B"H

Planting, Seders and Psalms: Practices for Shevat

Tree of Life Concept by Ketzirah

When most people think of Shevat, they think of Tu b’Shevat, the “new year” of the trees.  Tu b’Shevat is one of the four new years in the Jewish religion.  What began thousands of years ago as a tax day on fruit trees, has grown into the Jewish arbor day and/or a spiritual opportunity to explore new growth and our connection to the environment.  Like so many of our holidays there are so many layers, so Tu b’Shevat can offer an amazing array of in-roads to exploring Jewish practice.

Tree Planting
It’s no wonder that Jews love Tu b’Shevat, after all we call the Torah the “tree of life.”  In ancient Israel we even planted trees when children were born to commemorate their birth and then these trees were used as the chuppah poles at their weddings. That’s just one of many amazing tree-based traditions in Judaism! If you want to plant a tree for Tu b’Shevat, there are lots of organizations that you can donate to that will help you with that, since it’s a lousy time of year to actually plant trees in most parts of the world. If this is what you are looking for, then check out Casey Trees and Jewish National Fund. I’m sure there are tons of other great organizations, and I hope you’ll share your favorite in the comments.

Seders
By now most people have heard of a Tu b’Shevat seder, even if they’ve never been to one.  So where do you start?  Thankfully, there are many free, and really good, Tu b’Shevat seders available online.  Here are few of my favorites to explore:

If you are a more DIY kind of person, check out this Tu B’Shevat Seder Outline, from Kolel.  It gives you a bit of a mix and match set up that allows you to easily create your own Tu B’Shevat seder.

Editors Note: we will also be having a Tu B’Shevat class on Monday, February 6th at 7PM EST at OneShul.org as well as an online Tu B’Shevat seder on Tuesday at 7PM EST.

Psalms
I learned about the tradition of reciting the fifteen “Psalms of Ascent” (120-134) during the first fifteen days of Shevat from my teacher, RK’Jill Hammer.  She has taken this practice further by associating a specific type of tree with each psalm.  Since the psalms have become a big part of my daily spiritual practices right now, I’m very excited to explore this concept this year.

You could even create prayer trees by writing or printing out pieces of the psalms of ascent and tying them to trees in your yard.  Imagine if you write the psalms on pieces of ribbon or fabric, how pretty the tree would look!  You could leave the fabric up just during Shevat, or if you use unbleached cotton or muslin, you could even just leave it to disintegrate naturally over time.

Final thought…

Whatever you do, take some time to appreciate Judaism’s long and complicated history with trees.  You might even want to take time to reflect on your own relationship with trees and nature.  No matter where you live, take some time to appreciate these amazing partners in life.  Without trees, we couldn’t breath, have paper, firewood, and a million other things!

———–

Ketzirah is a Kohenet, Celebrant, and Artist.  She works with individuals and groups to explore, discover, and create meaningful rituals and ritual artwork to mark moments in life.

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Of Prayers and Potholders


Courtesy of ufoadministration.blogspot.com

Most weekday mornings I hang out with a great bunch of guys. They are down to earth, come-as-you-are, non-judgemental and yet also passionate about and committed to their Judaism. They appreciate differences. They accept people for where they are in the Jewish spectrum.

They also pray like a heavy machinery auctioneer hopped up on a combination of Jolt Cola and 4 shots of triple-espresso.

By contrast (at least at this stage of my Jewish growth), my prayer is thoughtful and heartfelt. It is also halting, clumsy and slow.

Praying with these guys is an exercise in creative editing. I’ve learned that there are parts of the service I can skip. I’ve been told I can meditate on the theme of each bracha with intense kavannah, sending the avodah (work) of my heart heavenward like the sacrifices of old. And of course God speaks English, so I shouldn’t feel ashamed to do so as well.

Are you buying any of this? Cause I’m not. In real life, those sincerely-offered instructions equate to some prayers only half-said (because I have to jump ahead lest I become irrevocably lost), some prayed in jarringly-out-of-sync English, and moments when my “mediating on the theme” leaves me feel disconnected from the group, from myself and from God.

When you are surrounded by people all praying with confidence, fluency and familiarity – in Hebrew – it’s very very (did I mention “VERY”?) frustrating to be doing anything but.

I confided this to a Rabbi recently. “God knows what’s in your heart,” came the answer. “and no matter how insufficient you feel it is, you have to believe that it is cherished for what it is, coming from the person you are today.”

His words were less than comforting. I feel – quite acutely at times – that I am standing before my Creator, pouring out the best I have to offer, and it is an incomprehensible babble of half-uttered thoughts and disconnected ideas. I feel that God has asked for the intricate tapestry of my prayers, and I’ve shown up with a potholder.

I get it. I honestly do. My kids all made potholders at various grades in school (it must be part of the art curriculum). Each one is uniquely cute, funny and adorable. They were given with great ceremony and enthusiasm. They are cherished.

They are also useless, even as potholders. They are knotted, uneven, garish and full of holes. Very much, I fear, like my prayers.

My wife likes to knit. She makes intricate, useful and extremely gorgeous things. We’re talking people-on-the-street-offer-$200-for-the-sweater-off-my-back kind of gorgeous. I want my prayers to be like that.

I know that prayer – like life – is a process. It’s not a single product nor is it a race or a contest. I know that I’ll look back in a month or even just a week and realize that I have, in fact, improved. In my less whiny moments I recognize that it’s happened already, and (God willing) will continue.

I also have had chances to glimpse the journey of others, and take comfort in the knowledge that they weren’t simply born with a talent I lacked. Like me, they started learning on a particular day in their life, and that learning continued.

The other day, as we continued the (seemingly endless) work of unpacking ourselves into the new house, my wife pulled out a ratty, pinkish, mis-shapen square.

“It’s a potholder.” she explained. “I made it the day Grandma Hetti taught how me to knit.”

There may be hope for me yet.

Originally posted on The Edible Torah

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When You Have Nobody to Pray For

At some point during the Shabbat service there comes a moment when the leader stops and invites the congregation to speak the names of people in need of healing. The congregation, having heard those names, keeps those people in their thoughts as a prayer is spoken.

The prayer is the Mi Sheberach. It is based on a tersely worded entreaty to God by Moses himself – the shortest supplication recorded in Torah: “El na refa na la” (Please God, heal her now!”). It appears in Parsha Beha’alotcha, which we’ll read this comming Shabbat.

There is, of course, something every exposing about the whole process. I know people who would be horrified to know that they had been “outed” in this way.

I don’t believe the tradition developed as a way to satisfy the voyeuristic impulse. I believe that the mi sheberach is a communal experience. We say the names out loud and in the public of our chosen community so that everyone can know when someone needs support without the need for the suffer-er to ask people directly, or to have someone ask on their behalf.

This week, I realized that having this moment during the service accomplishes another important task: it’s a good indicator of how self-absorbed you are.

There are plenty of good reasons not to speak someone’s name: you know someone else is in the congregation is going to do it, you don’t know their Hebrew name and your congregation prefers it, etc. But even so, you have have a name in mind. Your intention is clear.

This week – as most weeks – I sat silently as those around me spoke the names of those they knew who needed healing. I marveled at the 3 people who each held a list of a dozen (or more) names to recite. And that’s when it struck me:

If you have nobody in your life who needs healing on some level; nobody in such a condition – whom you know well enough to want to say their name out loud in the congregation – then there are really only two explanations:

  • Either you are remarkably blessed to be surrounded by incredibly healthy people…
  • Or you are so wrapped up in your own life that you aren’t paying attention to those around you. You aren’t part of your community at all.

So… which is it, and what are you going to do about it?

Originally posted at EdibleTorah:

http://www.edibletorah.com/2011/06/10/when-you-have-nobody-to-pray-for/

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PunkTorah Is Not Virtual Judaism

When the Reconstructionist Rabbinical College tweeted how they love “virtual prayer community” in response to an upcoming OneShul event, I was very pleased. It’s always nice to get praise. And having had several conversations with administrators at RRC and various parts of the Reconstructionist movement, I know them to be very genuine people*.

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.

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The Shema is the central prayer in Judaism

The Shema is the central prayer in Judaism. Interesting, because it doesn’t really say much. While Christians (of certain stripes) have the ____ Creed, a point-by-point theological statement, us Jewish folks don’t seem to have as much to work with.

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?

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PunkTorah Radio: Alternative Judaism

Shalom chaverim!

This week we talk about mainstream movements vs. alternative Judaism (do we really wanna go to their party?), and Michael has the first (of many) conversations with our good friend Ketzirah from Peeling A Pomegranate. Check it out!

PunkTorah Radio: Alternative Judaism

Also, click here to subscribe on iTunes!

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PunkTorah Radio: Living A Jewish Life Online

This week we discuss whether it is possible to live a Jewish life online. You probably already know our answer, but there’s more! And, Werewolf Bar Mitzvah! Aaah-ooooooooooooooh!

PunkTorah Radio: Living A Jewish Life Online

Subscribe on iTunes!

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Hanukkah in 62 Seconds

Join us at OneShul on Dec. 1st at 7pm EST, as we light the menorah, tell stories and nosh! Hang out with your friends online for the holidays!

Join us at OneShul on Dec. 1st at 7pm EST, as we light the menorah, tell stories and nosh! Hang out with your friends online for the holidays!

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Riding Uphill, part II

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.

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In Defense of the Online Minyan

(By Michael Sabani)
michael@punktorah.org


So.

We’ve gotten some flack from those who call themselves “more observant” wanting to know, quite frankly, “what the heck is an online minyan?” and “how can you justify it?” On the other hand, we’ve gotten messages from people who are scared. They need there to be barriers and some sort of mystical, pseudo-Talmudic, Torah based objection so they won’t be challenged!

Well, if you want to know how we can “defend” getting a bunch of people to pray together online, this is how:

We can see the advancements of the internet and the ability to stream a service live as a benefit of these modern times. This use of technology isn’t really as big an innovation as you’d think. In fact, “the gemara in Sukkah 51b relates that the synagogue of Alexandria, Egypt was so large that they had to wave flags so that the people in the back knew when to answer ‘amen’” (Friedman). How about that! The online service is essentially the same thing; we are sending out “electronic flags” to all those participating.

According to Rav Soloveitchik, “even if one is in another room, he may still have the advantage of tefillah betzibbur, just as he may respond to devarim shebekedushah” (Mipninei HaRav [2001], p.41). So we are told that even those in another room may participate in a service and be included, while being in a different room from the leader of the service.

The Rambam tells us, in the Mishneh Torah (Tefillah viii) that if a minyan is distributed between 2 adjoining rooms and the shaliach tzibbur is standing in a doorway between the two, or even within earshot of both rooms, all involved can be counted for the minyan. So, in the 21st century, the live, streaming video really is the doorway into the rooms of the participants. As long as everyone can hear the leader and participate, there really is no reason why all who are watching and participating can’t be counted.

In summary, Rav Friedman says that “all stimuli that are not from a natural origin, are not in their natural form, or do not originate from a natural process are invalid for the fulfillment of almost any halakhic obligation.” So it seems that if the prayer leaders are actively, naturally speaking and leading, the service would be valid.

But more importantly, Friedman says that essentially each mitzvah needs to be examined on it’s own merit.

Right on.

So guess what? You can support the conception and implementation of an online minyan utilizing traditional Talmudic sources.

And to that we say: Big deal.

Look, it’s great that we can come up with Talmudic sources to support he fact that we are trying to get more people to pray and connect with G-d. That is an important part of the tradition, being able to say “This is what we’re doing and this is why we believe we are in the right.” But the fact of the matter is, we live in a world where live, streaming services, Skype, and IMing are a reality. We live in the 21st century, and pretending it’s the 3rd, 10th, or 17th isn’t helping anybody. Getting people to come together and pray is.

If you think what we’re doing is wrong, or not halachically acceptable, fine! That’s your right! The Talmud is basically a bunch of rabbis arguing with each other, and in most cases there is no clear “Rabbi A is right, Rabbi B is wrong”.

So when I have to stand in front of my Creator (which I believe I will) and say that I encouraged people to pray together, to get to know one another, and to encourage each other in performing mitzvot, but it was wrong to do it online (!?) I will gladly accept my punishment. Better one person does a mitzvah out of my mistake than if none do, even though I live a righteous life.

Works Cited

Friedman, Mordechai. “HALAKHIC CHALLENGES OF ELECTRONIC REPRODUCTIONS.” Torah on the Web – Virtual Beit Midrash. Web. 28 Oct. 2010. <http://vbm-torah.org/archive/halak61/12virtual.htm>.

(Many thanks to my friend Alan Sufrin of Stereo Sinai for the excellent help and research!)

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