me question.

I live for a line of reasoning.
And so, I want an explanation. I want a rationalization. I want a justification. But more than anything, I want a Judaism I can take back with me to America.
I want a Judaism that is alive for our times, that speaks to my peers, that moves my community — the secular, disconnected, and unaffiliated community I came from — to reconnect. I want a Judaism that expresses the spirit, passion, and chutzpah of our predecessors – for our society today. I want a Judaism that cares more about the soul, the essence, and the inner self – than the ghosts of our governing past.
And so, with all that in mind – with all that confusion, and anguish, and wrestling of my soul, I made my first decision:

I have the right to explore. I have the right to evaluate. I have the right to examine. And more importantly, I have the right to observe at the level I am at — right now — without being made to feel that I should be doing something more, something different, or something better.
And finally, for anyone who has a problem with that position, with that ideology, with that belief – you can just eat treif.

Share this:

In a conversation at a Hanukkah party about matriarchal versus patriarchal descent, I mentioned that Jewish identity most likely started off patrilineal, but was changed to matrilineal because men would go off the war and since there was no DNA testing 2000 years ago, it made sense for a child’s identity to be connected to the mother instead of the father. This didn’t sit well with the man standing across from me. We got into a discussion about whether or not the written Torah was adapted to meet the needs of changing communities. Ultimately it came down to the same argument that I hear all the time: the Torah was written once, never changed, and Jewish law (although interpreted over time) has always been the same.

One would think that a fierce defender of a fundamentalist reading of the Torah would be Orthodox. But this guy wasn’t. Far from it. But darned if he wasn’t going to defend the Orthodox opinion with his life.

There is a culture within the Jewish people of Jews who are convinced, without a shadow of a doubt, that the traditional understanding of Jewish law is completely correct. These Jews, however, do not live Orthodox. They may go to Orthodox synagogues (usually Chabad), they may avoid eating forbidden meat, and they only date Jewish partners, but in all other areas, they are just as secular/progressive/reform/whatever as anyone else. A friend of mine considering attending a liberal rabbinical school was laughed at by a relative who said that progressive Judaism is “not even Jewish”, but who I know for a fact lives a life that is far from Orthodox.

People need black-and-white. They need to live in a world where things make sense. Even if they know, according to Jewish law, that they fall terribly short of Jewish perfection, they need to know that there is a set standard. This type of personality exists in all religions. It’s the same mentality that I see here in the Christian South: redneck guys who are convinced that gays are all going to hell, but don’t think twice about having premarital sex. They don’t mind being sinners, so long as they can be confident about what sin actually is.

If you could be religious, yet live a modern life, wouldn’t you? I suppose for some, the answer is no. I want to understand the I’m-not-Orthodox-but-I-know-it’s-right way of living mentality. Perhaps I’m missing something. And if you know what that is, I would appreciate you telling me. I’m at a loss.

Share this:

By Pamela Alexander

On my way to the cafe for OneShul services, I passed by a large black dog, old and obviously well-fed, walking aimlessly down the sidewalk of a busy four-lane road. I was frightened for him as he seemed oblivious to the proximate danger at the curb, and my heart broke with each meandering step he took. Where were his owners? Did they know he was missing? How could they allow him to get away?

Certainly this was not the dog’s first walk around the neighborhood, absent both his leash and a human companion; I’m sure he has found his way home alone on several occasions. As I drove away, I asked G-d to continue His protection of the old dog. I know that it was HaShem He who had saved this beautiful animal from being hit by a car, for to believe otherwise is to give credit to chance or luck. I prefer to give it to G-d.

Dogs love us unconditionally and ask for little in return; this is in sharp contrast to humans who are naturally self-serving. Take our lost dog: he protects his owners without hesitation and yet his owners endangered him! Of course, we humans have the capacity to love others in a selfless manner, but to do so requires the study of Torah, prayer, a commitment to put others’ needs ahead of our own and considerable practice.

What is in the canine brain or heart that makes them love us so deeply? Is it instinctual owing to an evolutionary imperative because pack animals stood a greater chance of survival than those that roamed alone? Whatever the case, a dog’s love allows us to be vulnerable: we can cry without shame or fear of rejection. In our human relationships, we are burdened with the ever-present knowledge that we must change, at least in some small way, to be fully accepted. Dogs accept us just as G-d made us. Imagine that!

We may believe that the love we give (and receive) is selfless and free from expectations, but how quickly that hope is dashed when life goes wrong. In that moment we have two choices: extend more grace and kindness to our spouse or friend, or because we are hurt or angry, fight for our “right” to be loved and understood at any cost (as if G-d ever promised us an easy life). How easy it is to love without strings when we are first so loved. How difficult when we are not.

Why are relationships so difficult, marriage near impossible at times? Have we grown tired, jaded or just older? Or, is it because human nature is essentially narcissistic? We are selfish and stubborn, critical and contrary, jealous and judgmental. We must be taught benevolence and empathy. We must learn to accept and forgive others. And we must practice, practice, practice. Opposable thumbs or not, we have to learn what comes naturally to dogs.

I believe, ironically perhaps, that learning to live unselfishly is the way to true happiness and fulfillment. It is the only way we can bring real meaning into our otherwise self-absorbed lives. But, even as we know how content we will be when we will have learned to love others unconditionally, we also know how difficult change can be. Best to take it slowly, day by day, for becoming better Jews does not happen overnight.

All this got me thinking: what can I learn from my dogs? They walk me to the door when I leave, and greet me when I return. Do I do that for my husband, or do I call out to him from across the house? The latter. Dogs read our moods; they know when we are glad, mad or sad. Still, they choose to be with us. Do I want to be in the same room with my husband if he is angry, or in a mood that will try my human patience or peace of mind? Not really. Dogs are exceedingly patient. Do I show my husband the same patience and respect as I do my Brittanies? Hmmm.

I have no doubt that G-d worked overtime designing and creating our dogs. Although I have been a dog-owner for many years, I am still amazed at their intelligence, compassion and loyalty. Their unconditional love makes us feel accepted. They have a unique ability to teach us how to be better humans. I just hope that I can become the kind of friend to my human friends, to my husband, as my dogs Jazzy and Otto are to me.

Share this:

POINT: By Leon Adato

I had the good luck to grow up with Lee Unkrich, who’s been at Pixar since (just about) the beginning. He and I have talked about how the “traditional animation studios” complain that nobody wants to see regular old animated movies any more, they all want CGI.  Lee argues (and I agree) that this is utter hogwash. Movie-goers just want a good story. It can be hand-drawn, CGI, mixed media, live action, or sock-puppets. Give people an engaging narrative, Lee assured me, and they will come to the theater.

Why am I telling you this? Because synagogues may be making the same mistake.

Recently, the URJ advertised a course (an online “webinar”, no less) on how to build a youth-friendly congregation” (“What Does a Youth-Friendly Congregation Look Like?“).

I’m skeptical, because I’ve heard and read a lot about this subject in the last few years (being an IT professional AND fairly active with a few synagogues in my area). The discussion takes many forms, from how to make a service more “hip” or “relevant” to ways to use “social media” (which is really just code for “How to get people to click “like” on your Facebook fan page”).

I think these efforts are not only doomed to failure, and not only a waste of effort and resources, but also are completely missing the point. Just as in Lee Unkrich’s comment about movies, people are simply looking for a good story. In the case of a congregation, they are looking for a compelling narrative – a narrative where they can envision themselves as playing a part.

You don’t make a congregation more “youth friendly” by running down a list of check boxes, any more than you can make a movie worth watching that way (“Hero viewers can identify with?” check. “Heart-stopping action sequence?” check. “Wholesome yet enticing love interest?” check….).

You don’t create a compelling Jewish community by building a website that auto-syncs the shul calendar to the visitor’s iPhone.

My real beef with this thinking is that it’s disingenuous from the very start. There is a huge gap between wanting a congregation which is just plain welcoming to everyone who comes through the doors and one which says “OK, let’s go after THAT demographic!”

As my friend Doug says: “It’s like the old quote by Jean Giraudoux. ‘The secret of success is sincerity.  Once you can fake that you’ve got it made’. All of the techniques to build a youth-friendly congregation are actually just ways to fake that you want a ‘youth friendly congregation’ – because otherwise you would already have it!”

Doug highlighted another flaw in the logic: “Do you REALLY want a youth friendly congregation?  Be prepared to be less comfortable yourself, particularly if you need to resort to webinars to figure out how to do that, because you are, obviously, not part of the youth culture yourself and, if you succeed, will create a community where they will be comfortable and you will not.”

Changing your congregation – or even building a programming track for a sub-community – that is specifically for one demographic has the built-in pitfall of being, almost by it’s definition, NOT appropriate for other sub-groups within your organization. Sometimes this is normal, natural and organic. Your “Tot-Shabbat” program is pretty much self-explanatory and doesn’t include the “hip single 20-somethings”; and even a group as all-encompassing as a Temple Sisterhood has easily recognizable and logical limits (ie: no guys). But beyond those examples, why build boundaries where there don’t need to be any?

“Making your congregation more youth-friendly” falls into the trap identified by Rabbi Lawrence Hoffman in his book Rethinking Synagogues , where he says

“I charge synagogues with being a market, not a sacred community; hewing to an ethnic and corporate model that was outmoded twenty years ago; and pursuing an atomistic existence (as if they need not collaborate with each other or with other Jewish organizations).”

What I’m getting at is this: I don’t want to see synagogues waste precious time and resources building a “youth-friendly” environment. Or a “singles-friendly” environment. Or an “old-fart-friendly” environment. I am also not advocating being “friendly to all” because – while it’s a good goal – it’s far too vague to be acted upon and, as Rabbi Hoffman points out,

“…despite the claims of the regulars, synagogues are by and large neither welcoming nor warm;…”

Instead, I would like to see congregations put effort into removing elements that make them youth-hostile (or singles-un-friendly, or old-fart-exclusionist). That’s not the same thing as being friendly to a specific group, either. In removing un-friendly barriers, you haven’t STOPPED doing what was good and successful for the core existing group (unless part of that success was in excluding other folks, in which case we need to have a talk.). And once the barriers are removed, you can use some means (yes, that can include whiz-bang internet tools like niTwit and MyFace) to let youth know that they are, at least, not unwelcome…in fact, would be welcomed into the community…on their own terms, as a human who has to bend a little to the others in the community, but not be broken in the process. Just as the OTHER members of the community are going to have to bend (enough with the complaining about the kids with piercings already, Mildred!) but without being forced to break.

As The Rebbetzin says, “Offering people a way to participate that is meaningful to them is the key to building membership. Then use social media to keep them connected.”

So my advice? Skip the webinar and just take a walk around your organization (whether that’s a building, a website, a mission statement, or a weekly service). Look at it like you really mean it; look at it like you want to see what it REALLY is, rather than just what you remember it was or wish it was or believe it is in your heart if only other people could see it the way you do.

Instead, YOU see it the way THEY do.

And then be prepared to start breaking down a few walls.

COUNTERPOINT: By Rabbi Susan Stone

Let me start off by saying that I really like kids.  A lot.  I especially like them when they are running through the halls at temple or boarding buses at 5:00 a.m. on their way to youth group events in distant cities.

More about them in a minute.

So, here I am in mid October.  I am sitting at my desk after a morning of hospital visitation and lunch with an old friend.  (He’s less impressed with my being a rabbi than those in the congregation I serve. It is a good thing.)  I’m typing this while waiting for a conference call to begin.  The bat mitzvah family just changed their 6:45 pm appointment to 5:00.  It means that my son and I can grab dinner before the 7:30 mikveh association meeting.

It’s a good thing that our Executive Director and office manager have been in the building to get the letter from the chair of the Women’s Committee that I need to edit to go with the baskets they send to our newest members on Chanukah.

But back to the conference call – it is my second one this week.  The first was a study of texts from the Qu’ran.  This one is a gathering of rabbis who are working in interim situations.  We are meeting with a coach from the Interim Ministers Network – a minister with extensive experience in what is an emerging field in Jewish life.

Elsewhere in the building, the Educator is following up on children who haven’t shown up for Sunday School yet this year.  The Family Educator is working on logistics for the 8th grade Shul-In (overnight program) with her counterpart from another congregation down the street.  They both need to remind the students that there will be no class on October 31st so the teachers can attend an in-service program they designed.

The custodian is occupied with the landscapers, trying to get ready for winter and installing the new plantings donated by congregants in memory of a beloved parent. We really want to get those in the ground before winter – they hide the gas well which was drilled last year.  The Board negotiated that contract and we hope it will provide the Temple with some income.  One of the groups which rent space from us during the day is packing up; my guess is that they’ll be back next week.

Now that I’ve laid out all of that, I’ll get back to the issue at hand: why I think it is great – and not insincere or disingenuous – that congregations build youth-friendly environments.

We need youth-friendly environments because my son will only watch Dancing With the Stars when Kurt Warner is on.  We need a youth-friendly environment because teenage girls won’t shop in the same stores as their mothers. And I will go a step further – I think it is great that there is a seminar of building a youth-friendly environment in a congregation BUT it doesn’t go far enough.  I want a youth-friendly department because teenagers do get obnoxious and other people’s adorable children mispronouncing the Sh’ma while trying to lead services is only cute the first twenty three times.

But that is not all.  Leon claims he’s skeptical.  He should be.  And it is true that,

“You don’t make a congregation more “youth friendly” by running down a list of check boxes, any more than you can make a movie worth watching that way (“Hero viewers can identify with?” check. “Heart-stopping action sequence?” check. “Wholesome yet enticing love interest?” check….).”

But he misses the point.  Sometimes it has to be about checklists and clumsy use of social media – and artificiality and even insincerity.  And yes, it is going to make people uncomfortable.

Actually, I hope people are made incredibly uncomfortable.  I want our longest time members to wonder what is becoming of “their” congregation. I want them to complain a lot and then I want them to stop and watch what is happening and I want them to be glad.  And then I want them to still attend those functions and services and activities that they have loved for the last 50 years (and 50 more, please God).

And then I want them to realize that being youth-friendly isn’t as good as just being friendly.

Do I wish we didn’t have to do this?  I do – I wish we could build Leon’s utopia.  But plants need to be planted and conference calls endured and visits made and programs planned.  So much of the business of running a congregation is business.  I acknowledge that people needing to be met where they are is more important that gas wells (unless you want to pay the bills on time). I also acknowledge that we live in a world that is trending toward increasingly personal attentions being paid in group settings.  Yes, we should work against it but while we are doing that we cannot ignore the trend either.   Our congregations need to be contemporary (while upholding ancient values of course). So, once again, we are called upon not to chose either/or but to do both/and: to serve our constituents and then make them uncomfortable about being so well served.  Then we can plant the bulbs, pray that the roof holds for another winter and mail the publicity.  Yes, we have to take temporizing measures and live in the real world – and also work and hope for better.

And I will still read the latest research and try new things and dream of bottom-up rebuilding.

Do I wish we were more perfect?  Of course I do.  I wish we could be holistic and inclusive and seamless and always engaging.  But our synagogues have been the homes for our souls and the one and only symbol of our endurance for many a century.  Let’s make them better – of course!  But let’s also celebrate the beauty that radiates from their imperfections every day of the year.

Rabbi Susan Stone leads Suburban Temple – Kol Ami in Cleveland Ohio. She has been a congregational Rabbi for over 25 years (having been ordained at the age of seven, of course). In her practically non-existent spare time she worries about her two sons. She also loves long walks on the beach, which are sadly in short supply in Cleveland.

Share this:

Lately, I’ve been thinking about what I’d like to be when I grow up. I’m in a program called “dual enrollment” which is basically where I’m enrolled in high school and college at the same time. I go to a local community college and I take all of my classes there, which earns me high school and college credit at the same time. I’m hoping to have my A.A. by the time I graduate high school, and that means I kind of need to have a little bit of an idea of what I’d like to do with my life. I started to do a bit of soul searching (but isn’t that what your teens through early 20′s is all about?) and I’ve come to a few conclusions about myself, one of which is that out of the three things that I can see myself doing (psychologist, english professor, or rabbi), a rabbi seems to stick out the most.

I say this because since I’ve started my “Jewish Journey”, my life has become all about my faith and finding myself within it. I’ve read all the books I’ve come across, started a Jewish blog on here and on my own site, I’ve gone to many different shul’s and I’ve met many different awesome Jews. I’ve joined BBYO, I’m starting to help set up programs within my BBYO chapter such as Israeli Advocacy, and I’ve taken to praying every single day. I’m trying to work on doing a new mitzvot every time I get comfortable doing the one before. I’ve talked to many people about there faith and it’s made me start asking myself what brings me so close to mine. I’ve started questioning what makes me a Jew and what I do to define myself as one.

I have this yearning to make Judaism apart of everything I do. Maybe it’s because of my own personal mantra-”Every moment you live is a moment in G-d’s name” that makes me feel this way. And it’s true, Hashem has blessed me with life, the greatest gift of all, and then to make the gift even sweeter, he’s blessed me with so many  (good and bad, but the bad only makes the good that much sweeter) opportunities, people, and memories. I want to spend every second living my life in his name, and what better way to do that then to be a rabbi? And I know what you’re thinking, “well, Kristin, you can live your life in his name but still have a different job!” but it’s so much more than that. If I were a rabbi, I would get to spend my life sharing the joy of Hashem with other people. I would get to spend a lot of time in one of my favorite places, shul, reading what I love to read, his word and the prayers that praise Hashem and his Yisrael. I could help people find their Jewish path, like so many people have helped me, and I could spend so much time with others reveling in the Torah and what, exactly, did “this” or “that” scripture mean? It would be about getting to wake up in the morning, thinking about what the message I’d like to bring to shul that week so that others could connect the prayers and weekly torah portion to their daily life. It would be all those impromptu visits and phone calls others would make to me so that I could help them or guide them or simply just listening to their problems. It would be all the lives I would be involved in, all the services I would get to lead (along with the cantor of course), and that undeniable, amazing feeling that comes with being a person of G-d. And of course, it would be a time-consuming decision, one that would be filled with possibly just as much bad as good, but the good and the bad are what makes everything worth doing!

I feel so strongly about it, that this is truly what I was meant to do with my life. I’ve walked through life this long feeling empty and without meaning, but that I was here to fulfill a purpose, then here it is, the reason I feel is for my being, and I’m wondering why I didn’t see it here all along.

But like the saying goes, we make plans and G-d laughs. May Hashem bless me and all of you and guide us on the path that he feels is right. May he bless us with good times to revel in, and bad so that we may learn to appreciate the good. May he give us his guiding hand so as to lead us on the path that will bring us closer to him. And may he reside within our hearts and souls always, so that we need to look no further than the inside of ourselves to find him.

Baruch shem kavod malchuto le’olam va’ed! (Blessed be his glorious Name whose Kingdom is forever and ever)

Ahavah Olam (Eternal Love),

Kristin the Jewbie

PS From Patrick Aleph: the first woman to be ordained in Germany since WWII!

Share this:

Immediately, I got this reply:

“I disagree with what you said about believing something in order to be Jewish. Being Jewish isn’t about what you believe. It’s about what you do.”

My secular friends all agree with this statement. Doing Jewish is more important than Believing Jewish. But I wonder if that actually makes sense. Judaism, it seems, is the only religion in the world that says you can disbelieve in every tenent of the faith, yet still be a member. It’s like saying, “I don’t believe in Allah or Mohammed. The Koran is made up and eating bacon and drinking whiskey is awesome. But I’m a Muslim and you can’t take that away from me!”

I do believe that actions matter. But intent matters, too. Remember the old saying, “it’s possible to do the right thing, for the wrong reason, and the wrong thing for the right reason.”

At what point, though, does it matter that you believe in what you are doing, beyond making yourself happy that you continued on an ethnic tradition?

Please discuss. I’d really like to know.

Share this:

By Leon Adato

(Originally posted here)

One of the comments I got back from the post “Riding Uphill” was from my friend Phil, who said, “Davening is hard, although it gets easier after the first, oh, five or seven years.  Then it gets hard again because you’ll have become so fluent at it that you will need to consciously slow down and focus on Kavana.”

I started to think about how long it might take to get “good” and what “good” looked like? Was “good” the people who led services at my synagogue?

Seth Godin wrote once about expertise in “The Myth of Preparation“. In it, he described 3 basic levels and the amount of effort to go from one to the other. The first phase – “beginner” is characterized by a steep rise in learning. The middle “novice” phase is mostly just repetition and practice with small incremental improvements, until you hit “expert” level.

All of this is pretty simplistic and the analyst part of me would love to see the supporting data. But that’s not the point. The point is that Seth’s description is close enough for his final premise:

“Here’s the myth: The novice stage is useful.

If all you’re going to do is go through the novice stage before you ship, don’t bother. If you’re not prepared to put in the grinding work of the expert stage, just do the beginner stuff and stop screwing around. Make it good enough and ship it and move on.

Go, give a speech. Go, start a blog. Go, ship that thing that you’ve been hiding. Begin, begin, begin and then improve. Being a novice is way overrated.”

Seth talks about “shipping” but what he really is talking about is making something public – going ahead and DOING instead of PREPARING TO DO.

This morning, instead of self-consciously whispering through my morning blessings – trying to hide what I was skipping, or what I was reading in English instead of Hebrew – I said them aloud. Sang a few of ‘em, when I could remember the tune.

As Seth would put it, I “shipped”.

It was rough. It was “not ready for prime time”. It was definitely not easy.

It might, as Phil said, take me another 4 years before it gets easier. But you know what?

For today, for the beginner that I am, it was Good Enough.

Share this:

(By our friend Leon Adato of EdibleTorah. Originally posted here.)

When I find I’m in a competition with someone who is dead-set on winning, I will often play to lose just to get things over with and not see the other person hurt; When I come up against a challenge that seems insurmountable, I look for ways around under or over the problem rather than barreling straight through. As an IT professional, I ascribe to the ideal of Larry Wall (inventor of the Perl programming language): that the three great virtues of a programmer are impatience, hubris and laziness.

So you can imagine my dismay when I realized that davening is hard. What’s more, the entire world seems to be fighting against my best efforts to makeit part of my day.

When I decided to try my hand at daily prayer rather than limiting it to a once-a-week experience, I expected to face internal challenges – not feeling confident or competent with the material, overcoming feelings of awkwardness,  making prayer an experience which is not just personally engaging but also links me into the inherent meanings which exist whether I recognize and appreciate them or not. (David Wilensky of “The Reform Shuckle“  does a fantastic job explaining that idea here.)

And yet, most mornings, it is NOT these things which hold me back. Most mornings it is the phone call, the important email, the essay I left last night but is now calling to be finished, the choice between taking personal time and spending another few minutes at the breakfast table with the family before everyone runs in separate directions.

It is heartbreaking to walk past my tallit and tefillin, knowing that I must move on to my next task; that my chance to develop this new habit – not to mention take a moment for myself and God – has passed by yet another morning. I know that there Judaism affords me opportunities for structured prayer two more times each day, and that unstructured moments abound, and that tomorrow is another day, but I regret that yet another today has passed. I am afraid that when I look back, I won’t like the trail I’ve left.

Which is why I deeply appreciated a piece of wisdom I received when in Israel (a reasonable hope, if not a downright expectation), from the Ori, owner of the hip and trendy t-shirt and apparel store “Shkalim” (an unexpected place for such wisdom, although not unreasonable once you get to know him).

“I decided to take a Talmud class, which met Mondays at 6pm,” he told me, “It’s not normally a busy night so I figured I could close early. My  father warned me, ‘You know that every week there will be a reason you can’t go. Business will be booming, something will require your attention. Wait and see’.”

“Of course he was right,” Ori continued, “and I mentioned it to the Rabbi teaching class. What he told me was that, if it was hard, it meant I was on the right track. Only for true tzaddikim are new mitzvot easy. For the rest of us, the way that we know we are on to something important is by how difficult it is.”

“It’s like riding your bike uphill – it’s difficult, but you know that you will be stronger when you reach the top.” Then he laughed, “You may be exhausted and collapse on the ground, but you will also be stronger.”

Recently, at 7am on the morning of a day that started at 3 and wouldn’t end until 10pm that night, I walked past the tallit and tefillin sitting on the table. Instead of hiking upstairs toward the bed calling my name, I continued my journey uphill.

Share this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XFZGNAoyzws

UPDATE:

So it seems, I might have been wrong. A reply from someone on YouTube:

You got me. You delivered a very nice, typical, take on Cholov Yisroel. Thank you for your interest in this subject. I am very involved in making Cholov Yisroel down in Florida. We are an all grass fed, free range, one single family farm, and no hormones or other drugs. We also remove all of the diseased animals from the milking herd. Such as; Displaced Abomasums, and any cows who have had certain various surgical procedures. Even though the FDA deems them safe for human consumption… However, According to kosher rules they are not fit. This is only done on a Cholov Yisroel operation.
Again, I enjoyed your enthusiasm and most of all your interest. If you’re ever going to be in the central Florida area, shoot me a email. Very Truly Yours, Tzvi AKA Tevye of Tevye Farms Cholov Yisroel dairy

Share this:

We’re launching our next project, NewKosher.org, as our way of celebrating Hanukkah! NewKosher.org will be a website with the goal of helping people “eat healthy, ethically, environmentally and mystically through kashrut”.

Included in the launch will be a community written Birkat Hamazon (Blessing After Meals) otherwise known as a “bencher”…and we’d like you to help write it!

Here are a few things we are looking for:

-The traditional after meal blessings (Hebrew, Transliteration and Translation)
-Contemporary, poetic variations on the blessings including meditations
-Articles on Judaism and food
-Stories and reflections on eating from a Jewish perspective
-Contemporary kosher recipes

Want to submit something? Deadline is Tuesday, November 9th. All are welcome to take part in this community wide writing project. Everyone who submits will receive a free e-copy of the Birkat and a printed copy (just pay the cost of printing and we’ll ship for free).

Need some help writing? Take a look at this wikipedia article: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Birkat_Hamazon

We’re looking forward to working with you on this project!

Share this:

In case you’re wondering, the answer is “community”.  Community is the one word that best represents what happens when Jews get together and interact with one another. Think about it, how many times have you been in a room full of Jews, most of whom you hardly know, and you just felt at home? Plenty, right?

I went to a BBG meeting the other day (the girls division of the Jewish Youth Group BBYO), and there must have been 15+ girls there (and that wasn’t even the entire chapter. Some didn’t even come). They all greeted me warmly and spent the time trying to get to know me, and they all genuinely acted like they wanted to be my friend. In fact, they acted like we had already all been friends since forever. It was pretty awesome (and I say that because girls are usually catty and don’t get along well with the “new girl to the group”), and this whole experience got me thinking about all of the other times that I had felt at home with other Jewish people. There was the time I attended a new synagogue (actually, a few new ones, with all of the same results) and everyone greeted me with “Shabbat Shalom” and took the time to get to know me and how I had ended up at their shul, or the time I went to New York and ended up chatting up a fellow Jew about religion, etc.

It’s such an awesome thing to be a part of a community that actually acts like just that-a community. No matter where I’ve ended up in these past few months on my path of The Jewish Journey Less Taken I’ve always felt like old pals with other Jews that I have met. And that is such a great thing, isn’t it, to be a part of such a loving community when the rest of the word can feel so full of hate sometimes? And I must admit, not every religion (and yes, I realize this is generalizing) offers a feeling such as this. I was raised in a predominantly Christian household, and going to church or attending Christian youth groups (and trust me, I went to plenty of each) never felt quite as inviting as it does within the Jewish world.

My assignment for you is to go try out a new Jewish Group (such as something at the JCC, etc.) or go to a new shul and test this out. I can almost guarantee you that you’ll feel welcomed and loved, and you’ll walk out with a feeling of togetherness.

With so much love and adoration,

Kristin the Jewbie

(I would just like to add: Baruch Hashem that we are able to experience such a feeling of community among other Jewish people, because the absolute, pure awesomeness of it is truly beyond words.)

Share this:

(Originally posted by our friend Heshy Fried here)

Atheists really seem to have it easy. They probably don’t, but when I look at them from afar it seems to be an easy life. A life of non-believing and depending on their personalities they may be ironically called insane by us religion espousers, but in the end believing in God seems to be tough work – but not so much believing in God as struggling with the entire concept of “what is the meaning of life?” I was asked that by an older friend of mine recently. I couldn’t tell if it was in jest, but I told him that life was about realizations that hit you in the head and made everything else until that point seem idiotic. Like when I realized that worrying about things was the tyranny of the mind. Chabadnicks say it’s the sitra achra and I agree – the other side, the devil, the evil inclination, the yetzer harah – whether or not that may be fictional or not is up for debate – but something in our conscience screwing with us. We worry about things all the time that will happen regardless of worrying or not, so why worry?

So Atheists, what’s the deal? I can’t seem to shake my belief in God. I never actually tried. I don’t think I’m smart enough to be an Atheist. Almost every Atheist I ever met was a scientist of some sort. I have a friend who says that any scientist who believes in God is intellectually irresponsible and I disagree – I don’t see how God cannot be worked into any scenario – I just don’t understand Atheism.

I kind of wish I could be an Atheist sometimes. I wouldn’t have to worry about the afterlife (I don’t really worry about the afterlife now anyway, like most people my age death is not really in my mind much) and my entire life would be devoted helping future generations have a good time here on earth, rather than the constant talk of this so called messiah who will deliver us from our misery, after a 1000 years of nothingness by the way. So apparently, one of the many urban legends surrounding the coming of the messiah (I’m not really sure about the whole thing, I only look forward to it for the fodder it will provide, I’m sure the messiah will be a transgender woman who is modern orthodox and everyone won’t take a hint) is that there will be a big war and the world will be empty of life for 1000 years – so we won’t see the whole thing anyway. Also, how on earth are we going to roll to Israel with all of our luggage anyway? And what about all that stuff the beis din will kill us for, like carrying in an eruv that not everyone accepts — maybe they will have the beis din stonings on pay per view or something with the money going to tzedaka.

Religion ain’t easy, unless you’re ignorant. If you sit and learn all day and never bother to reaffirm your beliefs it seems so easy. “Honey I’m going to Kollel” followed by “Honey did your father pay the rent?” It seems from the outside like an easy life, intellectually at least. Sure, you cannot afford white meat and don’t get to drink brand name soda, but you learn and shteig and believe fully (I think) in what you’re doing. Meanwhile, us underlings cling to this religion we really don’t fully believe in but are afraid of losing the community around it or something of the sort.

I believe so strongly in God, but don’t really know what to do with that belief. Others dive blindly into Judaism, whether it be orthodox, or some other stream, but I’m always unsure. I consider myself orthodox, sure, but am I? I like the term post-orthodox, or post denominational, it makes sense. I don’t have a hashkafa. For instance, I am vehemently against TV and Movies, more from a philosophical than hashkafic bent. I think it’s all a waste of time, but not bittul torah — everything is bittul torah, you know?

To not believe in God takes everything out of the picture, what pains do you have? But then again, when you do have pain, to whom do you daven? Baal? I don’t know if I could live without my daily conversations with the L-rd. He’s the best free psychologist. You can scream at Him, curse at Him, wave your fists at Him or Her or It and it just sits there on its cloud filled lazy boy reading the DSM 4 and wondering about what on earth you’re babbling. It’s really good talking with the Lord, loads of fun, except for the few times that I was heavily involved that when I came across a fellow hiker, they looked at me like I was crazy, after all – there was no Bluetooth in my ear and definitely no reception for one to be talking to anyone. I would momentarily break from my philosophical discussion with the clouds and tell them that I was spacing out and trying to scare the bears.

I guess Atheists have to pay for a psychologist. Maybe it’s worth the ease at which their minds get to glide through life. I don’t like the argument that Atheists are immoral. You don’t need God to be moral and it seems like the opposite actually. It seems like the evil things done in the name of God far outweigh the things done in the name of Atheism. You may make the argument that the Communists were Atheists and Stalin managed to kill 80 million people, but it’s doubtful they did it in the name of no God in existence — they did it because they wanted to control the world vodka market – which seems to be against capitalism, so why not?

Share this:

Jews love starting organizations, more than anything else. And the worse the acronym, the better. Without cheating, try to figure out what any of these organizations do:

CPMAJO, JINSA, JHSGW, NJCRAC, COEJL, CAHJP, EAJC,  COJECO, BACJRR…

How often do we start “organizations” with “Mission Statements” full of snappy buzzwords?

What does that even mean?

Nothing. Not a single thing.

We can form as many organizations as we want, that DOES NOT mean that anything is going to get done. It just means that a bunch of people are going to sit around in a room, talk about all the things that they want, talk about themselves, and accomplish nothing.

This is especially true with “outreach” organizations. The very word “outreach” implies that some people are already on the outside, while others are on the inside. Of course, those people within an organization are the insiders, trying to engage others.

But here’s the interesting irony: people don’t want to be friends with an organization, people want to be friends with people. Community comes from personal interaction, not signing up for a committee.

The organization should be a tool for personal interaction, not the other way around.

Would you feel comfortable telling your secrets to PepsiCo? How about Wal-Mart?

No.

So how do we fix this?

We need to stop focusing on what we can do and look at we are doing.

What are we doing to bring Judaism to those who need it? How are we making Judaism more accessible and relevant to the 21st century? And when I say “we“, I’m not talking about the JCC or JNF or the ABCD or whatever. I’m asking all of us, personally:

What are YOU doing to live Jewishly?

No one is perfect, and no one, no matter who they are or say they are can live a perfect Jewish life. No one person can fulfill all the mitzvot. But remember, just because the road is long, it doesn’t give you an excuse to stand still. G-d only cares about how far you have walked on your own path.

So stop talking and get off your tuchus! Engage! Create something! Talk to people! Find out what they need, find out why they don’t care about being Jewish, why they can’t find Judaism meaningful to their 21st century daily lives.

Find this out and do something!

-Patrick and Michael

Share this:

My dog is crate trained, meaning that when I am out of the house or sleeping, she sleeps in a metal crate with her bed, food, water and toys. Seems to keep her out of trouble. It also teaches her to go to the bathroom when we let her out: an almost impossible task for some rescue animals who have a hard time adjusting to a schedule.

Today I felt like a bad Pug Dad. I had been out of the house all day for meetings, going to the bank, grocery shopping, etc. So I thought, “heck, why not let her run around the house. What’s the worst that can happen?”

The worst did happen.

I came home, and my dog was chewing my tefillin. The entire front of the shel rosh (the head piece) had been chewed to the point that it looked like pale chewing gum. I yelled, “Potato! No! Bad dog!” She looked at me with fear in her eyes, slightly peed on the couch, and ran away as I leaped toward my mangled Judaica.

But I have to say, the dog taught me a few wonderful Torah lessons:

Guard the Mitzvah. That’s where Shomer (honor/defend) the Shabbat comes in. It’s important to really remember what Shabbat is. It’s not just Friday night, folks. In the same light, I should have guarded my tefillin and not left them sitting out on the coffee table.

Be Good to Animals. Human beings have dominion over the earth (Parshat Bereshit). And the second portion of Bereshit (Genesis), Noah cared for the animals on the ark.

Chill Out. In another nod to Noah, the tefillin is a box holding prayer. The ark was a box, too, holding the prayer that life at it’s worse will still survive and carry on. Too, my inner voice was saying, “dude, calm down. It’s not the end of the world. The waters will subside, eventually.”

But in case you want to see the damage, watch this fun and informative video:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m7esD_DAx5I

Share this:

While we already know what the physical design will look like (thank you Alterna-Rebbe for designing it!), we still haven’t picked out the language we want. Ketubah websites woefully niche their language into Orthodox, Conservative, Reform, Humanist and Interfaith boxes. And frankly, we just don’t fit any of those little categories. We’re unique…just like everyone else.

So I’m soliciting some help from the PunkTorah/OneShul/3xDaily family to help us write our ketubah. It’s like Mad Libs meets Jewish wedding. Here’s the order of the contract. Now, you make it poetic. Bonus points if you can do this in Aramaic. Some of these details have been fudged for privacy sake, so don’t try crashing the wedding!

Date and Place of Wedding: 14 Kislev 5771, Atlanta, Georgia

Groom and Bride: Adam ben Avraham v’Sarah, Chana bat Avraham v’Sarah

Proposal: “Be thou my wife according to the law of Moses and Israel.” Doesn’t really do the whole thing justice, though I do like the Moses/Israel part.

Groom’s Duties: this is the part where you tell my fiancee what I’m going to do for her (keep it clean, kids, this is a family shul). In some cases, more comes later in the ketubah, such as clothing, sex, food. But I’m open to how this should flow, artistically.

Alimony Deal: the ketubah is really about protecting the woman in case the guy messes up and there’s divorce. I feel a little strange about having a prenuptial agreement in the ketubah…but why should I? That’s what it is!

Bride Accepts: luckily.

Dowery: to my knowledge, the soon-to-be-Mrs. does not have a dowery. But this could be an interesting area to pull from.

Groom Accepts: thus ends the ketubah

There you have it! Write my Marriage Contract! There’s no prize for best ideas, though this will hang on my wall the rest of my life, so there’s something to be said for that.

Share this:

A prayerbook is an interesting thing. It begs the question, how well can someone else’s words describe your inner feelings, your deepest needs and desires? Why do we even need a siddur anyways? Isn’t the point of prayer to talk to G-d, or whatever we call that awe-some power that is larger than ourselves?

If we allow ourselves to look at things from a different point of view we can see how we can benefit from a written liturgy.

While we have invited the members of our community to contribute new interpretations of standard liturgical pieces, new understandings of traditional blessings and prayers, we have attempted to maintain a particular sense of order in the creation of the daily service. The reason for this is because the daily services are crafted for a very specific purpose, to create a distinct experience that is a stark reflection of our spiritual journey throughout the day. The services are, in fact, both the map and the territory of a journey into the deepest realms of the spirit.

The order of the service was crafted by the sages to guide us through an experience that reflects the importance of communicating with the Source of Life. Taking us by the hand, the order of service walks with us, laying out a clear pathway to elevate our souls, to describe the madness and miracles we see everyday, and to give us words when our own fail us.

Starting at the beginning, the opening psalms energize us, they prime the pump of spirit, and help to fuel the engines of prayer that we need to journey deeper into the presence of the Holy One. Each successive prayer gives us new insight into our experience and draws us closer to the heights, symbolically ushering us through the sefirot, guiding our minds and hearts. We reach the apex of our journey, our approach to the Throne of Glory in the Shema and the Amida, the Standing Prayer. We have worked our way upwards the highest heights, reflecting on the oneness of the Universe and the relationship of a people and their essence, the liturgy giving us the words to express the inexpressible inside of us. The Aleinu gives us time to reflect and express our gratitude as we slowly descend in a meditative state, slowly backing down the ladder, en-wrapped in the Shekhinah, enmeshed in the ultimate and miraculous Oneness of Reality. Reciting psalms allow us to de-compress and release excessive spiritual energy, and to rest in reflection of the transformative nature of the prayers.

Does this mean we have to pray exactly as the Sages have written? No. We keep the map, but we need to discover the territory ourselves. This is why we have a community siddur. No one person can express what is in another person’s heart, but they can sometimes come close. If you feel drawn to some prayers in this or any other siddur, use them! If you feel that you need to use your own words, use them! I encourage you to write your own! But do not discard the resources from those who have been there before you.

Does this mean that we are always going to have a “magical” prayer experience? No, absolutely not. The order of the service is there to make sure we make the journey; it does the heavy lifting for us. All we have to do is to commit to the going. It is the doing that makes the difference. Judaism is a spiritual practice and not a “creedal” religion; it’s not about what you believe, it’s about what you do. Take a step, keep moving forward. Allow yourself to be changed, and you can change the world.

Share this:

By Heshy Fried

(Originally posted here)

Whenever I talk to left wing Jews they always elicit some sort of shock when I tell them that finding a frum liberal is next to impossible. I’m not talking about modern orthodox Jews here, I’m talking about right of modern, black hat – wig wearing Jews who overwhelmingly tend to be right wing, far right wing in fact and tend to argue that you cannot possibly call yourself frum and be politically liberal at the same time. They say it’s impossible, because so much of what the liberals espouse is against the Torah and when you do meet a frum liberal there must be something seriously wrong with them.

My father is a classic frum right winger, he listens to talk radio, reads the NY Post, Yated Neeman and watches fox news. When I try to ask him why he doesn’t take a look at other political views to see what good ideas they may have he scoffs at me and asks me why he would want to read something he disagrees with – many people are like him on both sides of the coin – although I always felt that to produce an informed opinion, you needed to be informed. Both sides are agenda ridden and basically propaganda, everyone wants you to agree with them, but I just don’t like opinions formed from one sided views in the first place.

My father, like many orthodox Jews, bases his political leanings on the Torah. The Torah is apparently against gays, abortion (not so simple), immoral behavior and is pro-death penalty (unless you did teshuva with a lubavitch Rabbi and than started a really good publicity campaign) and if you try and argue that not everyone holds of the Torah the classic response would be that they have to keep the sheva-miztvos which or they are chayiv misa anyway. I guess I may be a blasphemes, but I don’t believe in forcing others to adhere to my religion or any religion in general. One of my biggest fears for America is that the Evangelical Right Wingers take over and create a theocracy and start to force their religious ideals on the Jews and other denominations in America, because that’s what voting according to the Torah seems to me.

Of course, I understand the right wingers too – I just feel that forcing anyone to do anything blows – maybe that’s why I identify more with lefties than righties. The funny thing is, I kind of have a love hat relationship with liberals, I hate extreme liberals for their fake tolerance, just as I hate extreme right wingers for their crazy “morals” that force everyone to follow their morals – but I digress – I’m curious about frum liberals.

The few black hat or frum liberals I have met have all been very learned in both talmudic and secular studies and they have been very intellectual. Every frum liberal I have met was a brilliant debater and enjoyed stumping right wingers at their own game and they have all maintained that if frum people would read more and expand their minds that there would be a larger frum and politically liberal community – yet in most cases – if you mention liberal you get this nasty tone from people telling you that all liberals are sick and immoral people.

Share this:

This really ticks off the racists in my state who are convinced that everyone in the Bible was white. But…oh well.

Here’s my favorite video from the Adam and Eve Race War that floods the internet. It makes me realize how grateful I am that Jewish folks aren’t into this kind of stuff. Or are we? Let us know your opinion about race, racism and the Jewish community.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ctY61WMyJhg

Share this:

“Hello and Shabbat Shalom, I’m president _______________! Here at congregation ________________ we need your money, your work, your soul…”

It’s funny how this man or woman has taken the time to prepare an interruption to my spiritual meaning. As if it’s okay to discuss money on Yom Kippur or make people sign pledge cards. On Shabbat, you have requested my attention before Mourners Kadish. As if my personal connection to Hashem can be put on hold for this commercial break.

I have compiled a list of reasons why we should not be held as captive prisoners to advertising during prayer:

1.       Just because you have time and money and do work for the synagogue does not make you an eloquent public speaker.

2.       It is very hard to praise my creator when you are praising yourself and quite frankly seem to be quiet fond of yourself.

3.       Usually what you’re requesting is not Shabbos friendly and in some cases actually promotes avayrot.

4.       If it is Shabbat, anyone at the temple knows you because really, how many Jews show up for basic Shabbat services?

5.       Can’t a flyer or an automated phone call and weekly email do the trick?

6.       Why must you do it before the prayers are done and not after? I realize your response is “Because people will leave.” However, those are the people who aren’t going to fulfill your request anyway.

It seems like advertising and politics should wait until the prayers are done. In the story of Noah, we learn that Jews need to focus on the most important of things. The constant distractions are hard on the nishama and not intended in regards to G-d’s work. Due to Noah’s persistence, G-d has hope and provides Noah with the task to save humanity. A rabbi, I am so sorry I forgot his name, from Los Angeles once led a class I attended. He said, “All Hashem wants is praise and acknowledgement.”  I chose to go to shul to daven, not to be told what demands the synagogue has for its community, but to acknowledge Hashem without the world’s distractions. Community politics should stay outside the realm of personal prayer.

Stay true to the streets-

Yentapunker

*Photo stolen from ModernTribe.com

Share this:

My inbox is filled with emails about the Noachide Movement (aka B’nai Noach), most recently an article by Gordon Haber in Killing the Buddha.

Noahides are, according to Haber, gentiles who believe that Judaism is the true path but that they don’t have to be Jews to follow it. Thus they refer to God as “Hashem,” study Torah and Talmud, and follow a kind of halakhah-lite—the Seven Laws of Noah, as opposed to the 613 mitzvot for Jews.

If you want to Build-A-Noachide, you need a few basic ingredients:

• A Christian who has lost faith in the divinity of Jesus
• A passion for Judaism (especially Orthodoxy)
• An utter disinterest in becoming Jewish

An honest question: if you enjoy celebrating Shabbat, studying Torah, learning Hebrew, meeting to discuss Talmudic ethics and making sweet promo love with Chabad-Lubavitch, then why not skip the B’nai Noach middle man and become Jewish?

To become a Christian, one simply decides to have faith in Jesus. To become a Buddhist, you simply “take refuge” to the Buddha, his teachings and community. Islam: one phrase, and that’s it.

Judaism takes a year at least. There’s hurdles to jump through, classes to take, an entire culture to absorb, and even then, you’re a ger tzedek and even though technically no one is supposed to point out you’re a convert…well kid…you are.

So I’m wondering whether the B’nai Noach movement is really about Judaism’s conversion-prevention-stigma. We’re so obsessed with being the religion that “doesn’t proselytize” that we have driven people to create a New Religious Movement that’s basically Judaism-lite.

I guess it comes down to this: if a group of people want to believe Jewish, study Jewish, pray Jewish and do Jewish, yet have to make a new religion that is not Jewish…then what does that say about Judaism today?

Share this:

I always hate writing things for the first time, because my introductions usually end up sounding like a instant replay of those occasional glimpses of Alcoholic Anonymous meetings I see on the fake cop shows I watch obsessively:

“Hi, my name is Kristin the Jewbie, and I have an addiction to blogging.”

You can all now repeat back to me, “Hi, Jewbie,” while curiously scratching your heads as to why I came here and how the heck did I earn myself a moniker so silly as “The Jewbie”.I’d like to say it’s all a funny story, (cue the dim lights and the spotlight swinging around to settle on me, while 50′s style music plays softly in the background) but let’s be honest here, it’s really not a funny story.

Let me start at what I’d like to consider a good place to start, which isn’t necessarily the beginning, but it’s an explanation of why I’m here, and why you should read my blog (and trust me, you should).

So to begin things, I’m sure you’re wondering why I call myself the Jewbie, and if you’re not wondering, then you should be (you might be starting to notice by now that I’m a little demanding. Trust me, it’s my mother’s and my boyfriend’s biggest complaint about me, except they use the sweeter, more endearing term “brat”). When I started my blog Jewbie,I wanted it to be completely anonymous, and so I needed a good moniker for myself so that I wouldn’t have to go by “anonymous”. I chose Jewbie because, in a way, I’m new to Judaism.

I was born a Jew, because my mom’s family is Jewish (we have many Cohen’s, -berg’s, and -witz’s) but my mom converted to Christianity when she was younger, and is therefor not observant of Judaism (but we all know the old saying, that you can be baptized by every priest in the whole entire world, but once a Jew, always a Jew) so I didn’t grow up in a Jewish home. I took it upon myself, though, to start learning more about her family’s faith, and lo and behold! It fit me perfectly. So when I found that it was the religion for me, I decided to start attending shul, reading all the books I could get my hands on, and (very soon) taking classes on Judaism. So, I’m a newbie to Judaism in a sense, thus “Jewbie”. Now that you now how I coined that nickname, let’s get on to bigger and better things, such as who I and what this blog will be about.

I’m a 17-year-young aspiring novelist with a knack for saying and doing the most inappropriate things at the most inopportune times without meaning to (my friends expressed that I need to clarify this statement, so: such as laughing when I’m being yelled at, which happens often, surprisingly). I’m also trying to define who I am and who I want to be, the biggest problem being my “Jewish Journey”, as I like to call it, and what it means to be a “good Jewish girl”. I’m hoping to share my experience with “traveling the Jewish road less taken”, and my journeys in my now Jewed-up life (yes, I do have an uncanny ability to make everything revert back to my Jewish-ness). This is going to be about my travels in the Jewish world, ranging from the B’nai Mitzvah class I’m hoping to attend this year, down to my thoughts on Halachic laws such as Tznius (and how I’m having a terribly hard time following them).

I hope you enjoy reading these blogs as much as I enjoy writing them, and, until I catch you next time:

With more lovin’ then you’ll ever know what to do with,

Kristin the Jewbie

Share this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jQ1OM10mhL8

Share this:

Young Jewish Professional: anyone who has a worthy job in the Jewish community, ages 21-35. You’re out of college (or about to be) and you work a job that requires you to wear a suit and tie. Your Blackberry (or iPhone if you’re in an “edgy” career like advertising or marketing) is filled with last names that end with -stein, -berg, -man or -feld, all of whom are ready to give you a great deal on whatever it is that you want. You volunteer for at least two Jewish non-profits, which includes at least one Young Jewish Professionals Group such as Birthright Israel Next or something at the JCC or a synagogue.

“The Young Jewish Professionals group of Congregations Beth Israel will be meeting at TGI Fridays the first Thursday of the month to discuss networking opportunities in the Jewish community.”

Networking Events: any excuse to eat, drink, meet people and sell something (including yourself). The domain of Young Jewish Professionals, networking events are usually sponsored by Jewish organizations, with the idea that by facilitating something, they’ll attract attention to their organization (read: get you to give them money or volunteer) but also look good in the community. It’s a great place to hook up, but it’s a bad place to promote anything because at the end of the night you can never remember anyone fully or what it is that they wanted. You also come home with a billion business cards for organizations and services you really don’t care about at all. Networking events also have a guest speaker, who is usually someone Jewish (in last name only) but has some level of financial success and gives a half-way decent Tony Robbins-style motivational speech.

“Federation will be sponsoring a Networking Event on Tuesday. Guests are encouraged to dress their best as they sample the finest treats from Nancy’s Noshes. Our guest speaker with be Adam Klein, CEO of Insert-Important-Sounding-Company to talk about ‘Following Your Dreams of Success In the Age of the Internet’”.

Marketing Director: the person who makes lame things sound more fun. Usually a hot girl (Sephardic girls are great at this) or a guy who knows how to DJ. This person pretends that their job isn’t fundraising, but it really is…plainly due to the fact that they are always trying to get you to “sponsor” something. They have more Facebook friends than Steve Jobs and Tweet every second of their lives (checking in at nightclubs via Foursquare is the new thing), and they also travel a lot for “meetings” that no one can ever explain. They also like to use the word “exposure” and the phrase “get your name out there” a lot.

“Yo, this is Kevin, the marketing director at Insert-Hip-Sounding-Jewish-Organization. Hey dawg, I just wanted to get you in on this mad cool party we’re hosting. I’m gonna DJ some hot tracks I heard when I was in Tel Aviv last month and the local Hillel is sponsoring a latke eating contest. You’ll really get a lot of exposure and get your name out there if you become a sponsor. It’s only $2000, which isn’t much since 100 people will be there.”

Matisyahu: G-d. Matisyahu is non-profit G-d. If you can get Matisyahu to come to your event, it’s like you have some kind of iPhone that can call HaShem directly. Also, everyone claims they’ve “done some stuff” with Matisyahu, but it’s probably a lie because he seems really shy and reserved.

“Yeah Matisyahu is gonna be at the Young-Jewish-Professionals-Event. You know I hung out with him once for like, a whole weekend…we’ve done some stuff…a few projects. There’s a picture of us together on Facebook. OK, not really…I just saw him at Jewlicious that one time. But he did nod at me when I went ‘woohoo’ at him on Shabbos.”

Adult Learning: usually involves a rabbi that wants to pimp his/her non-profit or synagogue to some new people, but needs an avenue to do it that isn’t too obvious. It’s also a great tool for fund raising. If the teacher isn’t a rabbi or some kind of important sounding person, it usually shocks people because, as we all know, Judaism is a meritocracy.

“We’re doing some great Adult Learning Programs at Temple Blah-Blah-Blah including a class on making challah that’s taught by a five star chef who was on Food Network once.”

Kosher: something that annoys Jewish non-profits. Most Jews don’t keep kosher, but feel this obligation to have food brought in from kosher caterers just-in-the-off-chance that someone complains. Ironically, most of the JCCs that you go to do not have kosher kitchens, which defies logic or financial sense, considering that catering costs major bucks but throwing your pots and pans in the mikvah is only about $75 (Atlanta pricing). Also, no one has any idea what the term “glatt” means, but it sounds important so meat is always glatt.

“All of the food at the Young Jewish Professionals Networking Event is catered by Kornblatt’s kosher glatt deli. The guest speaker is Rabbi Yehuda Feldman who will be speaking on Jewish Business Ethics and the marketing director, Kevin Scherr, who just got off tour with Matisyahu is going to be DJing the event all night long…or at least until everyone has to go to bed.”

Share this:

Every year before Yom Kippur, the Jewish day of atonement, I make a blog post of every sin I have committed in the previous year…a socially networked vidui. This ritual of mine stems back to a debate about whether sins should even be announced publicly (which might have consequences) or privately, where they might have less impact on the person who seeks teshuva (return).

At any rate, my theory has always been that the government, non-profit organizations, multi-national corporations and Facebook have all of our sins logged somewhere in a massive database, so announcement of sins in public is really not that big of a deal. So here it goes.

Patrick Aleph’s 5770 Vidui

Shellfish. Not intentionally, but when you go out for sushi with people who love shrimp, accidents do happen.

Being A Crummy Friend. Several times this year I disappointed people. It’s mostly because I never answer my phone, or my phone is dead and I forget to charge it. I don’t push hard enough to maintain relationships with people when I really should. This is a major character flaw on my part and something I really need to work on. I also need to go to more of my friends’ shows…or just go out more in general. It’s a myth that someone who works for PunkTorah would party a lot. I’m actually, painfully domestic. Also, I don’t make myself available to people like I should.

Putting Work Before Life. I’m not always the best at balancing work and life. I know that’s not really a sin itself, but it does cause a slippery slope because you start to neglect everything else. Too tired to go to synagogue (keeping the Sabbath)? Too stressed out to call your parents (honoring your mother and father)? It all comes together in one big stew of personal disappointment.

Lashon Hara (Gossip). I’m a blogger, so it comes with the territory. But on several occasions, I spoke about people in ways that I shouldn’t have. It’s judgmental, rude, and in practical terms, always comes back to bite you. Especially in a small community like the Jewish community, talking smack about others is just plain stupid.

Meat and Milk Mixing. Couldn’t find any vegetarian food in New Orleans at the Birthright Israel Next National Convention, so I ate a sandwich that (I discovered as I was eating) had cheese on it. Oops.

Placing Blame On Others. I’ve had a few instances where I was so overwhelmed by life that when something wasn’t going the way I wanted (and of course, I am the center of the universe, no?) I decided the smartest thing to do was to place blame on others. I feel sorry about that.

Quickness To Anger. I tend to bottle things up. For as much as I tell people to be honest with me, I’m really bad about not talking about the things that matter to me. I tend to assume that if I have to make the point of telling people what I want, then those are people who don’t care anyway and that it’s useless. So I suppose this is a two-part confession: a confession that I need to chill out, but that I also need to give people more credit.

Not Living Up To Expectations. Adult ADD makes me get involved in too many things at once. Other people aren’t like that, so when I’m unable to live up to what I set out to do, on a certain level I forget, “ok dude, you should hold back making plans until you know you can actually follow through.” I think I’m better about this, but at the same time, it makes me feel like a jerk because when people come to me and ask me to get involved in things, I have to say no. It feels like a no-win situation sometimes. But nevertheless, I’m working on it.

Facebook. ‘nough said.

Greed. I really need to give more tzedakah. I think this is a common problem among people in the non-profit world. We assume that since we work in a “need based” field, our whole lives are a tzedakah. But they are not. That’s a cop out. I also tend to chase after money. It’s a psychological defect created by years of self employment and living on the edge. I’m fine now. Time to lay that Yetzer Hara aside.

Well there ya have it. Now it’s time to smack my chest and starve.

Share this:

On the flip side, we get these kinds of comments:

“There’s no such thing as online Jewish community.”

“You are trying to destroy physical communities.”

“There’s no way that any of this is even possible. It all violates Jewish law.”

To those who nay-say online community, I’d like to point you to three of the most brilliant minds in the world (thanks to the Ted Talks), all of whom agree that deconstructed online community is not only changing the world for the better, but also a natural extension of the human mind. Bottom line: the geniuses of the world support online community. So why resist?

The Internet enables intimacy between people (so much for that whole destroying-relationships-thing)

Technology creates tribes (and we’re members of The Tribe, no?)

Children can teach themselves (how will this effect bar mitzvah students?)

Share this:

By Danny Stauffer

One day as I was studying the Torah I noticed that the commandment to love the stranger was repeated several times. I’m sure as good Jews we’ve all read the Torah and noticed the same thing. In fact, I think anybody, regardless of your level of observance, has come across that commandment several times during their studies.
Why is it repeated so many times? One could assume that a commandment repeated is probably pretty important. So the reason? Because we were once strangers in Egypt. It’s all about not sympathy, but empathy. We have been there before. In fact, we’re there now. If you live anywhere outside of Israel, you’re not in a Jewish nation. So, you could say that we are strangers once again in another’s land.
None of that is news to any of you, I’m sure. What might be news to you is that this commandment seems to be quite often forgotten. If not forgotten then outright ignored! I, believe it or not, am a stranger. I did not come to Judaism through the womb but instead through conversion (which I’m still in that process). And oddly enough, some of the most discouraging people have been Jews.  I have been told by Jews that because I’m a homosexual, even with an Orthodox conversion, I’d never be a real Jew. And I’m not the only one.
During my time as a “Jew Under Construction” I’ve developed a network of other converts and people who are converting. And would you believe it? I’m not the only one who faces these issues. A very good friend of mine was so immersed in her Jewish community that even the men (it was a Frum community) were astonished by her knowledge. Yet many refused to call her a Jew.  She eventually gave up. No community wanted her to be a part of it so she became a Muslim in order to have a community to pray with (there is nothing wrong with that, of course. It’s just unfortunate that she had to seek elsewhere for a religious community.). After her conversion to Islam her rabbi encouraged her room mates to move out of the apartment.
Where is the kindness to strangers there? Perhaps the more frum will say that we need to segregate ourselves to keep us free from outside influences. But what will that accomplish? I find more segregated Jews leaving their faith than integrated Jews. I can understand being against intermarriage, but let’s face it; we live in a world of non-Jews. We can’t just ignore the rest of the population.  I always thought the whole idea behind Judaism and Tikkun Olam was to lead by example. Therefore, when somebody wishes to follow our example, even if not in our exact idea, should we not encourage it? Should we not assist in it?
I have accepted the fact that no matter what route I take for my conversion there will always be large portions of the Jewish community who don’t see me as Jewish.  For the most part, I am fine with just ignoring them. With or without a conversion I consider myself Jewish and bound by Jewish law. And part of that law tells me that I have to treat the stranger with kindness and respect. And some day, when the stranger approaches me and asks me how he, too, can become a Jew, I wouldn’t dare tell him to think twice. I wouldn’t tell him he can’t be Jewish because he’s different. I won’t judge him. I will instead give him a hug and call him brother.

Share this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qZeo0YRdpi0

Share this:

Jewish Communal Professional: anyone who works for a Jewish non-profit that is specifically Jewish in nature (example: Jewish National Fund, Birthright Israel, PunkTorah). Note that this does not apply to owners of Jewish for-profit businesses, even if they give more tzedekah than the non-profits do.

“Joshua just got a job at Hazon as Director of Youth Projects. We’re so excited to have another Jewish Communal Professional in the family. Too bad he wasn’t a doctor like Gerald.”

Engagement: getting Jews in a room to do something, no matter what it is, and taking credit for it. Ideally, this activity would have some kind of Jewy-ness to it, but even that is open for debate.

“Here at the local JCC we are actively involved in engagement, which is why we host a kosher pizza party once a month in the lobby. And it only takes us three months to plan it, which is great turn around time given all the meetings we have to have.”

Community Building: also called Community Development, this involves getting people to know about what your organization does and getting them to become involved.

“XYZ Jewish Organization is committed to community building, bridging the gap between the people who care about what we’re doing, and the people who could care less.”

Doing Jewish: a term coined by college Hillel (also called Hill-Hell by people who have interned there in their youth), “doing Jewish” is similar to engagement in that it gets Jews doing something Jewish together. The difference is that engagement is more formal, while doing Jewish is more relaxed. It can also mean that you are doing something Jewish right now, and are unavailable to do something else.

“Steven can’t go to the movies tonight. He’s doing Jewish over at the Hillel House on campus. Something about Israel…I don’t remember. I think some Israeli guy is telling everyone about the Floatilla thing that happened three months ago.”

Jewish Leadership Training: no different that any other kind of leadership training, except that there’s a bunch of Jewish folks doing it. The training is usually in the form of an institute, a weekend retreat with something called “breakout sessions” and kosher food despite the fact that no one keeps kosher.

“Adam just got home from Jewish Leadership training in Teaneck. I think it will really help him as the new Director of Engagement.”

Immersion: taking someone and making them “do Jewish” for an extended period of time or with some kind of intensity. Like engagement, but on steroids and more expensive.

“This two year immersion program brings post-college Jews to neighborhoods in Israel to learn language, culture, and build relations between the US and Israel. It’s like Birthright, but for a really, really long time.”

Donor Development: fundraising from people

Strategic Development: fundraising from organizations

Long Term Financial Planning: thinking about fundraising from people and organizations

“Whether you call it donor development, strategic development or long term financial planning, we’re still trying to get people to give us their money. The older folks are the easiest ones.”

Team Building: some kind of pre-meeting activity that reminds you of summer camp or elementary school, is supposed to connect you with your spirit (see Oprah) and get people to learn more about you. Usually very childish, but we put up with it because there’s that one person who will complain if we don’t do it and make our lives really painful until the next meeting.

“Before our meeting of the Temple Sisterhood, I’d like to do a team building activity where we each go around the room and say our name, where we are from, and the name of a fruit that describes us best.”

Communications Management: the process of any large Jewish organization saying something. It usually takes several weeks and involves multiple meetings. The steps are as follows: 1) something happens (see Floatilla). 2) Jewish organization sits around for a while and talks about it. Possibly some team building taking place. 3) Multiple meetings of higher-ups who relay the message to the people lower-on-the-totem-pole. 4) PR person writes an email. It goes to the head honcho who approves it. 5) Email goes out. No one cares.

“We’re really glad that we have a new communications management specialist here at XYZ Organization. She has a masters degree from Brown and knows how to set up Microsoft Outlook. By the way, did anyone hear about Neil Armstrong landing on the moon? Crazy, huh? I just read about it in the Middle Market Jewish Times next to Sheila Rosenbloom’s kugel recipe.”

Jewish Community: three possible definitions for this. 1) The number of Jews in a city (how this is determined is still unknown). 2) The number of people in a given city that are involved with Jewish organizations (also called the Active Jewish Community). This number is usually 25% of the bigger number. 3) The number of Active Jewish Community people who go to events regularly and take on some role of prominence. This number is about 1% of the active Jewish Community.

So to recap: there are 100,000 Jews in Atlanta. 25,000 are active. 250 are really active. So how big is the community? We’re still not sure. But darn it if we’re not gonna get them active!

“He’s really active in building the Jewish community. Thirty people came to that JCC kosher pizza party. It was incredible. David Kleinbloom was there talking about Jewish immersion programs. Lots of engagement. Really great. I bet they got a lot of development out of it. But really, it’s about getting the Jewish communal professionals together to discuss communications management and community building. It’s a real exercise for the JCC, too. Good thing they all went to Jewish Leadership training.”

Share this:

After the film, we invite you to post your thoughts about circumcision below. Also, we will be having live discussions in our OneShul prayer services and a Q & A with the filmmaker after High Holidays.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bx89xECfHG4

Please give the movie a few minutes to buffer (load up) if you are on a slow internet connection.

Share this:

What do we as Jews do that makes us so deserving of G-d’s praise and warm light? What have we done in order to wear white on Yom Kippur and not deem ourselves hypocrites within the halls of our shuls and the streets of our communities? White is such an unflattering color! Yet, this white symbolizes purity and stands as the visual indicator for a new chapter in the book of life. It becomes more interesting when you see people wearing white clothing and leather kippot. As if they are fooling Hash-m or a moderately educated child who emerged from basic Sunday school class.

We wear white in hopes to be inscribed in the book of life. How do we get there? How do we get to that point where we get another year? If we die, does that mean we did not follow Halakah so closely that we are doomed? Elderly people hang in the balance less that someone who defaces a Torah or commits an act of haste? Then every bully on the school yard would drop dead after hanging the poor wimpy kid upside down to take his milk money. The jails would be empty because Hash-m realizes tax money should go to innocent and hungry, so He would “take them out”. It does not seem to work this way.

So there they are… all the Jews in Los Angeles, the mid west, New York, Israel, South Africa and all the scattered Diasporas around the world. What are they wearing? White! On Kol Nidre, we present our case, or our attempt to correct what wrong doings we have made in the past year, to the “court”. The whole congregation stands before Hash-m. Again, this is ironic, seeing that your avyerot are individually done, but as a community Jews stand together.  This is another visual. It stands as a reminder that we are a unit, not just an individual. That what one Jew does, can and very much will, affect another. Many of the times, when we commit our acts of injustice,  we as Jews forget that in many daily situations we are the only Jews someone from an outside community may know.

Our children, what good does it do for them to wear white and see the rest of the community doing so? As Jewish people, we have brilliantly found ways in which to say a ton without speaking. This is like when your mother only says “Oy!” after you have brought someone home to meet her and she is displeased. Or, it’s when you pass the kuggel interrupting a bit of Leshon Horrah that’s happening at the table. It’s nonverbal! Your kids hear you enough all year. Sometimes as parents or adults, we take pleasure hearing our own voices. In shul, every adult wearing white is standing in solidarity. It says for many, “Today is important. Today I came prepared. Today I acknowledge G-d.” Rarely do Jews agree, so to speak together sets a precedence.

For those of you who haven’t prepared for the Holy Holidays, it’s okay, you have time! However, let you be encouraged to stand before your G-d in white. It does not promise you inscription nor does it promise you praise and blessings, but it does mandate the community to pick up the visual testament of the Jewish faith. Without white attire, Yom Kippur could look like any other day. It is only correct to offer it the purest contribution your heart can provide.

Be true to the streets

Yentapunker

Share this:

Originally posted on Jewcy.

Once upon a time, a group of people decided to start an online synagogue called OneShul. This independent minyan consisted of two buddies in Atlanta (a graphic designer and his weirdly Type-A musician friend) and all their friends that they met online who loved Judaism and were a little different in their own, unique ways.

In a chat room attached to their temporary cyber sanctuary the friends talked about what they wanted the synagogue to look like, feel like, and how they wanted to be represented as a community. They knew they wanted, more than anything, for the world to know that you can have a Jewish community on the internet that is just as good as any JCC or million-dollar synagogue down the street.

So they did what any reasonable group would do: they started an IndieGoGo page to raise money to make their shul happen.

Stay tuned for details as they happen…

Share this:

Previously posted on TampaBay.com

For every old Yenta who yells at me for having tattoos, I’d like to introduce you to my new home girl Mimi Rosenthal, who at the age of 101 got her second tattoo.

No matter how you feel about tattoos and Judaism, I think we can all say that a woman who has survived two World Wars, Korea, Vietnam and every little skirmish in between while being a world traveler, has four great-grandchildren and plans on getting her next tattoo on her butt is someone who deserves to do whatever she wants.

And did I mention she’s 101!!!!!!!

Share this:

We as the new revolution of Jews ask ourselves about how we feel in social situations in regards to our religion. Is it okay to marry a gentile? Do I have to go to Passover at my cousin’s house when I might be able to visit with friends instead? There’s a holiday party with beer involved; am I going to be able to make it to work or school the next day if need be? This is how we stereotypically live our Jewish lives in the 21st century. When someone says “I am religious” or uses the term “frum”, we immediately shy away as a subculture and almost separate “us” from “them”. Why aren’t we asking more important questions, like who are they? And why did I go to Jewish day school, but never have Jewish celebrations at my house or go to synagogue? Why is it that in movies like Garden State, we giggle when they explain synagogues have to move into other buildings on Yom Kippur because during the rest of the year no one cares? It is almost as though the term religious Jew means a “black hat” or a man with peyos and a large beard, strolling along side a woman in a long skirt, a poorly woven wig, and their 36 children lined up on the way to Shabbat services. These MUST be the “practicing” ones.

I am well aware that we as a society are terribly wrong about our vision of what it means to be religious. About five years ago, in a grassroots shul, a beautiful woman in her twenties quietly sneaks into the service, grabbing a siddur and is sitting alone. She is quiet and confident, closely following along and even in some portions, adding supplemental reading others around her have not learned or attempted. Her hair is covered and she is wearing a long sleeve shirt and a skirt that kisses the floor as she walks. It isn’t until she turns that I realize the sleeves are sheer and her Greenpeace tattoo is blaring me in the face! I was destined to meet this woman! Amongst many more tattoos I learn this woman builds bicycles, is deeply into film, has a college degree, is vegan and  would later have an orthodox conversion and was not married (despite her wrapped hair).  She was everything her appearance did not suggest. However, she is still so connected to Hash-m, that she is the essence of the word “frum”.

Another face that did not meet the guidelines of the stereotypical box is one of my favorite bloggers. Sure he studied at a Yeshiva and davvens every morning!  He is a real FFB (Frum From Birth), but he also questions the Frum community and does not believe in the social hypocrisy of it all. After a night of discussing inappropriate behaviors, mainly ones you’d do in a fraternity house, and discussing if these were acts against torah, I woke to see him checking his email, wrapped in tefilin and mouthing the prayer by heart!

My favorite vision of a religious Jew is the one of my grandmother (in her blessed memory). I had never seen her walk into a synagogue or a religious service outside of a funeral and my baby naming. She had never kept a kosher kitchen in her life and did not step foot in the state of Israel. She did not understand Hebrew, she did not have a religious education, she wore slacks and tiny little slippers around town. My grandmother spoke with the cutest Brooklyn accent and raised two daughters while working for an aerospace company in the 1950s. She always smelt of gardenias and watched Murder She Wrote and Matlock. I was a little kid, no more than 9 years old, snuggled in my grandma’s room. She’d tuck me in, kiss me and then rolled over. I could hear her whisper something over and over again, but I could not make out the words. What was she saying? What couldn’t she tell me? Ahhh! I have ADHD grandma, I need to know what you’re saying!  I interrupt her softly spoken words and ask, “Grandma, what are you whispering?” The most profound and utterly religious moment I have ever had was right then and there, “I am asking G-d to protect you Rachel. I pray every night in hopes that He will watch over you as he has done for me and your mommy.” At the time, I only knew this was my role model for prayer. What I didn’t realize is that my sociologically, stereotypical, culturally Jewish woman, of a grandma was in fact going against a social norm. She used prayer daily to connect with Hash-m.

These three people have nothing in common outside of their religious background. Their appearance is not similar to one another and they have no reason to exchange glances or connect with one another. They have found their own roots in the heart of their religious foundation.

The new and “modern” Jew seems to be fearful to embrace old tradition. It’s almost like the word prayer has escaped the “new Jewish” lexicon. Like Judaism does not have enough to offer spiritually, so we must entice our youngsters with Buddhist enlightenment, making new trends like “Bu-Jew” and sporting their stereotypical “Moses is my homeboy “shirts.  When looking at fliers on college campuses today, we see organizations that feed off of the new sub cultural Jews; they are caught avoiding their Jewish mothers and looking for a free and warm meal. The vision of the stereotypical Jew should no longer be the “black hatter” of our parent’s times. The new stereotype is the religiously ambivalent and the mal-educated wrapped in a (Name Your Jewish Organization Here) t-shirt that they got for free. The face of Judaism has changed. The new face of religion is far removed from prayer and smothered in the contextual pop culture society we see today.

Be true to the streets,

Yentapunker

Share this:

Are you there Hashem? It’s me, Gefiltepunker.

Recently I attended a film screening of USHPIZIN. It’s the story of a Hasidic ‘Baal Teshuva’ (returning to Judaism), couple who lives in the Breslov community in Jerusalem. They are questioning and exploring their faith in G-D as they deal with infertility, financial hardship and are tested and pushed to the limits by an unruly, ex- convict, pair of guests from the protagonist’s past, who show up for Sukkot. In the end, G-D has delivered, but prayer is what has inextricably carried them through to their happy ending.

And this is what got me thinking and questioning. How important is prayer in your life? For the couple in this movie prayer was essential in their daily routine, it was a very direct request, reaching out to G-D to explain and show mercy so that they could further their worship of G-D. How do you put your prayer into practice? What do you expect as a result of your prayers? Can we expect miracles/ G-D to always answer our prayers? Or do we pray for G-D just to guide us, but in a way for us to help ourselves?

How we do it, the frequency and effort that we put into it and what we expect in return will vary from Jew to Jew. My friend who attended the screening with me also raised the question, “What’s your daily prayer?” She herself was trying to find a prayer that spoke to her sensibilities, felt warm and inviting and to carry her through her own day. At which point I immediately suggested the Shema, which is my personal go-to prayer. I recalled always reciting the Shema carefully in Hebrew school. I often found myself speed reading through other morning prayers just to get through it and on to the next, but not with Shema. Even though I don’t remember all the words by heart, I think of it and I recite it to myself in my own personal times of need.

My friend had a very different reaction to the prayer. She found it cold, uninviting, just not as meaningful to her as I found it. We had very different pre-existing relationships and attitudes toward this prayer. Any suggestions out there from folks of how to find the prayer that’s right for you?

Share this:

Jewniks of the 21st Century

by YentaPunker

This publication was inspired by one of my professors, Dr. Ball, and written in honor of Patrick Aleph.

In the 1950s Jack Kerouac, alongside many of his dubbed “Beatnik” friends, wrote a novel in three weeks called “On The Road”. It took Mr. Kerouac 7 years to travel the county and continually do some soul searching. A man growing up with the social repercussions in America of The Great Depression, World War II, and The Cold War, needed a place to avoid conformity.

It is within his subculture, the Beats, that he found refuge. The Beats avoided the “Corporation Man” and refused to end up like their fathers. They looked for deeper, transcendent meaning in their quest for a new tomorrow.  They gave new definitions and context to words used within the culture, providing meaning that redefined their acceptable behaviors. These Beats valued poetry, books, Bebop, and were compelled to find the authentic in their everyday lives.

With all youth subcultures comes backlash by those who fear change or have different values systems. The Beats were called “Beatniks” in a satirical reference to Sputnik, the satellite. Their dark clothing and hair styles were criticized, as though their parents had not been an active participant in the Flapper era. If their parents were more accustomed to the Victorian way of life, it was even more horrendous on the family.

So why would PunkTorah even come close to this movement we see as a joke within movies like “So I Married an Axe Murderer”? It’s an easy grab. PunkTorah was created for those of us who are looking to redefine Judaism. It does not mean we want to start a new sect, but merely to identify that we as Jews are on the preverbal search that Kerouac so graciously and vigorously wrote about.

PunkTorah’s overall goal is to transcend from classification and create the authentic embodiment of Judaism at its core. These Jews too value books and poetry. Some of these books are valued cross sects of the religion, but others may be less accepted in other communities.  We cannot be defined by labels! Clearly the genre of Punk is rebellious in nature. It redefines how Punk may use the connotation of rules and order, but defies what our larger community expects from us; we desire individuality. This is not our parent’s Judaism. This sense of the nishama seeps from the very embodiment of the way we davven, dress, speak, and carry about in our temporal lives.

Kerouac had no intention of being connected to Judaism, but he captures what Jews in their teens, 20’s, 30’s (and even those above) are reaching for. He writes of the holy when things cannot get any worse. He sets his characters up for failure, but they do not lose hope or insight to themselves. They separate themselves from the collective whole in hopes that they too will understand themselves in the context of the temporal world. Their rebellion is not one in hopes of destruction, but that based on progressive change. This is PunkTorah’s take on Judaism. We are the change that’s in the world. Our hearts pray they way they know how and our actions follow. We have redefined words, but not taken meaning from them. Continually on the road, we struggle with our journey of life. We are the Jewniks your Jewish mothers warned you about.  Are we perfect? No, we simply are the authentic form of G-d’s creation, human.

Be True to the Streets-

Yentapunker

Share this:

School started today for many kids across the country. The lucky few of us are still enjoying our summer vacation.

Judaism puts a strong emphasis on education, and it seems appropriate to ask, “can the Torah teach us anything about secular education?”

I’m not an education expert, and I will not claim I am. Nor am I a particularly political person. But I will say that I believe Judaism does have a lot of values that the non-Jewish, secular education community should adopt…not because they are good “Jewish” values, but because they are good values to begin with.

Keep the Material Meaningful and Relevant - the phrase “d’var Torah” means “teaching on the Torah”. A d’var doesn’t involve just telling a story, but giving it a modern understanding that is applicable to our daily lives. So often, teachers teach in a way that does not relate their material to anything that I would consider to be part of normal life. We end up valuing the teacher who can relate geometry to Rock Band or Charles Dickens to the newest Will Ferrell movie because it takes the boring, the irrational, the complex and the confusing and puts it into a context that makes complete sense. I doubt that Amelek would have much meaning today if it weren’t for those teachers of Torah who find a way to make it meaningful.

Scholarly Debate – I’ve gotten into a lot of arguments with teachers. Half the time I was right, the other half I was wrong. The teachers who mean the most to me, looking back, are the ones who allowed me to argue with them. They weren’t afraid of the challenge and more importantly, they knew that by exercising my mind (even when I was dead wrong), they were setting me down the path to being a smarter adult. Jews believe in this intellectual back-and-forth, the most notable hallmark being the Talmud, which is nothing but a bunch of dead rabbis arguing about the finer points of Judaism.

Be Flexible to the Needs and Skills of Others – Each tribe had their own skill set, from being the ritual priests to the construction of the Mishkan to fighting in battle. At no time in the Torah does Moses say, “OK Levites, you’re doing great with the whole Priestly Class thing, but we really need to focus more on your basket making and pottery.” So much of education is about teaching something new and outside of someone’s boundaries, that we forget the importance of helping people excel at what they are already inclined toward. As an adult, I spend absolutely no time voluntarily doing things I don’t want to do. So why is that the bed rock of education as we know it?

I hope everyone enjoys their first day of school. Kul Tuv!

Share this:

Dear Besherit-

Thanks for not showing up again. Oh, wait… I should start this out a little nicer. Do you remember when I was a teenager and I thought I would have found you by the time I was 25 so by 27 I could be married. I am totally okay with not being married, but let me tell you these first dates are starting to really suck ass. I meet men who say I am “too Jewish” or “not Jewish enough”. My mother is starting to tense up every time I commit to another failed (again) relationship. I have decided you’re probably sitting in a coffee house or a pub right now with friends wondering why I am no where in sight. Maybe we even know one another, however, I doubt it because I am sure my instincts would have told me so.

Let me catch you up a bit. I work as an English teacher for 11^th graders in Orange County. I have found it’s pretty cool to play Dr. Dre or some Israeli rap while the kiddos do their vocabulary. I know, you’re stuck doing some horrible nonprofit work (sense the sarcasm) or sitting at a desk making the world a better place. I just hate that you and I enjoy work so much that we might not have met. What the heck?

Now how dare you possibly have passed by me at some random Jewish function in Los Angeles, Long Beach, or Orange County. I know you didn’t mean to, but I was surrounded by so many people. I get it, you played coy. That’s cool… but I am pretty dense, you’ll have to be more upfront with me.

I would have made you a CD of all the dance music my students gave me. I have been jamming on it in the car and cutting a rug with friends every so often at Woody’s on the Warf of Newport Beach. I know you like to dance. I get it. Bar Mitzvas are where you can try out all your craziness.

Speaking of which my dress was not creased or wrinkled! I washed it and use this anti wrinkle spray on it. I am clearly wearing flats to that evening you need me to attend for your work. I don’t want to fall like the time I did on 2^nd street (totally sober mind you) and broke my wrist, all because I wore a small heal. I am a klutz! I cant help it! And for your information I didn’t spend ANYTHING on the sweater, I sewed the flowers on an old one because I was bored. So there! J

In Los Angeles, there is this awesome Carlebach minyon that I like to daven at on Pico. Naw, I know you and I aren’t frum, but I am really glad that you understand I like to tap into my spiritual side and it’s cool that you support me in my religious zealousness every now and again. By the way, I appreciate you cooking vegetarian for me because your kitchen isn’t kosher and mine is. I am really excited that you don’t give a shit that I separate my milk from my meat. It was cute how you sang the song from NOFX as you stepped into my kitchen. Ha! And yes, I would like to go to the music festival with you.

You love Star Wars and a Bronx Tale too? Holy crap! Maybe we can have a marathon on a rainy day and then make fun of one another as my dog and cat make plans to escape from my condo because you and I are just so damn weird together. I have decided before I meet you under the chuppah I want the “dum dum” sound from Law and Order to play. I know, you wake up to me watching it at odd hours of the night and you find it charming. I like that you smile at my weird idiosyncrasies. Can you pass the frozen yogurt since you’re getting up to grab the newspaper anyway? You know I am more up on my politics than you are… don’t try and act like you know something before me. Silly!

Oh, you moved my bookmarker you stinker. I was reading _________________ in the bathroom, but apparently you also took a liking to it. Get another bookmarker and I can share it with you. For goodness sakes, put the seat down though! I almost fell in and Phoebe likes to drink from the bowl. Gross!

Last weekend I forgot to tell you thanks for coming to my softball game. The Matzo Ballers have gotten so much better since we have two non Jews on the team. Go figure right? J I wrote about it on my blog and somehow ended up sending some rant to PunkTorah as well. That site is really taking off and I am proud to have a small hand in it. Michael seems to put up with me, but Patrick is really the catalyst for all my nonsense.

My mother called three times yesterday asking when you are going to join my parents on the boat. I told them you’re excited, but I wanted to take you on the kayak with me and Willow, my pup, before you commit to a day of Jewish parents on the open seas. Nothing says rockier than Jewish parents and 10 foot swells.

I should get to bed so I can wake up early and see the new exhibit at LACMA or the Getty. I know, how many museums can I visit in a year? I don’t mean to be a geek, but I ran out of acrylic paints and my sewing is really coming together and I want new inspirations. Yes, you’re a muse, but I really love Van Gogh’s painting style. Either you can come with and we can nosh on some yummy Asian fooders or you can hang with the boys and see me tomorrow night if you like. The day after I’m headed to a “Handmade” fair again. I know, more art…! When you get time we’ll take a weekend to drive up the coast or to go to Napa or something as we discussed. I like weekends with you. Stop pretending like you’re the funny one. Okay, you do make me laugh so hard I am sure I’m going to explode, but you think I am pretty goofy too AND YOU LOVE IT!

Okay Mr. go getter punk rock briefcase using contradiction of a Jewish man (aka my besherit), we’ll talk tomorrow.

XOXO and be true to the streets-

Yentapunker

Share this:

(Originally posted here)

That is the question…

In yeshiva I found a wallet while riding my bike once, after telling someone, I forget who, possibly a beis medrish guy – he told me some shocking news. He told me that there was a whole gemara about not returning things to non-Jews and not giving them gifts, I was shocked and super happy at the time, years later I regret the whole incident, but my Rosh Yeshiva confirmed the news, he said that the guy could get a new license and the chances of him knowing what a Jew was were slim and that meant that no Kiddush hashem could be made so halachically I shouldn’t return it. You cannot imagine the joy of being told as a 15 year old who wondered about the silly stringencies in yeshiva dorm life that it was halachically demanded that I keep a lost wallet, I was overjoyed and told my father who confirmed the Rosh Yeshiva’s ruling and told me about the gemara, for a split second I thought maybe I would take an interest in gemara, I didn’t until my late 20’s, but I digress.

I was sitting at the table this past Friday night when an interesting conversation in a similar vein took place. The conversation revolved around doing things because they are the right thing to do, versus doing them for a Kiddush Hashem and that concept really struck me. It struck me how we are constantly being told to do things to make a Kiddush Hashem, not because they are the right thing to do and I personally think that’s a pretty crappy way to teach people the difference between right and wrong.

In someone is always paying attention to making a Kiddush Hashem, basically showing someone that because they are openly Jews they are going to do the right thing, that seems to take away from the whole thing in the first place. If we said to our children “do this because it’s the right thing to do” rather than “do this because it’s a Kiddush Hashem” it seems to be a much better lesson. If we teach people to do something because it’s the right thing to do, they will always do it no matter if they can be identified as a Jew or not. I can imagine people doing things that shouldn’t be done because they are lacking the public statement of being Jews.

It sounds way nicer and more moral to say something like returning this lost wallet is the right thing to do rather than “I will get a Kiddush hashem for returning this lost object.”In this case I would have to take the heretical route and go against the Torah, because in my mind keeping the wallet is wrong, regardless of the gemaras teachings, although I don’t think it’s heretical to disagree with something that has some outdated philosophies. I am sure that back in the day, returning a lost object may have been excuse to start a pogrom or something, but these days it’s likely to spark a nice post on the local craigslist rants and raves section.

Share this:

By Pamela Alexander

I was at the cafe rocking to the Sex Pistols when a friend came over to say hello. Bob is an evangelical Christian pastor who has never tried to debate the merits of our respective faiths, or tried to “win me to Jesus” (and thank G-d for small miracles!) His respect for our differences has allowed us to forge a friendship based on a mutual love for HaShem and a desire to follow His commandments. Baruch Hu.

When I told Bob I was listening to my favorite punk band, he roared with laughter. “Pamela! How can you listen to the Sex Pistols and be a religious Jew,” as if punk rock was anathema to faith. While he used different words, it echoed for me shades of “what makes a ‘good Jew,’ good?” I reminded Bob that I was not a fundamentalist, that my Judaism included teachings from the past and the present, and that as much as I challenge what Judaism has always been, I challenge with equal tenacity and enthusiasm what Judaism has become.

Well, that sounded intellectual enough. I can simultaneously delight in our oral tradition, without relegating myself to the 18th century. I can live in our post-modern world, recognizing the many things that must change without crashing head first into secularism. It’s a nice balance, right? I am always hearing about how we should strive for balance in all areas of our lives; it’s supposed to be a good thing. But, never mind the mental health experts. What does G-d desire of me? If my life is to bring about tikkun olam, is this the way I should go?

Can I be the Jew G-d wants me to be if I approach my faith, my Torah and Him, as if in Jewish deli, and is that what I’m doing?: picking and choosing what sounds good at the time, what is easy on my wallet, easy to eat in the car, and easy to digest? In other words, give me Orthodoxy as long as it’s always enjoyable, requires little sacrifice, is very convenient and will never give me heartburn?

When people of faith petition their institutions for change, whether it be Catholics who want Vatican approval for birth control, Presbyterians who challenge the ban on gay pastors (I cannot help but wonder what the members themselves think of the Presbyterian Church’s call for a world-wide boycott against everything Israel) and Jews who want Orthodox Rabbis to perform inter-marriage ceremonies, my gut reaction is always the same: you cannot ask a centuries-old religion to change its fundamental doctrine to suit your individual needs. But, what of Judaism?

I believe the Torah was inspired by G-d and while I believe that our Sages were also inspired through their deep prayer and study ~ and while their writings did become Jewish law, I have never viewed them as having the same voice as our prophets (even though the tale of the carob tree tells us that G-d responded that “the Torah is not in heaven!”) Maimonides was not Isaiah, Nachmanides was not Jeremiah, Akiva not Daniel. If this is indeed the case, why would we follow rabbinic law with the same fervor and commitment as we do biblical law?

What does this say of traditional Judaism, which is far more rabbinic in nature than it is biblical? And, what of today’s rabbis, perhaps even less “inspired” than our Sages (and I realize that this entire line of thinking is highly problematic). Currently, it is perhaps by five American Orthodox rabbis who issue poshkim, current Jewish law, that most of us will be most profoundly affected; that is, if we desire to follow halachah as set forth by them. Current poshkim address such as politically hot issues as assisted-suicide and stem cell research.

If I am going to pursue halachah, should I not first require myself to think, pray and make decisions on the relative importance I ascribe, for example, to biblical as opposed to rabbinic law, to the importance of tradition versus change? If I find that I do wish to balance what are ancient though not archaic laws, with current ideas, should I not first decide how I am to create that balance? To which view should I give deference?

As the Pistols go, their name is the most provocative thing about them. If I can share their lyrics with my parents without shame or embarrassment, it’s a pretty good sign that they are not a morally corrupting influence! The real issue is, if I had made a decision to become as observant as possible, and a poshka were issued prohibiting the listening to the Sex Pistols, would I throw out my records? Or, would I decide to follow my own heart, and my own beat, picking and choosing at the rock and roll delicatessen? Hmm.

Honestly? While part of me hopes I would pursue other types of music, I know that I would turn it up just as loud. Yeah, I’m sure I’d go kicking and screaming on this.

Share this:

I had a friendly debate with a gentlemen I was meeting about what it means to be Jewish. He challenged my opinions, but I did not feel like he was being rude or even trying to convince me another way. This friendly exchange is rare, so I took to him pretty quickly.

As it turns out he asked me questions about my faith that I did not have concrete answers for. I mean, what seems like truth to me, does not always seem that way for someone else. I always feel Hashem, but I do not always have “proof” of Him. It makes it complicated when discussing with someone who has a different perspective, but again… I did like this conversation so I continued to entertain different thoughts.

Finally, it came down to this one conclusion I had. If someone does not like our faith they’re not “Jewing it right”. He was a bit perplexed when I said it so I explained:

To “Jew it right” you must do something that seems fulfilling to you in the realm of religion. Try and learn something for a Rabbi or a friend; join an organization or a temple or an organization within a temple! You must take that energy that comes from within and apply it spiritually and culturally. Once you are firm in your beliefs and practices (whatever they might be and from whatever sect you belong to *or don’t belong to*) then you will find inner peace and happiness with your relationship to Hashem. This concept is “Jewing it right”. The affirmation that there is 1 soul creator that wants praise and acknowledgment that steams from joy and fulfillment from His creations.

Overall the conversation went well, but I was also excited to see that within the dialogue I had really verbalized how being Jewish is not only something I am committed to, but something that really speaks to my nishama.

Be true to the streets-

Yentapunker

Share this:

My real disappointment lies in the way we are holding modern, “liberal-type” services.  We all sit in rows in a fancy sanctuary, sing songs and follow along and do the “call and response” type of thing. We listen patiently as the leader drones in that “poetry/sing-songy/disingenuous” kind of high pitched voice. And it struck me that it was all so, for lack of a better word, “church-y”. I hated it. It feels like it is copying the Protestant style of Western church worship, from the music to the atmosphere. Someone at the service even made a comment (jokingly, I think) about being “quiet at church”. I thought to myself, “Shouldn’t this be different than church? Why are we trying to be like that? To fit in? No thanks.” We are different, and that should be a good thing. Jews always have been different. We’re iconoclasts! We break down walls and smash idols! Heck, we’re different from each other! You know that old chestnut, “two Jews, three opinions”!

My first exposure to a Chabad type service was really, interesting. We were on vacation, so we went somewhere we normally wouldn’t have gone. This was very different. Everyone seemed to be mumbling and shuckling and I had no idea where I was in the service. After  fifteen minutes I gave up trying and I just followed along as best I could. The shaliach’s kids came right up to him and he would pick up the little ones in between prayers. It was pretty overwhelming and a disorienting.
The same type of thing happened later when I was at a much smaller minyan and everyone was davening at different speeds. I got flustered and frustrated. I even got mad at the guy next to me for going so fast and not doing it “right”.  After thinking later about why I got angry, what about everyone not praying together made me some upset, I figured it out.

Jacob Siegel, in a fantastic post you should check out, put it like this:

In the middle of this cacophony of prayers,  “I would form my own personal connection with G-d, and you, praying beside me, would do the same, and we would each be vocalizing at different paces, and we would each be inspiring the other to achieve a spiritual awareness that we would then carry throughout the day.” This is incredible to me. It is that independence in the midst of community, what I consider almost the definition of Yiddshkeit, that electrifies my neshama.

I’m not saying one way is right and the other wrong. I am saying that it is a shame if we are changing our nature to conform to an idea of what a progressive, liberal service should look like. Something that IndieYeshiva and PunkTorah are trying to do is to bring these ideas back into the way we “do” Jewish, and have them there for us, to make our Yiddishkeit genuine and real, and by “genuine and real” I don’t mean specifically that there is one right way to do things, but a way that resonates with our past. I’m taking about an Integral Judaism that would transcend and include the past (more on that in another post).

I would like to, if I may, let Mr. Siegel take us out, because any paraphrasing on my part would be just that, and I feel he puts is very eloquently:

‘When we pray, we share our energy. I davven, and you hear me and feel inspired, and I hear you and feel further inspired. Let’s thank our cantors for their efforts in service of us and G-d, and ask them to step down from the bimah and stand beside us, as we now all share together in our cleaving to G-d.”

Yasher Koach.

Michael ארי

Share this:

There is a very large debate in some sects of the Jewish world about pets and how to deal with their “circumstances”. Some people believe you cannot spay or neuter a pet because it is against Torah. This leaves a huge problem in our animal world. A rescue kitty or pup is only allowed to be saved from a kennel or from being put down after they have been sterilized. This sterilization is to avoid other animals from being on the streets. Animal population control is an important way to provide security for those who already need love.

Now the big question: Why is it not okay to commit an avayrah in order to do a mitzva? Is it not a mitzva to save an animal from abuse or untimely death? Adoption of an animal is one of the highest forms of respect for G-d’s little creatures, no? The idea of opening your home from 1-20 years for another creature and providing it love and attention seems to be something the Torah would support. How is this act of kindness not over-riding the government mandated rule about adoption animals?

On the human front, we also have operations that deal with human sterilization. We are commanded to be fruitful and multiply (Sefer Hahinuch 291). A woman having her tubes tied is not reversible, nor is having a hysterectomy. My wonderful Jewish mother had her tubes tied the day after I was born. “Crap, look what I made! No more!!!!” Ha! A man who has surgery in health related cases can also be left sterile. The prohibitions of sterilization and marriage, however, remain independent, and therefore indispensable medical treatment that causes infertility (as with some prostate surgeries) does not impact their personal status (Tzitz Eliezer 10:25:24). However, a man can get a vasectomy and have it reversed. Think of it as the same concept of the modern tattoo. Now a man is blocking his seed from fertilization, but it does not have to be a permanent situation. It is said all males must have their sexual organs (Leviticus 22:24).

Shlomo Brody wrote a great article about dealing with animals and fertility for the Jerusalem Post. I recommend people read his article. However, we must learn that our faith has evolved with the social needs of others. Jews are now donors because we are able to save a life once we have perished. We are able to also save lives of animals. These animals deserve to be loved. My rescue cat, Phoebe, and my rescue pup, Willow, have greatly improved my quality of life and I know I have done a mitzva by providing them with a loving home. I will continue to get animals from rescues. I feel the puppy mills and pet shops are the biggest sinners. Selling animals that will eventually end up in a pound and be seen in a commercial with “Arms of an Angel” being played in the background.

Pets are a huge responsibility, but they can also be a blessing. I hope if you’re thinking of buying or adopting a pet, you take into consideration all the issues revolving around the animal. It is a huge sociological benefit to spay and neuter your pets, despite all religious debates.

Be true to the streets-

Yentapunker

Share this:

I ran into one of my elementary school teachers just the other day. I used to love seeing her at school because she was the only Jewish teacher and I also could see her at temple with her twin girls. Beautiful young women they were. I used to watch what they wore, how they did their hair, what they said and the terms they used. Girls a few years older always made an impression on me. I think it was because I am an only child, so I had to learn from somewhere. I used to envy these young ladies.

As I exchanged hellos and quickly caught her up with my life, she shared that her daughters were married and she was the grandmother of 7 children. I became excited until she went further into the fact that her daughters had converted and she was not able to see their weddings. My heart dropped.

1st, you must honor thy mother and father. Not allowing your mom into your wedding because she is Jewish and you have left the faith made me not only want to vomit, but wreak havoc! I mean what a nightmare for a woman who raised you in a warm and loving home. I cannot think of anything worse than ignoring your mother’s feelings and not allowing her to partake in such a serious event. I know that this family was close and that the woman who stood before me was a very active and loving mother; she’s nothing to avoid! Secondly, by Halacha her grandchildren were still Jewish, but they will NEVER know! These 7 children will not be taught their culture and heritage that is rich with beauty and worth.

I get angered. With the Jewish population dwindling and assimilation being such a serious subject. I stood there trying to be happy for this woman who clearly was also uncomfortable with the situation. Two days later I ran into a woman from the salon that I had previously run into my beloved teacher. She said she held my teacher as she cried on the day of her daughters wedding and how sad the whole situation is. I suddenly realized that simcha is really a view point. For her daughters, raising these kids in a loving home is a simcha. Although I am not saying these two women should be burned at the stakes for leaving their faith and mother behind, I am saying their simcha brings tears to many people’s eye. Unfortunately, these are not tears of joy, but tears of grief and anger.

I try and find a place to blame. Was it our synagogue? Maybe they did not do enough outreach. I certainly know I did not find a love for my faith through it. Was it my teacher’s lack of cultural enrichment? Maybe she herself was not taught the deep values of a Jewish home or how much prayer and culture can enrich your being. Should these young women have gone on Birthright as soon as they hit college or not been allowed to date outside their faith as teenagers? It really boggles my mind. In Judaism there is something for everyone! You just have to be proactive like anything else! You did not learn how to tie your shoe without being taught and you will not find a way to be spiritual without being taught in a myriad of ways!

Faith is a prescription and it’s dosage is whatever you make of it. Some of us like the culture. Some find it through social events or religious holidays. Some people are at the 3X daily. This very situation makes me concerned for my own children (G-d willing I ever find Mr. Right). Will I get the dose right or will I too be excluded from a wedding or have grandchildren that will never know what a joy being Jewish is?

Simcha (happiness) is all in perspective.

Be true to the streets!

Yentapunker

Share this:

Jewish Mixers and a lesson on why mixing isn’t always what it is cracked up to be: A lesson on Leshon Horrah….

So it is clear that Jewish mixers are an invention from the Jewish grandmother. They’re sly and cunning and deceptively alluring with food and other freebies. As the summer time warms our beaches and many of us have our outdoor activities, we crave company of friends and significant others. At one particular mixer, I was thrilled to have the pressure off. I was dating someone and was there purely for the social aspect. A-ha! A window of opportunity to not feel pressure within the Jewish community.

I had previously asked a friend if his group would like to join mine for coffee. As I was taking off to go to Aeroma (the wonderful Israeli filled coffee house on the west side of town), I stopped my friend mid-conversation to discuss if they would join us.  As I overheard his friend speaking to him she stated, “That girl has no chance with him (speaking about her male friend and a woman off in the distance). She has a huge nose and she’s ugly!” My heart stopped. The first thing I thought was holy crap. What if I was the girl she was talking about? Secondly, I looked at the girl exchanging a pleasant conversation with handsome male company and this girl making the comment. I figured her Jewish mother had told her she was absolutely beautiful her whole life. Such a warped sense of self. This girl looked like she did not know what a vegetable was. I was shocked such mean things came into my mind and gained my friends attention. The girl who had just said such harsh things waits for me to get in a word to my friend.

I had a very quick inner monologue that went like this:

Holy crap she just bashed another Jew.
Does she know she’s not a 10, not even a 5?
Why am I thinking such horrible things?
I think I am angry that she spoke horribly about this defenseless woman.
What to say? What to say?
Be smart about this, but do not allow her to act like that.

After the monologue, this came out, “ Hey ___________, I was going to ask you if you and your friends were coming, however, as much as I deeply wish you could come, I do not want to expose my wonderful group of loved ones to someone who not only publicly demeans people they don’t know, but seems to take joy from it to make her own esteem flourish.” Her mouth dropped and I suppose she decided to take her anger out on me after I up and left.

The moral: When we open our mouths publicly, we earn judgment from others. It is not always right to judge, but it is ALWAYS right to realize when something should not be socially accepted. Leshon horah, the restriction of speaking with an evil tongue. There is always a reason for G-d’s rules and guidance. A mixer only works when mixing is allowed.

Be true to the streets!

Yentapunker

Share this:

(Originally posted here.)

This entry is a fictionalization based on someone I know.

I left Judaism because I was a raging liberal and now I’m back because I realized what kind of BS liberalism really is. Let me explain. A few years ago I was struggling with being Jewish and being an all inclusive liberal. I wanted to do good and I wanted the world to be a better place and most of all I wanted peace. That’s when I started looking at myself as a Jew. I decided that in order to make the world a better place, I should give up religion, kind of like the song Imagine.

How could I be Jewish and expect equality if the concept of Judaism was against that very basic thought? How could I call myself one of the chosen people if all people were created in God’s image? I left Judaism in the name of liberalism. This is without even talking about the difference of roles for the sexes and the status of Levites and Kohanim. What was so equal about the Levites? Didn’t they do the same thing as us Yisroels? It seemed that Judaism wasn’t about equality and was about labeling everyone based on their mothers or fathers. How could I be a true liberal if I believed you were different depending on who your mother or father was?

Then I realized that Judaism wasn’t about equality and didn’t espouse the true liberal ideals that I sought. I even looked at my fellow liberal Jews in disgust — the ones who were trying to change the basic tenets of the religion in order to make it suit their liberal ideals. They weren’t even practicing real Judaism anymore in the name of liberalism, but they tried to hold on to certain things and in the end it seemed like a new religion to me. If I was going to practice Judaism I would do the real thing or nothing — no bioengineering or hybridization for me.

The Torah is not compatible with liberal ideals. Certain concepts thrown in are but in the end I wanted to be a real Jew. I can focus some of my energies on tikkun olam and social justice but in the end I had to face that I could never really be a Torah Jew and a liberal.

Have I mentioned? This entry is a fictionalization based on someone I know.

Share this:

We know they suck, but what can you do?

Share this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nTiPmKdIOGU

Here are the arguments…Tell Us Why or Why Not!

Share this:

The goyim succumb to taiva and are dangerous. They will befriend you and then turn on you. Non-Jews are evil and are only there to convert you. They will suck you in and then slowly convince you that Jesus is Lord. First you will be chatty in school, and then all of a sudden you are under the chupah and your bride isn’t Jewish.

This and more is what I heard during my yeshiva years. We were told how holy we Jews were and how evil and unworthy the goyim were. We were told that they hated us. Wait, I am still told that by plenty of people. Everyone hates the Jews, according to my old man — especially the liberal Jews. Either way, being friends with non-Jews never really entered my solar system.

Think about it. As an FFB, I went to yeshiva my entire life and the first time I ever had a non-business experience with a non-Jews was when my auto mechanic asked me to mow his lawn for him. Most of the folks I know who grew up orthodox have little to do with non-Jews in a non-professional manner. I didn’t go to school with them until I hit 18 and even when I tried to hang out with them, I could never fully relate. I don’t think it’s wrong to be friends with non-Jews like my Rabbis had tried to convince me, I just didn’t have any interest.

I received an email the other day from the same girl who wrote that Dear Heshy post from a week ago. She was pissed that other frummies were giving her looks for hanging out with non-Jews. I don’t understand why. She lives in NY, hasn’t she ever gotten the Boro Park Stare?

This got me thinking about the fact that throughout my entire life I have had maybe 3 good non-Jewish friends. In fact, only in the past 3 years have I even had non-frum Jewish friends (not including my friends who have chosen a non-frum lifestyle) Most of the folks I know who grew up orthodox don’t have any good non-Jewish friends. Sure we have those guys from work or school, but how often does it go beyond that?

I can fully understand why some folks might feel it wrong to be friends with non-Jews. Some of the core parts of Judaism are designed to keep us with our own kind. Keeping kosher is one of the basic tenets of Judaism and it is responsible for derailing all of my chances at being chummy with coworkers or classmates. Shabbos is another biggie. Not being able to go out on Friday night has made me look like an anti-social religious nut job to plenty of people, but I have never gone “out” on a Friday night, unless you count those evenings spent at Barnes and Nobles looking at bike magazines when I was a teenager.

I don’t look at non-Jews as evil. I guess I just stick with my own (although my own include people who converted to Judaism – reform, conservative and orthodox) out of comfort and Judaism being central to my existence. I look at it like any common group sticking together.

Share this:

A Jewish family moves to a new town. Wanting to put their son in the best school possible, they enroll him in a Catholic prep school down the street.

One day the child comes home from school and says, “Dad, today I learned something really amazing in school. There’s three Gods. The Father, Son and Holy Spirit.”

The angry Jewish father yells, “Don’t believe that lie son! We’re Jewish! There’s only ONE God, and we don’t believe in Him!”

I love this joke because it’s really true. 52% of Jews do not believe in G-d.

As a peddler of religion, I think a lot about this trend. Jews simply don’t believe in theism. This, and a lack of good spiritual engagement (which is different that religion, ritual, history and culture), is why we’re in a spiritual recession.

It was a conversation with an atheist friend of mine who turned me on to learning more about the growing Humanist Jewish community. Taking the mysticism out of Judaism and making it people-centered, this Judaism should be the biggest thing since sliced challah (pun intended).

My first stop was OurJewishCommunity.org. Founded by the rabbinical staff of Congregation Beth Adam (a humanistic synagogue in Ohio), OurJewishCommunity is doing a lot to engage non-theistic Jews in the Jewish tradition. My favorite part of the site is the streaming Shabbat videos, which I have watched many times over a glass of wine.

While over half of Jewish America does not believe in a Creator, humanist congregations are tiny compared to organizations like Chabad. I asked Rabbi Laura Baum of OurJewishCommunity.org and Beth Adam about this disconnect, and she replied:

“Some folks affiliate with the congregation or movement in which they grew up as a child – even if they no longer believe the core tenets. There are those for whom congregational affiliation is simply a matter of finding the most convenient congregation [geographically]… rather than making sure the…belief system of the congregation aligns with their own thinking.”

My next stop on my G-dless Jewish Adventure was a conversation with my mother. Discussing this issue, my Mom replied, “I dated a man who was a Jewish atheist when I was in my twenties. He didn’t believe in Judaism, but he was very strong in his Jewish identity.”

I found myself at the Southeast Limmud Festival (a weekend Jewish conference) living this issue. A woman was complaining about the lack of non-religious programming at the festival. She’s here to celebrate Judaism, but damn it, there better not be any religion involved! I joked with a friend, “it’s like signing up for a Christian fellowship retreat and complaining that there was too much Jesus and not enough Frisbee.”

That’s the way all my friends are. My circle of close friends is about 30% Jewish. And of those people, I only know a handful of Jews who have expressed overtly theistic feelings. The rest are culturally Jewish, but extremely proud of that and willing to give their blood for the cause of the Jewish People.

It didn’t completely hit me until I did a fundraiser for PunkTorah where we gave away copies of our Indie Yeshiva Pocket Siddur. The response from my friends was great! So many people donated to PunkTorah, but several replied, “oh, that’s OK…I don’t need a siddur. That’s not my thing.”

My head swarmed with questions. Can the Jewish people exist without the central figure of Judaism? Does Judaism need G-d, anyway? Maybe none of this ultimately matters.

I found my answer after going out on a date with a Jewish girl who was also non-spiritual. She told me that she does not believe in Judaism religiously, but has a deep connection to the ritual and community. She went on to talk about the Jewish summer camps she has worked at, the alternative spring break trips to poor countries, the tikkun olam projects she has been involved with and her leadership among Jewish youth. She had this glowing look in her eyes as she spoke so fondly about her work in the community.

And then it hit me. The Chasidim teach that there is a spark of the divine in everything. So maybe, there is a spark of the divine in atheism? And it inspired by own midrash:

“Once upon a time, G-d gave the Torah to Moses at Mount Sinai. All the G-d fearing people stood at the base of the mountain, trembling in awe as the cloud of G-d’s eternal Being covered the mountain top and thundered down with a mighty roar.

As Moses descended the mountain, he saw the Hebrews scurrying around their tents, discussing the awesomeness of G-d, their new responsibilities toward each other and the future of their tribe. And Moses was delighted.

But off in the distance Moses saw something strange. There were Hebrews who were not celebrating G-d. They were not talking about the new holy laws that were before them. They did not care about the thunder and smoke.

Moses got angry and approached this group. “How dare you not accept G-d’s law?”

One of the group stood up and said, “Moses, everyone was at the base of Sinai and left the sick, the hungry and the dead behind. We stayed here to care for them. We don’t know who or what G-d was, and we do not know what Torah is. But we do know that our people needed us, and we were there for them when no one else was.”

Moses smiled in relief and replied, “Thank G-d you were here with the people who needed you and not the G-d that wanted you.”

Share this:

By Leon Adato

(Originally posted at EdibleTorah)

When you are driving along and come to a red light, when do you start to apply the brakes? In other words, when do you start to stop.

We all know that going through a red light is not only illegal, it’s dangerous.But you can’t just zoom up to a red light at full speed and then slam the brakes. There are other variables to consider: whether there are cars ahead of you or people in the cross walk; how fast you are going; whether the road is dry or icy; etc. All of that (and more) will affect when you begin to apply the brakes.

I’m finding that observing mitzvot (commandments) is very similar.

Of course, people argue that the mitzvot are arbitrary, optional aspects of our life. That they are something we do for our own personal satisfaction. They may very well be right.

But even in that case, nothing changes about this discussion. If you aren’t going to stop at the red light, then don’t. Barrel right on through. There are even cases where people who would normally stop at a light will argue it’s not necessary:  At 2am in a one-horse town, when you know there is nobody else around, you may decide that the red light is nothing but a social expectation and that sitting there waiting for an electronic timer to click is a foolish and sycophantic adherence to the letter of the law without recognition of the spirit and intent.

BUT… regardless of your view of obligatory nature of the commandments, IF you are going to observe them, you still must consider how you are going to do so. You are going to have to decide when you are going to slow down so that you don’t cross “that line” – the identified demarkation between observing the mitzvah and breaking it.

Some drivers really do race right to the very edge of the curb (or the bumper ahead of them) and then hit the brakes, while others ride the break from a half mile back. Still, everyone’s intention is the same: Don’t run into the cross walk.

The commandments expressed in Torah for keeping kosher state:

don’t eat blood
eat only certain animals
don’t boil a kid (goat) in the milk of its mother
Period. No mention of 2 sets of dishes. No injunction against cheeseburgers. No statement that you have to double-foil-wrap your potato in an unkosher oven.

So why do we do it?

The red light(s) above are very clear. What isn’t clear is what we need to do to avoid crossing that line. Some people are comfortable running right to the edge – no blood, no bacon wrapped shrimp, no goat chops in goat-milk-cream sauce. Everything else is fair game. Other people feel the need for two dishwashers, to carefully check produce for bugs, to learn as much as they can about how and where their food is produced.

Neither approach, in my opinion, is necessarily bad. Like driving, everyone has their style.

Of course, this analogy can only go so far on a single tank of metaphorical gas. Traffic laws are enforced by humans, and ultimately affect others in a very direct way. Kashrut is not “enforced” by anyone – you don’t get a treif ticket if you chow down on a shrimp eggroll. Nor is there any impact on the people around us for our own dietary observances, or lack thereof. Traffic laws are meant to be more logical than not. Kashrut, as I have mentioned before, is understood to be inherently non-logical (which is not to say it’s illogical, only that human logic can’t be brought to bear to understand why we ought to keep kosher. This is one of God’s “do it ’cause I said so” rules).

But in answer to the person who looks at another’s kashrut observance and thinks “why would they need to take it that far?!”, my answer is

“Because that’s where they are comfortable starting to stop.”

Share this:

Produced by Joshua A. Kaplan

“What is the purpose of the covenant? Many fragmentary answers have been given in the tri-millennial & variegated history of Judaism, and perhaps only this much of a generalization is possible – that, located between Creation & Redemption, a Jew testifies to the reality of the first and the hope for the second. This testimony has a positive and a negative aspect. The positive is the possibility, unheard of prior to the advent of Judaism, of a mutual relation between G-d beyond the heaven of heavens and man on earth. The negative is against all the false gods – against idolatry.”

-Emil Fackenheim (1916-     ), [What is Judaism? New York: Simon and Schuster, Inc., 1987]

Most have forgotten that the Torah is a Walk with HaShem and not a religion. We have forgotten that the Torah requires us to walk and behave within and according to His commandments, statutes, decrees, and ordinances at all times. It tells us that these are eternally binding even to a thousand generations, and to discuss them with our children – when we walk on the way, when we sit down, when we retire and when we arise, and to live it out at the market and at the workplace. The Torah tells us, “And you shall love your brother as yourself.” (Lev. 18:19), it screams to us, “You shall surely pursue righteousness!” (Deut. 16:20) – yet we hate our brothers and pursue honor and filthy, unrighteous lucre. Thus, the hand of faith has been weakened. Most of the Nation has left the camp of the believers, for not many remain faithful; there are virtually no men of truth. Very little light that illuminates in this world of dark corruption.
Even so, that is exactly what the Torah is. It is a light to a dark world, as are those whom bear it’s truth. It’s purpose is to free mankind, and lead all toward total spiritual/physical perfection. Furthermore, it is HaShem’s covenant, made for all of humanity, which even rules and regulates the natural laws of the infinite and boundless Universe. Which means that the Torah is infinite, transparent to our soul [neshama], and is transcendently beyond the finite grasp of man. A very discerning & insightful man (Rabbi Marc Howard Wilson) once shared with me, these words of wisdom:
The finite may try to grasp the Infinite, though it is like taking a sip from a “Raging-Firehose”
Therefore, only the ALL-Transcendent One can give it’s true interpretation. Moreover, one must also keep in mind; as the covenant is eternal so is knowledge, wisdom, understanding, revelation, truth, and onward. These gifts [obtainable by man, only from G-d], as others like them, go on and on ad infinitum.
All are progressive. No one is absolute or exclusive.
Rather, all are one and all emanate from our One and Only who is magnanimous in all His deeds, and gives freely to all who would humbly beseech Him with a sincere heart. He is His Knowledge, He is His Wisdom, He is His Understanding, and He is His Truth [He is His “Light”]!!! Nevertheless, the questions remain. How does one successfully walk with The Most High? By what means can one who is finite receive true interpretation from The Infinite?
Is it merely enough to involve ourselves in study and absorption in prayer? How will we know and recognize when He has answered our cry, our petition, or request?

Share this:

A while back, sick of having Bibles shaken in my face and being turned down for dates because of something about an ox and a yoke, I sought refuge in a tiny Reform synagogue here in Florence. About ten regular members make up the congregation (though during the High Holidays, attendance swelled to a whopping 50-ish!), and we have a lovely cantoress that comes in from Nashville every other Friday. I really love my synagogue; it’s one of the few things I’ll miss about Alabama when I move…

… to New York City. Next month. I recently took a trip there for the first time (feel free to laugh).
I had heard about how different Jewish culture is there compared to here, and, of course, all the “Jew York City” jokes. They were right – I was on cloud nine as I drove through Crown Heights and saw my people. The only other time I ever felt that sense of ‘I’m not alone’ was when I drove past a huge synagogue in downtown Nashville. My mother, feeling renewed by her divorce from my father, has begun to rediscover her heritage for herself, a thought that fills me with joy. But I’m also nervous. I worry I won’t be religious or knowledgeable enough to keep up with the Jewish culture in NYC. But I remember that though it’s tempting, I don’t have to “fit in” to Jewish culture in NYC. I’ve kind of got a knack for standing out.

Share this:

In 1794 Thomas Paine wrote about Deism through his novel “The Age of Reason”. Unlike any author before him, he had scrutinized the Calvinist church and set a precedence that challenging aristocratic society and those who took to a corrupt religious social structure. This innate though that life is essentially born from good, and not the “infant damnation” that the Calvinists took to, was not so insightful as the Jewish faith had been in this thought for centuries.

As the thought manifests its way into another movement, it translates into the Unitarian Church, which believes that all the laws of G-d are understood innately through our conscience. Well, duh! Again, the Jews have long before used proof that gut feelings and human understanding of the laws could be adhered to. I mean, study a little Talmud or Gemara eh? Again, I am perplexed…

Due to the nature of my job, I slowly move into the Transcendentalist movement. The “Oversoul” being the euphoric sense of nature and that G-d is present in nature as well. Then, I think of Tu Beshvat and the celebration of the trees and land. I can’t help but want to turn to my students and be like, “Hey, your religions are evolving into what mine already is!” It’s so frustrating to be on the page everyone is moving towards, but they have no concept of my religion’s underlining themes and ideology.

Teaching in a public school is easy, rewarding, and above all the best decision I have made for myself. However, I have to say, sometimes things are a challenge. It seems that my biggest one, in terms of curriculum, is that I want to offer the students a bit more emmis (truth) then what they are getting. I know, separation of church and state. Yet why is it okay that winter break always lands on Christmas?

Stay true to the streets!

Yentapunker

Share this:

Hello, my name is Lucas, and I’m a queer Jew.

I spent a ton of time struggling with my spiritual identity because I was struggling with my personal identity, growing up in the punk scene was awesome, but there was an overabundance of machismo and a severe lack of respect for anyone who was a pussy, or believed in G-d, or worse… both. The thing is, I didn’t give a shit about religion during my teen years. I called myself “spiritual”, but that’s as far as it went. Sure, I’d blown shofar, braided challah and lived through a ton of hippy Passover meals involving sage smudging (long story), but I didn’t feel as if I had a specific spiritual or religious identity. I didn’t feel Jewish, and that’s about all I knew.

I mean I knew I liked plenty of stuff. I knew I liked cheap beer, hanging out with my friends, going to see bands play, zines, and sleeping past noon. And as much as I fit in with my friends, I was always the odd man out. I was the only gay person I knew, and I didn’t fit the stereotype of a “gay man”, so it was hard to accept myself as such. Punk was the only personal identifier I had in my arsenal and it fit well enough for a while. The word felt safe and all encompassing to me, I clung to it and used it to distract everyone away from the fact that I liked dudes.

I wouldn’t talk about it with most of my friends. A few select people knew, but I was very secretive about it. My punk identity was raucous and aggressive, with an attitude as bad as my teen acne. It was easy for me to hide and even easier to tell myself that who I dated wasn’t anyone’s business, but really that was just an easy way for me to say, “I’m scared that if you knew, you’d treat me differently.” I didn’t want people to make snap judgments on who I was or what my personality characteristics were based on my sexual identity.

I seem to lack all of the positive traits from the gay stereotype, I’m unkempt and can’t dress myself, and that only helps me fly under the radar, like the gayest stealth jet ever. To this day, when a Rabbi asks me if I have a girlfriend I freeze in terror, merely mouthing the words “Nope, no… girlfriend”. In my head reciting my mantra, “No no, I lay with men in a totally different way then I’d lay with women, I swear”. (Trust me on that one)

It wasn’t until I was about 22 that I started talking to my friends about it, and then it wasn’t until I was 25 years old that I finally admitted to my family that I was “gay”. They took it as well as anyone would who had just been ambushed, and somehow I had ambushed myself as well. I felt raw and powerless. So I did what any good punk does, I packed my backpack, and got on the next plane to Europe.

While in Amsterdam I found myself at a “Queer Punk” music fest. I looked around and saw all these people with tattoos, fucked up haircuts, and the same poor hygiene I recalled from my teen punk days. I saw people wearing band t-shirts I recognized, an overwhelming sea of crusty black clothing, and instantly I felt at home. This was who I was, and they had experienced what I had experienced. They were punks too, punks who also didn’t fit the category of “gay”. In protest they called themselves “queer”, and really, what’s more punk than a protest? Seriously.

By the time I had come home I felt like I had allowed myself to really start learning who I was but the more I learned about myself, the more I noticed this emptiness. Gradually as I got more comfortable within my own skin, I was getting pretty good at translating what my body/brain was trying to tell me. And all I was hearing was “dude, go to synagogue”, and who am I to question a handsome young gentleman. So I went. And suddenly there it was, a connection overwhelmingly and completely undeniable. My Jewish identity had somehow remained frozen, in stasis, but every Shabbat the defrost button was pressed and I quickly fell back into studying and reading and strengthening my connection. Weekly minyan, Shabbatlucks, young Jew groups… it all started to come together for me.

Jews I’ve met, queer or otherwise, wonder how I can go to Shul, pray, wear kippah and identify as a queer person and a Jew at the same time. They ask how I can have an honest connection to Hashem, or just how I can be religious at all. I don’t flinch; I never had that knee-jerk agnostic reaction that a lot of people in my generation seem to harbor towards faith or religion. And I had never felt something so strong, or so real as I did with my connection to Hashem and to Judaism. This connection I have, it tells me that Hashem is cool with me. He’s on my side and has got my back. That’s not the kind of shit you ignore, so I don’t, and I won’t. This is how I live and who I am, it’s not wool and linen, it’s queer and Jew.

I don’t care about the other shit anymore, I try my hardest not to care what other peoples opinions of me are, I don’t care that I am this crazy tattooed, homo in a yarmulke sitting by himself at Shul with a bunch of older people and families as my only Jewish community, because even if I am there by myself, I feel so tuned in. I have found myself, and although it might not have been a smooth journey, at least it was an honest one, with only nominal amounts of self-deprecation.

When I finally admitted to myself that I was queer it opened up a lot of doors for me. Being honest with myself and about myself was really fucking scary because I wasn’t used to feeling so exposed. I strongly believe that my faith and connection to Judaism really grounded me. And now I’m totally comfortable in the fact that I’m what your mother would call “a nice Jewish boy”, even if I listen to my records too loud, have too many tattoos, cuss like it’s going out of style, and well… date dudes. It’s the struggle G-d wants, not perfection.

Share this:

There are plenty of rabbis and Jewish mothers that would cringe and make “Oy vey” commentary, but how could one resist to blog about the truth? The truth of the matter is that I was schlept to Thunder from Down Under in Vegas last week for a bachelorette party. Now, lets paint the full picture for you:

In line were women of every size imaginable, Hashem created or store bought. My favorite had to be the grandma with the walker and the oxygen tank. I knew there was something terribly lucid about this woman when she was trying to move faster as she realized the better seats were taken. The only thing I could think of was how unsanitary the thoughts and words of these women were. A newly 18 year old girl with piercings and a Rastafarian hat stood behind me with her mother. He mother expressed joy and stated this was not her first show. Of course when I asked where they were from they responded with Reno. Of COURSE you are! How silly am I? I couldn’t believe a girl would want to see something so sexual with her mother. I realized my mom would have been okay to come with me, but I would have been adamantly against such things.

I was amazed… See we learn a few things when being in multiple Jewish communities. In the more observant sects of Judaism, we understand that men’s thoughts and motives can be changed by sights and introductions to avayrot (sins for a lack of better translation). Men are visual creatures that do not operate solely on visions, but do get caught up in them. Women are not as instructed to be mindful. Women are taught to be coy and realize they are vulnerable creatures that are moved by emotional connections. In the reform household my mother raised me in, I was taught that women are sexual creatures that need and desire both types of love, physical and emotional… both before marriage.

One shabbos in Los Angeles there was a rabbi who mentioned a poem called To My Coy Mistress. The premise of the poem was that a man wanted to have sex with a woman he just met. She clearly wanted to be courted, but the man was very carpe diem about his libido and basically states “Baby, I don’t have all night”. I found this to be the VERY feeling of the show. These Australians were going to show their “underoos” as soon as possible, before one of these women popped an artery because “baby, these ladies don’t have all night!” So the show begins!

At first I was sure all these men were Jewish. The dancing was horrible and the choreography looked like something out of Fiddler on the Roof. (I am so sorry Grandma!) As it continued and the pants came off, I realized that this was the most unkosher venue I have ever attended. Now, don’t get me wrong, people are entitled. However, I was more than surprised as to see women of all ages touch the tushies of men they don’t know, or worse, the man’s unit! I was absolutely dumbfounded when a mother-in-law of the bride to be (not my bride thank goodness) was tossed on stage and made out with and fondled. The man pinched her nipples as she touched him in places that are making this YentaPunker blush like it’s going out of style. No one should ever see a 60 year old gray haired Bubie on stage!

I was really surprised when we left. I felt like I needed some mikvah action. Like something needed to be washed away quickly! My eyes had been scared! Then it dawned on me. I used to ask why the heck someone who was in the orthodox world wouldn’t see a porn or maybe even just watch TV. That the beaches could be difficult if you’re teaching your child to be snius (modest) and clubbing could be wicked. Then I realized what I had just left was 1 call short of a donkey show. It took watching an old lady being happily molested on stage for me to realize that I might have been desensitized by my experiences in the world. Now, I am not saying that I agree with completely shutting experiences out due to fear or emotional trauma, but I do see why one would limit their experiences.

I feel like my punk rock–ness went down a little in Vegas. Like me being Jewish let me be a little less “hardcore”. That somehow To My Coy Mistress only served a purpose for double mitzvas on shabbos when the kids go to sleep. That knowing someone might actually be better than paying to see something you cant have. Later realizing, that someone cannot even respect what they could have with a significant other. That love and lust can be mutual or mutually exclusive. It made me question what these women might be missing from their husbands or boyfriends. It made me wonder how many of these women connect to Hashem on a level that’s so meaningful, that cheap penis cannot compare.

Ultimately, I learned that my Judaism follows me from shul, home, and to the depths of the Las Vegas strip and that even when I think I might have a moment to break free from what might bind me, I’m still bound. I think I have seen enough “thunder” for one lifetime. It’s not to say that women shouldn’t enjoy breaking lose, but above all I will NEVER say that men are worse than women after what I have experienced. And as I drove home from Vegas, the idea that someone needed to take off their clothing for money only made me sad inside.

As always, be true to the streets (and yourselves)

YentaPunker

Share this:

I was so happy: a doctor who cares about his patients and doesn’t worry about seeing proof of insurance first.

Unfortunately, the medicine did not work, and I had to go back to the doctor. And this time, things were different. Really different.

The insurance company never sent my paperwork to the doctor, or so my paper file said. The receptionist at the doctor’s office said that they would not treat me if I did not show my insurance card or was willing to pay out of pocket. I refused and asked them to get the insurance company on the phone and sort it out while I wait. They wouldn’t. It was on me to solve this problem, even though I felt like I was going to die.

So I left. Not knowing what to do, I went to the Walgreens down the street and hoped into the Take Care Clinic, a sort of “nurse in a box” operation that does minor medical treatment.

This experience was amazing. Instead of dealing with a receptionist, I simply input my info on a touch screen. After five minutes of waiting, a nurse came out, greeted me by name, and brought me into the room. She asked what my insurance situation was, and I told her the story about my screwball doctor.

She replied, “Oh, this is no problem. I have my computer here. Let’s go on the insurance company website and get all your info.”

Within minutes, she was on the company’s website, printing my card! No haggling, no nagging. After the exam, she put in all my info into her computer, printed my prescription, and  said, “OK, your prescription will be filled in about ten minutes.”

This was the best health care I had ever gotten. And the best part: it was so cheap that my insurance company paid for the entire visit. No co-pay.

A few nights later, I got a phone call from a random number. To my surprise, it was the nurse from Walgreens. “Hey Patrick, just wanted to call and see how you are feeling.” In the twenty years my family has been with my old doctor, I never once got a phone call follow up. I was impressed.

I began to think about this in a Jewish context. In a lot of ways, negative experiences with Judaism are like negative experience with doctors. Doctors, like rabbis, are perceived to have the easy life. Nice car, nice house, and a lot of authority to back it all up. Doctors and rabbis have support staff that seem to make everything possible. And if you have a bad experience with a doctor or rabbi, it’s probably your fault in some way, since we assume that either of these professions can do no harm.

And both Judaism and medical care cost a lot. While there’s no such thing as “Jewish insurance”, there is certainly a price to pay for all the kosher food, challah, Jewish daycare, tzedakah, synagogue membership, adult education classes, and other events. And just like the insurance companies and doctor’s staff, there is a bureaucracy in Judaism that keeps some people out, whether it’s the convert getting turned away, the LGBT couple who feels unwelcome, or the Jew of color who doesn’t care about labels like Ashkenazic/Sephardic.

A lot of people want a “top down” solution to the health care dilemma. So is the same with Judaism: looking for a “movement” to unite us all.

Perhaps the solution is neither of these. Perhaps it’s simply a change of mindset. And I can think of a few possible ways.

Less Emphasis on Rabbis. My “doctor” at the clinic was not a doctor at all. But I didn’t care. I needed someone who could tend to my immediate needs, not someone who knew brain surgery. It takes just as long to become a rabbi as a medical doctor. I don’t know about you, but when I need a shoulder to cry on during a funeral or someone to celebrate Shabbat with, I really don’t care what my rabbi thinks about European Jewish Settlements From 1910-1925 or Modern Hebrew Grammer.

Think of the Obvious. A clinic in a pharmacy is a no-brainer. There’s medicine, there’s sick people, get a doctor in there and you’re all set! Sometimes, the most obvious answers are the ones that don’t completely reinvent the wheel: they just put two-and-two together. The best I have seen of this, Jewishly, was an independent minyan that had a lay leader, who happened to live in a local retirement community. Every Shabbat, he picked up other Jewish folks from his community and drove them to “shul”. The retirement home had a great lobby, and he would use it to tutor B’nai Mitzvah kids.

Think Like A Business. I’m the CEO of PunkTorah, so I’m a non-profit guy. But I can see where the profit motive could do great things for the Jewish tradition. Example: Sarah’s Matzah. This Matzah company modeled themselves after Tom’s Shoes, selling “designer” matzah. For every box they sell, they give a box away to a community food bank. It’s capitalism, it’s socialism, it’s Judaism. And it works.

A Little Less Talk, A Little More Action. The talking heads online, on TV and in places of power love to wax poetic about how to “fix” healthcare in this country. And all streams of Judaism are neurotically obsessed with making Judaism relevant for the “new” generation. Perhaps this is a good bottom line: a little less talk, a little more action. PunkTorah started with a YouTube page and is now a non-profit organization with two full time staff members.

What can you start?

Share this:

I think the classroom has led to many misconceptions about what is appropriate in the realm of religious tolerance. In school, Hitler jokes and Holocaust jokes are not permitted, but it’s okay to dye Easter eggs. Clearly I see a difference, but the concept between hateful speech and ignorance is still a blurred line. What message are we sending? What does the Jewish kid do?

As we get older, we experience this naïve perspective, when a college roommate or an acquaintance makes a poor decision to express how okay one of these taboos is in a Jewish kid’s public school experience. We get Christmas and Easter cards and have holidays off because the government gives us those days, but we have to take off Yom Kippur and Rosh Hashanah. I’ll work Christmas and Easter! What do I care?

Ultimately, with all this kvetching, I know I want better for my children (if I ever have any), or at least yours. I think we as a culture need to express that not everyone values the same holidays. It’s true we have many things that are flawed about our society, cultural awareness being one of them. I have not figured out how to solve the problem yet, but I am sure I can identify the scenario as it unfolded.

So for Jewish kid that sat upon Santa’s lap, but he never came…. For any Jewish kid who learned Christmas songs… For every Jewish kid who had to take a test in college on a Jewish holiday… For every kid who’s school took picture day on Yom Kippur….Remember, we can make a movement for cultural awareness, but we cannot be silent. One small stand at a time might make it easier for someone else.

Keep kickin’ it old shul and be true to the streets!

Yentapunker

Share this:

Why do Jews love to argue, and why does each of us take multiple perspectives on every issue?

Debaters (lawyers and politicians, when it comes to arguments, can be categorized as debaters) take up a position and argue that position, attempting to prove their singular point. He takes a stance.

A Jew, on the other hand, is not a debater. He is a thinker. I don’t need to cite from the liturgy to say this. I know this from my own experience in the Jewish community. We do not argue in order to make judgments, and though stubbornness is a quality many of us share, we embrace multiple perspectives. Hillel never called Shamai stupid or uneducated, because though they argued, they did not argue solely to prove a point.

Hillel taught that “one who does not study deserves to die” (Pirkei Avot 1:13). It is my contention that we study not to learn facts, to amass knowledge, or to be indoctrinated with Jewish values. The greatest rabbis, or Jews in general, were the thinkers: those who asked questions of the Torah, of the world, of their peers, and of themselves. They took up perspectives and did not isolate themselves in the cell of a singular ideology.

The next time you have an argument, watch what you say. Are you trying to prove something, or are you embracing the act of the thought process itself? Post your thoughts in the comment section below!

(This post is from our friend Daniel Lewis, a High School Senior out of Northern Cali. Thanks Daniel!)

Share this: