As a congregational Rabbi, I don't have that many opportunities each year to visit at another congregation's services. This year, after receiving an email from a friend who sings in the choir at Congregation Beit Simchat Torah - the LGBTQ congregation in New York City about their Pride Shabbat service, I found myself able to attend this year. And what a year to be in New York City on the Friday night of Pride weekend. To begin, the Shabbat service was quite wonderful. The music is always something special at CBST, with the wonderful Joyce Rosenzweig (who also teaches at HUC) as music director. The cantorial intern this past year was an incredible talent, Magda Fishman, who has just been invested as Cantor at the Jewish Theological Seminary. Add to that the lovely, smart, funny, and passionate Cynthia Nixon, who was their Pride Speaker this year, and the Shabbat service itself was quite wonderfully crafted.
But of course, this year there was much more. CBST adds in psalms of Hallel for their Pride Shabbat, recognizing the annual festive nature of the weekend. This year the energy was one of anticipation and excitement that took the festivities to a whole new level. It had become clear, just as services were beginning, that a vote on marriage equality in New York would take place in the NY Senate in Albany that night. Toward the end of the service we'd received an update that the vote was likely to be approximately 30 minutes after the end of our service.
Outside the Stonewall Inn, waiting for the vote
And so, at its conclusion, many congregants gathered together to walk down to the Stonewall Inn. We joined about 1000 people gathering in the street outside the bar, arriving just 10 minutes or so before the vote was taken. Looking around, and speaking to the people around us, I was struck by the incredible diversity. Many LGBTQ-identified people, but also heterosexual friends and allies who were there to share the moment. And, the annual Drag Parade had finished just a short while earlier, so there was plenty of additional color and glamour added to the mix.
When the news came in, the crowd erupted in cheering and hugging and crying and laughing. The celebratory atmosphere was incredible. In the mix, the Jews who had walked down from CBST started dancing and singing 'Siman Tov u'mazel tov' and other Jewish wedding tunes. A couple of Latino gay men came over to us, taken by the joyful sound and said, 'this is so wonderful - I wish we could be your friends'. One of the CBST congregants took them by the hand and said, 'You are our friends' and they joined in the dance.
As one who wasn't even born at the time that the Stonewall Inn first came to fame in much darker times, it felt quite magical to be standing there at the moment that NY voted to give equal civil rights to homosexual couples. Instead of police with batons, the police around the perimeter were friendly and smiling. The feel-good on the streets and in the bars of Greenwich Village as people passed each other with smiles, cheers, and high-fives was a moment of feeling the community togetherness that can sometimes shine through in New York City.
The prophet, Isaiah (58:13) coined Shabbat as a time of oneg - pleasure, delight - a time to enjoy good food, to dress up, to enjoy each other's company, and to celebrate. Last night was surely a pure and holy expression of Oneg Shabbat and it is one I will never forget. Rabbi Rachel Gurevitz
As my erev Shavuot posting, I wanted to share with you something deep and meaningful, about the essence of our holy festival ... Cheesecake! (or, if you prefer, blintzes). Last week I was invited to offer my thoughts on any number of Shavuot-related questions for the Connecticut Jewish Ledger, and I chose to address the 'Why do we eat dairy?' question. I wanted to take advantage of the opportunity to add my own spin on this question, partly because I've never been satisfied with any of the more 'traditional' answers and, partly, because I believe its possible to make something meaningful out of each and every moment and, therefore, each and every Jewish food, cheesecake being no exception.
So, what does a more traditional take on this question look like? Check out the short video answer provided by the United Synagogue of Great Britain (Orthodox):
To read my take on the background to eating dairy on Shavuot, the Ledger link is here (Scroll down for my answer on eating dairy).
But the best answer I've read this year was the one I received from my father. Encouraged by what is clearly the Jewish tradition of having an endless number of answers to this vital question of Jewish practice, he decided to add a few more of his own. Enjoy!
Qu: Why do we eat cheesecake on Shavuot?
A: There are many answers, most , if not all, of them wrong. Perhaps the most credible answer, in the traditional Yiddish style, is "Why not?' Always answer a question with a question. This sharpens the mind and frays the nerves.
Another answer is that one day it was Shavuot and Rev Nachman was standing before his students wearing a white robe. With his pale skin he was barely identifiable against a pale background. One of his students was heard to remark: "Doesn't he look just like a bit of cheesecake" and this memory has been preserved ever since.
There is a lot more to Rev Nachman than a chair.
Another answer is that in olden times the harvest at Shavuot was celebrated by eating doughnuts. These doughnuts were the original kind, with a ring of dough sprinkled with sugar and a hole in the middle.Our sages and thymes tells us in an unconvincing, yet mystical, way that the ring represents all the Jews in the world and the hole ( which is not only in the middle but also occupies the surrounding space) is where God lives.
So no matter where you are, if you look, you will find God.
One day, around 1400 CE, a woman was buying doughnuts for Shavuot and said in a feigned middle-Eastern voice: "Ach, these fried doughnuts gives me heartburn; same with KFC. Haven't you anything else"
"How about a bit of cheesecake?" replied the baker. "Ok, I'll try a piece" said the lady.
And she never had heartburn again, dying peacefully the following day.
"A miracle" exclaimed the baker and Jews have been eating cheesecake on Shavuot ever since in the hope that they, too, might be delivered from heartburn.
Although this rarely happens, they have not stopped trying. Simon Gurevitz
(Not a Rabbi)
There's a lot of online chatter, blogging, tweeting, and more about Anthony Weiner's use of the social network to communicate with women via lewd photo. If you need an update on the full story, here's a piece in the NYTimes, and another on The Huffington Post.
So, I want to get my 2 cents in? Well, yes and no. I don't think I have much more to add to what has already been said about the unbecoming behavior, the lying, the damage to Weiner's family (and, particularly, his wife) and friendships, the analysis of his confession, etc. etc.
But I want to look at another aspect of the chatter online. Because expressing our disgust, our disappointment, and our judgment, while appropriate, is the easy part. Especially when it involves a public official or celebrity. The much harder part is to look at our own lives and ask ourselves some of the really tough questions that emerge from stories like these.
Unless you happen to hang with a particularly angelic crowd, how many of us can say that we don't know someone among our friends, our congregation, or community, who has done something deceptive or foolish in their lives? How many of us can look in the mirror without feeling embarrassment for a poor judgment of the past? Whether it was behavior while drunk or high, a lie that had consequences that we've never owned up to, an email that should never have been sent, a touch or a kiss that betrayed the trust between committed couples, a full-blown affair or a criminal act ... Weiner can be a painful reminder of our own faux pas, or remind us of the pain caused by a friend or family member who did something to cross the line.
I remember that, as a very young child, perhaps no more than 6 or 7, I had a teacher who supervised a sewing activity with my class each week. We had learned different stitch styles and were making a bookmark. One week, I made a mistake. I was so embarrassed by my mistake that, instead of going to the teacher for assistance, I tried to fix it myself and created a big knot in the middle of my fabric. Then I panicked. I thought she'd be furious with me if she saw the mess I'd made instead of getting help when the problem was still small. So I started to feign sickness right before her class, and my grade teacher would allow me take some time out in the fresh air and miss her class. After a couple of weeks of this, they caught on. When the confrontation finally occurred, the teacher was mortified that I'd been too afraid to ask for her assistance; with one snip of the scissors she removed my knot and helped me get back on track. We had a great relationship from that point on.
Ok, so its a pretty innocuous example, but I offer it more for symbolic value. What Weiner did was very human. He messed up. Yes, he should examine what created his desire to exhibit such behavior in the first place - that is different from my accidental stitching mistake. But what followed is where the commonality lies, and is not at all uncommon. Once we've messed up, we're embarrassed and ashamed. We're fearful of what people will think and say. We're fearful of the consequences. And so we do things in a vain attempt to try and control the situation. This usually involves a lie. Sometimes its a total cover-up lie (no, I didn't do that; my account must have been hacked), and sometimes its a lie disguised as a partial admission of a lesser crime to try and divert attention from anyone discovering the true depths of our deed. When it looks like we've got ourselves into an almighty knot, we try a different strategy, perhaps feigning illness - 'I wasn't in my right mind'; 'I was under a great deal of stress at the time', 'I hadn't gotten over the death of my father' ...
Only when we find ourselves cornered and out of options might we finally come clean and confess. And we tell people how truly sorry we are. And its not a false confession. It might look that way, because it looks like we've been lying and were hoping to get away with it. Would we have confessed if we hadn't been found out? Probably not. But the lack of confession until there was no other choice does not necessarily indicate lack of authenticity. We are ashamed, we are embarrassed, we hate ourselves for our poor judgment and the hurt we have caused to people we care about, the trust we have lost, and we are disgusted by our flaws and inadequacies that have caused so much harm. It was all those feelings and emotions that led us to try and cover things up in the first place - out of our desire to nullify the harm and make it all go away. Hindsight is 20/20, as they say; we did not have the foresight to consider how much worse we were making the knot by our avoidance.
What is true of ourselves also plays out in our dealings with others. When someone you love is guilty of an act of hurt, or poor judgment, how do you respond? When they show true remorse and want to do whatever they can to bring some healing to the situation, do you push them away or do you try to make a path for them to do teshuvah - return/repentance? There are no easy answers; sometimes we have to separate ourselves from an abusive or narcissist personality. Sometimes we need time to mourn what has been lost - love, trust, friendship - before we can forgive. But it is always worth taking a breath and a step back and asking ourselves if there is any room for compassion alongside our judgment of the sins of another.
Rabbis, as with all clergy, find ourselves engaging pastorally with people in every aspect of life's journey. We seek to help those who have been hurt by another to find peace and to heal, and we seek to listen and help those who have sinned to do the inner work of true repentance, taking responsibility, but also the ability to heal and to move on rather than to carry the weight of their error forever.
So, yes, Anthony Weiner has messed up and, yes, he has more work to do. But there's a spiritual lesson here, and its a lesson that requires deep contemplation ... for each and every one of us. Rabbi Rachel Gurevitz
June is Pride month. These days my attention is turned much more to highlighting and celebrating the diversity of all kinds within our Jewish communities. In the past, some of our Jewish communities have specifically addressed the inclusion of interfaith families and GLBTQ Jews in their midst. In recent months I've learned a great deal from my colleague and friend, Rabbi Ruth Abusch-Magder, Rabbi-in-Residence for Be'chol Lashon, that recognizing and responding to diversity goes far beyond these categories, to the inclusion of Jews of every ethnic background. Our worldwide Jewish community has always been diverse, but our US-based community is becoming increasingly more diverse from immigration, adoption, conversion and the coming together of more mixed-ethnicity couples in marriage. A new video from B'chol Lashon, featuring Y-love (below) shares this message:
But one of the important aspects of being a welcoming and inclusive community is not simply to acknowledge, welcome and celebrate the diversity that makes up our Jewish communities today. If we really care about inclusivity, we need to be responsive to the hurts, the needs, and the injustices that may be faced by one part of our community. For just as we cannot claim to be an economically diverse community that welcomes everyone to belong regardless of financial means if we do not make it possible in reality and do not see it is as our duty to provide additional support to our families in times of struggle, so we cannot claim to be truly inclusive and welcoming of any group if we are not responsive to their needs.
I recently heard a story of a Rabbi who had delivered a sermon on a Pride Shabbat that highlighted some of the injustices and inequalities still faced by loving same-sex couples because they cannot get married or their marriages are not federally-recognized. Couples who are still faced with crippling financial ramifications when one dies and their partner inherits; couples who cannot gain access to each other when one is in the emergency room, and cannot make decisions on behalf of an incapacitated partner; couples who struggle to find affordable health insurance that is available to them as a family unit. And the list goes on. While the overwhelming majority of the community responded with compassion, recognizing that the Reform movement has long stood behind civil rights equality for same-sex couples, and recognizing the holiness of being a community dedicated to that work, a small minority felt it inappropriate material for a Rabbinic sermon. But the wonderful 'It Gets Better' campaign this past year has helped us all understand that silence on the pain and inequalities facing GLBTQ people is more than just an omission of words; by making the individuals and the issues invisible in our communities we are failing in our duties to literally save the lives of some of our youth who don't know who to turn to and what wonderful possibilities might lie ahead. I spoke (and subsequently published in my blog here) about this specific issue some months back, and recently a colleague, Rabbi Andrea Myers, published an article on the Huffington Post entitled 'It Gets Beautiful', which I highly commend to you.
The seminary of the Union for Reform Judaism, Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion, created their own 'It Gets Better' video, providing inspiring leadership. More recently, the students at Yale Divinity School created a similar video project, reaching out to Christians who are looking for their spiritual home in a place that doesn't require them to leave a piece of their soul at the door. Both videos are below. Blessings for a Pride month filled with inspiration, affirmation, and action. Rabbi Rachel Gurevitz
This is Jewish History Month. As a High School student, History was always something that I loved to know and hated to learn. What I mean by that is that I was always fascinated by the unfolding of events and the significance that one thing could have on another. I always loved social and cultural history especially - the way that people used to live. But I've never been very good at remembering the facts. In fact, one of my repetitive stress dreams used to be that it was just a few days from a major High School history exam (A levels - the exams in the UK that determine where you will go for University) and I am faced with two extra-thick lever files of handwritten notes that I have to memorize that consist of endless lists of dates and European wars.
We are blessed to live in an age when engaging with our history, learning, exploring, and studying, is more accessible than it has ever been.
This past week I have been having fun learning a great deal of history, and helping to share the amazing resources of the Encyclopedia of the Jewish Women's Archives. The full archives are online but, in a wonderful, innovative project using technology at its best, a team consisting of anyone who chooses to participate have been tweeting individual entries of the encyclopedia this month. For those already using Twitter, just follow #jwapedia and you'll be able to tune in to the entries being shared, re-tweet them to share them with your followers, and explore the encyclopedia yourself to take part in this community educational project. If you don't use Twitter, keep reading! I want to make the case for why you might want to get into Twitter, but first, here's another great upcoming project to wet your appetite.
In the 24 hours leading up to Shavuot (which begins in the evening on June 6), many individuals are planning a mass Tweeting of verses and teachings from Torah. As with any topic that you want to follow on Twitter, you'll just be looking up #Torah. The goal is to Tweet Torah to the top of the things that people are sharing on Twitter, just as we prepare for the peak experience of Receiving Torah again at Sinai when we reach Shavuot. Its a great way to be reminded of the 'greatest hits' of Torah, and be introduced to lines, stories, characters, ethics and ideas that you might have never known were in Torah.
Here's my case for why Twitter is something that might be for you (and at the bottom of this post will be some instructions to help you get started if you are new to this medium).
There are a number of organizations and publications whose materials I like to read online. Some of them I receive via an email directly from them. Others are things that I have 'liked' on Facebook and so, when they post something new, it will appear on my Facebook wall. There are other great articles I am introduced to when Facebook friends post the links with words of encouragement about why others might want to read them too. But the other way that I get great information is through the links to news, blogs, articles and TV interview clips that individuals and organizations post on Twitter. It would be overwhelming for me to try and follow every single blog or publication that sometimes posts a particular piece that catches my attention. But by following them on Twitter, I can log on, skim through the brief headings and descriptions that have been posted in the past couple of hours within a couple of minutes, and perhaps find 3 or 4 online articles that I'd really like to read. Think of it as subscribing to a magazine where you are the Editor - you get to decide whose content you want to include. Of course, as the author of a blog and local newspaper articles, its also a way to distribute things that I write more widely, but you can still get a lot out of Twitter even if you just want to be reader.
When you first open up a Twitter account, you can search for potential individuals or organizations to follow by general topic, but the best way to go is to zero in on someone who shares similar interests to you and then look at who they are following (much in the same way that you build up Friends lists on Facebook). To make it even easier, many of us have created 'Lists' of categories of Tweeters. So, for example, if you follow me @RabbiGurevitz, you'll see that I have a list of Jewish organizations that I follow and Jewish professionals. I also have a list of interfaith resources. There are also several online resources that will tell you who some of the 'top tweeters' are in a particular field of interest, helping you to build your network of individuals and organizations that are of particular interest to you.
So, give it a go! See below for more info on how to get started. Join the Jewish Women's Archive #jwapedia project this month and learn about some fantastic Jewish Women who have done astonishing things. Follow #Torah in the first week of June and immerse yourself in our Holy text and heritage to help get into a Shavuot state of mind. And go and explore the great network of Jewish individuals and organizations who are sharing great ideas, great teaching, and great commentary on our community and world affairs on Twitter.
There are a number of good online tutorials for using Twitter. http://mashable.com/guidebook/twitter/ takes you through every aspect, step-by-step.
If 'seeing' it done via video is more helpful, then check out the video below:
This is a cross-posting of an article written by Rabbi Rachel Kahn-Troster at the blog of Rabbis for Human Rights - North America. Many pieces have been posted online today, reflecting on the news of the assassination of Osama Bin Laden. Rabbi Kahn-Troster's review of these messages, and her own reflections resonated most deeply with my own thoughts today. I highly recommend her article to you. Rabbi Rachel Gurevitz
Photo by by Zola via flickr.com. Creative Commons License.
I was checking my email late last night when I noticed a headline on the New York Times website: “President Obama to address the nation.” “They’ve caught Bin Laden,” I said to my husband. “There is nothing else urgent enough for an instant press conference on a Sunday night.” As I waited for the President’s speech, I realized I really didn’t know how I felt. Relief? Renewed sadness over 9/11? How are you supposed to feel when your enemy falls?
For me, as for many Americans, this is not a theoretical question. I was in New York on 9/11 and watched the Twin Towers get hit. Even though more than 10 years have passed, there is part of me that is still back on that day, under attack and scared. I’ve long viewed my work at RHR-NA fighting torture as my patriotic response to what I experienced. The best way to beat the terrorists was to uphold America values about freedom and the rule of law. I felt that the most fitting end for the search would Bin Laden would have involved a fair trial in an American court room, with the terrorist locked up for years and years. As the wrangling over Guantanamo intensified, it became clear that such an end for Bin Laden was unlikely. Rabbi Arthur Waskow described Sunday’s results, Bin Laden’s death in a firefight, as a “sad necessity.” But the scenes of unbridled celebration outside of the White House seemed at odds with the solemnity of the moment. I watched them and was deeply uncomfortable. For me, they transformed the moment into one of revenge. Maybe I am overreacting. Surely, those of us on the left tend to have a knee-jerk reaction to moments of patriotism. But I don’t think I am wrong. I cannot celebrate the death of another human being.
I’m not alone in my ambivalence. A quick survey of my friends shows that many of them are quoting the midrash about the death of the Egyptians at the Red Sea, when the angels are chastised for celebrating the death of God’s creatures. To actively celebrate over the death of another human being (sacred and created in God’s image) feels wrong, no matter how evil or how much they are our enemy. But others of my friends pressed that the celebration of the death of an individual enemy was different than rejoicing over the killing of innocents. The joy they felt was not one of revenge but of relief that evil had been overcome. As Rabbi Morris Allen posted on Facebook, he spills wine at seder for the suffering of the Egyptians during the plagues but not for the Pharaoh who caused their deaths. Osama Bin Laden was such a Pharaoh.
The President’s somber tone in his announcement should give us guidance for the national mood. It was not a time for rejoicing–the death of Bin Laden will not bring back the lives that were lost. It was our job as a nation not to pursue revenge but to seek justice. As activists, we translate tzedek as righteousness when we said “tzedek tzedek tirdof” and seek a more equitable world. But today we are reminded that justice is one of the pillars on which the world is built. God demands us to seek out justice.
Reflecting over the strange coincidence of the death of Bin Laden being announced on Yom HaShoah, Rabbi Menachem Creditor reflected: I’m not sure what I mean right now. I’m relieved that an evil has been eliminated from the world. I’m mourning our lost Six Million. I’m watching the crowds on Pennsylvania Ave and Ground Zero, weeping at all that happened and is forever changed, aching for some healing and some small amount of hope. I’m still hearing the testimony from a Shoa survivor shared less than three hours ago echoing in my heart, proud to have joined as a large Berkeley Jewish community to bear witness to our collective pain. I’m lost right now. That’s all I think I can mean at the moment. We do not rejoice at the death of our enemy. The implementation of justice is not a joyful celebration. As Rabbi Cohen writes of watching the recording of Eichmann’s trial, “In this man’s eyes are reflected the ghosts of his uncountable victims…and also nothing at all.” I am riveted by the face of Bin Laden. I do not want to look into his eyes. Those eyes witnessed the snuffing out of so much life; those eyes remained willfully blind to the pain and loss he caused. I believe justice has indeed been served today. Joylessly, as is appropriate.
The reaction of the religious community has largely been along those lines as well. The Vatican called on Catholics to not rejoice but reflect on the death as an opportunity for furthering peace. The New Evangelical Partnership for the Common Good reminded us: “Our response is disciplined by belief that war itself is tragic and that all killing in war, even in self-defense, must be treated with sobriety and even mournfulness. War and all of its killing reflects the brokenness of our world. That is the proper spirit with which to greet this news.” Two of the major Muslim organizations, the Muslim Public Affairs Council and the Islamic Society of North America, have framed Bin Laden’s death in terms of justice for victims of 9/11 and repeated President Obama’s call for national unity. Like the President, they also took the opportunity to remind American that the radical terrorist did not represent or speak for Islam.
My friend Rabbi Noah Farkas wrote: “It’s not the celebration on the day of the death of an enemy that exemplifies justice, but how we choose to live the day after.” Repairing the broken world is not about what someone else might do, it is about us and how we bear the responsibilities given to us. Treating every human being as created in God’s image is difficult. Feeling compassion for the stranger, because we were strangers, is not an easy choice. The Talmud (Sanhedrin 65b) insists that the responsibility for healing is in our hands, if only we could overcome our own limitations: “Raba said: If the righteous desired it, they could be creators of worlds, as it is written, “But your iniquities have separated between you and your God [Isaiah 59:2].”
Today is the day after. Let us create a world of peace.
This year we tried something a little different at our Seder. We were so pleased with the result that I wanted to share it here - an idea to store away for next year. It won't work for everyone - certainly not for Jews who do not use additional power or technology on the festivals - but that still leaves a lot of Jews who might want to try something new.
We began our Seder fairly conventionally, following our Haggadah through the festival candle-lighting, first cup of wine, and so on, through to Yachatz - the breaking of the matzah. But when we arrived at the heart of the haggadah (and the longest section) - Maggid - telling the story, we put down the haggadah. First, we performed what has become a family ritual over the years - the Passover story in rap, with costumes and movement. That story in its entirety, from Moses' birth to the crossing of the Sea, is rather difficult to find in a traditional haggadah, but we like to cover the basics.
What we do find in the haggadah is a confusing mix of conversations from generations ago - Rabbis talking all through the night, fantasies about multiplications of plagues, four questions (some of which are never answered in the text of the haggadah), four children who respond to the whole Seder experience in different ways, and so on. Its a rather strange hodge-podge if you think about it. I've always regarded it as something of a 'teacher's manual' - it gives you ideas of how to engage in the storytelling, but it doesn't work so well as the storytelling itself.
If it is the case that, 'in every generation' we must have an experience that gets us back in touch with what it means to experience slavery and what it means to seek and gain freedom, then how might we tell that story today? This year, we used visuals and video to help us access that story in ways that deeply tapped into our own experiences and understanding, challenging us, moving us, and inspiring us.
We began with a video of a new song out of Israel, entitled 'Out of Egypt', by Alma Zohar.
She reminds us: Chorus: Don’t you know that each day and in every age,
one and all must see himself as though having escaped Egypt
So he won’t forget how he fled, how he was beaten, bled, left dead
How he called out to the heavens
The song concludes: There’s always war in Africa
What luck that it’s so far away
We don’t have to see or hear the screams
The video can be viewed here.
This was how we began to think about Avadim Hayinu - we were slaves, but now we are free. If the spiritual message here is to remember in order to empathize, in order to be moved to action when we remember what slavery was like, we cannot simply ritually recite the words, but must look at the world we live in today. Zohar's video powerfully engages us. The words at the end of the youtube tell us:
Since 2003, an estimated 10,000 immigrants from various African countries have crossed into Israel.
Some 600 refugees from the Darfur region of Sudan have been granted temporary resident status to be renewed every year, though not official refugee status. Another 2000 refugees from the conflict between Eritrea and Ethiopia have been granted temporary resident status on humanitarian grounds.
In 2007, Israel deported 48 refugees back to Egypt after they succeeded in crossing the border, of which twenty were deported back to Sudan by Egyptian authorities.
An Israeli looking for something more from her people and her country.
From here, we looked at the 'Pharaohs of today'. These are included in the video of the powerpoint presentation below. As we followed the slides, the storytelling took us from reflecting on some of the worst dictators and their oppression of their people, to a call on each of us to reflect and discuss how we use our power. The image of the scallion and the staff represent enslavement and freedom-fighting - that which we do to others, and that which we do to ourselves. Why the scallion? Because it is a Sephardi Jewish tradition to take a scallion and beat the person next to you with it when telling the story of enslavement and hard labor in the Pesach story.
Just as each of us has the ability to use our power to oppress or to free, so each of us contains something of each of the four children. A small selection of the images used to illustrate these children in haggadot over the ages gave us an entree to discussing what these had to teach us.
Then we moved to the moment of freedom. With several artist's renderings of the crossing of the Sea, we pondered whether the experience was one that was awesome, fantastical, celebratory... its not so easy to leave behind the known for the unknown, however bad it might have been. The emotions that accompany us are complex.
Finally, many of our guests brought their own image of freedom. The range was diverse - abstract, specific, political, inspiring, peaceful, spiritual... each image birthed a story or description - just a minute or two each, to enable us to engage with the deeper meaning and experience of freedom.
All of these sections are reflected in the video below:
One contribution was in the form of a video:
In truth, time did not allow us to discuss each section equally fully - we could easily have been like the Rabbis of old, up all night, to really do justice to this much material. But we certainly had one of the more meaningful experiences of engaging with the Passover story that I can remember.
We closed out the section with a couple of videos that have done the rounds this year and in past years - The Fountainheads 'Dayenu', and Michelle Citrin's wonderful '20 things to do with Matzah'.
Our Seder is conducted in our living room space and not seated at tables, so the logistics of this way of doing Maggid were relatively simple - a laptop plugged into a projector pointing at the wall. It might easily have been done by plugging into a flat-screen TV.
But even a 'low-tech' version of this mode - photocopies or photos of images passed around a table - would achieve a similar result; like the chalk pictures on the pavement in the movie 'Mary Poppins', they provide a portal and, when we jump right in, these images offer a different way of accessing the journey from slavery to freedom. Rabbi Rachel Gurevitz
I've led or co-led several workshops or conversations with parents over this past week on ways of engaging children and adults alike in the Passover Seder experience. The following is not a comprehensive list; rather, a sharing of some of the top tips that I have found excite parents and children when we introduce these possibilities to Seder night. Keeping with the Passover format, here are 4 suggestions:
1) Involving children in the preparations. Building the anticipation by having our children prepare some things for Seder night is key. This can include more traditional tasks, like helping to make the charoset, and searching for the last pieces of chametz (bread, cake, etc.) that a parent has hidden on the last morning before Seder with a feather (bedikat chametz). But it can also include preparing some acting of the story, songs, decorating pillow covers (thanks Rabbi Nicole Wilson-Spiro, who runs our Young Families Chavurah, for this one), matzah covers, place settings etc. If you clean out your kitchen but don't empty every cupboard, have the kids design the 'Chametz - Keep Out!' and 'Kosher for Pesach' signs to put on the cupboard doors.
2) Logistics and lay-out. This is one of the most overlooked elements of the Seder but one that I have come to appreciate as crucial. While not every home has the space to accommodate some creativity in this department, we have found that sitting on sofas, cushions and chairs in concentric circles around a coffee table in a living room to be much more conducive, at least for the pre-meal part of the Seder, than sitting still around a formally-laid table. Young children can get up and move around more easily without being a distraction, and the atmosphere engenders more conversation and interaction between the adults too. At our Seder we often hang colorful fabrics in the room to create the feeling of sitting under a tent. In previous years, we've moved to tables in another room for the meal, but this year we'll be using our dining room table as the buffet table, and will continue the informal feel as we eat in this more informal setting too.
3) While some observe the tradition of reading from the beginning to the end of the Haggadah, I regard it as more of a teacher's manual. There are steps - 15 of them to be precise, listed at the beginning of most haggadot, which make up the Seder - the order - of the service. Most of these steps are short (washing hands, dipping karpas into salt water, breaking the matzah and hiding the afikoman, etc.) The largest section is Maggid - telling the story. In this section we find the debates and conversations of several generations of Rabbis recorded. But for the story to come alive for us so that, as we are commanded, we experience the Exodus as if we ourselves left Egypt, we have to find our own way to tell and respond to the story.
- That might mean acting it out (have the children walk around the room with sacks over their shoulders while you sing; when the music stops, ask them a question: Who are you? Where are you going? What are you carrying? What will you eat? etc.).
- You might use songs to tell the story.
- You might have the children ask questions (not just recite the Ma Nishtanah, which are just your starters for 4, not meant to be the totality of questions for the whole night!)
- You might ask guests to bring their symbols of Freedom for a second Seder plate, to be shared during the course of the evening (thank you to Rabbi Phyllis Berman, from whom I learned this one).
- When it comes to the praises we sing to celebrate our freedom, you might get up and dance! With fabric, you might 'split the sea' for people to pass through as they sing and celebrate.
- For an adult crowd, you might seek out challenging contemporary readings on themes of freedom to discuss around the table (see haggadot.com for an amazing selection of potential readings).
4) Finally, I really recommend doing some of the Seder after the meal. Traditionally there is still the Grace after Meals, more praises, two cups of wine, and Elijah's cup to go, plus some closing songs. I know that many families skip the post-meal Seder, but there is something powerful and pleasureable about taking even 15 minutes to offer thanks and close with some fun songs (the traditional ones like Chad Gad Ya, or some contemporary fun songs set to familiar tunes - see here, for example).
Just wanted to share a feel-good story today. Anyone who knows anything about Connecticut know that we are very proud of our Huskies - the UConn basketball teams. Basketball is pretty much the only US game this (British) Rabbi follows, and only because congregants (thanks Val and Linda!) initiated me a couple of years back with some live games watching a truly outstanding team. But today I found myself cheering for another Women's team when I cam across the following news: Israeli women’s basketball club Elitzur Ramla beat France’s Arras 61-53 last night to capture the EuroCup. Their amazing run makes them Israel’s first women’s club to capture the European Championship.
It is the first time that an Israeli team has won this competition since the guys did it back in 1977.
You can read more of the story at the IsRealli blog.
Go Team!
If Purim is over then it must be the season for the Women's Seder! The pre-Passover timing allows for women who have, traditionally, had their hands rather busy doing a lot of the behind-the-scenes work at the family Passover Seder, to enjoy creating and leading the ritual aspects of the Seder. A pre-Passover Seder has also enabled some of the wonderful creativity - prayers, writings, stories, and music - that have emerged from the Women's Seder ritual over the decades to make their way into family and other communal Seders.
The first Women’s Seder took place in Haifa, Israel and Manhattan, NY in the USA in 1975. The story of the early years and the text of the first haggadah written for the Women’s Seder can be found in ‘The Telling’, by E.M. Broner. These early Seder gatherings represented the coming together of second wave feminism with Judaism as women who had previously felt excluded from a Judaism that was perceived to be patriarchal and exclusionary began to reclaim their heritage and Jewish women’s spirituality. Sally Priesand had been the first US woman to be ordained as a rabbi in 1972, and Jackie Tabick was the first to be ordained in the UK in 1975. The times they were a’changin’.
Since those early years, the tradition of a Women’s Seder has spread far and wide and has evolved considerably. Many local communities have created their own haggadah, weaving together borrowed poems, stories, and songs with their own new liturgical writing and composing. One organization based in New York City, Ma'yan, was instrumental in the spread of the Women's Seder internationally, with the music of the greatly missed Debbie Friedman, z'l, creating a phenomenon where, for a number of years, over 500 women a night would fill a room for 2-3 nights in a row for the Ma'yan Seder.
While a traditional haggadah makes no mention of the women who were so important to the unfolding of our people’s story of the journey from slavery to freedom, a Women’s Seder haggadah tells of the midwives, Shifra and Puah, Yocheved and Miriam. While a traditional haggadah only retells the discussions and interpretations offered by male rabbis and scholars through the centuries, a Women’s Seder haggadah weaves together the words of women, and returns our voice to our people’s history and heritage. Women have always passed on their wisdom and Jewish practices from generation to generation, and the Women's Seder at Congregation B'nai Israel always includes structured sharing of stories, questions and answers, where our bat mitzvah students share their stories with older generations and vice versa; its a multi-generational gathering.
This year’s Seder is different from all of our previous Women’s Seders at Congregation B’nai Israel; this year we welcome our Christian and Muslim sisters in faith to join us for a Seder ritual that celebrates the themes of Freedom and Peace, weaving together the inspirational sources from our three faith traditions. This Seder is inspired by the pioneering work of Rabbi Arthur Waskow and The Shalom Center who formulated the first Seder for the Children of Abraham, Sarah and Hagar in 1999. Our Rosh Hodesh group has spent the year in a series of interfaith interactions with women from local churches and Muslim communities, and we look forward to welcoming them all to our Passover Seder. The goal is not to provide a 'model Seder' for the benefit of our sisters-in-faith, but to use the Passover Seder model and message to weave together lessons, songs and inspiration from all three faiths to inspire us to think and engage more deeply with the Passover message.
The Seder takes place at Congregation B'nai Israel, Bridgeport, Thursday, March 31st, 7:30 p.m. It is free and open to all women from the local community. RSVP to reserve a seat with lynn@congregationbnaiisrael.org
'Tis the season.... for entertaining Youtube videos of Purim spoofs galore. There are a couple of gems this year and you can check them all out at our Congregation's website on the Purim Page (just scroll down, but check out our Adults-only Beach Ball Party on March 19 at the top of the page - everyone is welcome; none of our programs are for members only).
But this morning I saw a posting on ejewishphilanthropy.com that mentioned one Youtube that I hadn't seen yet from the Hillel of St. Petersburg, Russia. Check it out!
Here's the translation (from the original posting on ejewishphilanthropy.com): Hello, I’m Liya Geldman. I’m a senior student at cinema and television university in St. Petersburg. As you know Russia is a multiethnic and multidenominational country. But do Russians really know traditions of other cultures? Today we came here to find out if they know what Purim is.
- Do you know what Purim is?
- Hello, do you know what Purim is?
- Hi Julia, do you know what is Purim?
- Hello, what is Purim?
Doesn’t anyone know what Purim is?
Purim! Purim! Purim!
Purim! Purim! Purim!
Celebrating Purim!
Zenit and Haiduck (Russian soccer teams),
Student and coach,
Human and spider,
Patient and surgeon,
NYC, Moscow and Saint Petersburg!
Purim! Also celebrating in Barnaul
People from Penza and Tomsk,
On Kamchatka and in Kerch,
And possibly even on the moon.
Purim! Let’s put some make up on!
Whether you are old or young,
Even if you hadn’t slept for 3 nights
It’s Israeli mega-carnival!
Purim! We highly recommend it.
The plot is twisted,
It happened almost 3000 years ago
So it might be hard to remember
Where’s good and where’s bad
So choose for yourself who’s good and who’s bad
Here’s the Mordehai the Jew, King Ahashverosh.
Where’s Vashti? The Tzar’s ex-wife?
But maybe Hamman could be the Bad Guy?
Imagine for a while that we’re in Babylon,
Who’s the star on this dark sky? Esther!
Here’s a lesson for now and in 600BC
If you’re brave, you’ve got the power!
We’ll scream together Mazal Tov!
Our glass is full to the brim.
With what? Lets fill it with wine
And drink it all up.
And during this Purim we’ll change the world!
I hope you get the 'feel-good' that I felt watching Jews in Russia celebrating Purim. Oh, today we'll merry, merry be, and nosh some hamentaschen!
Congressman Keith Elllison spoke passionately and powerfully today at Peter King's congressional hearing about Radicalized Islam in the USA. In distinction from the distasteful background to these hearings (see my earlier post this week), Congressman Ellison reminded us that every American Muslim is an individual and it is incumbent upon us all to stand up in the face of Islamophobia, or any kind of racism that talks about a 'them'. He did so by telling us about one particular American Muslim, 23 years old, who was a first responder at the Twin Towers on 9/11. His testimony speaks for itself.
No-one would deny our obligations to keep America safe and to root out terrorism. But when we forget that for every radical in any group there are many more stories like these, and try to tar an entire community of millions with the brush of extremism, we are guilty of racism, plain and simple. There are more and less effective ways to identify terrorists and terrorist plots, whether they be within the USA or beyond our borders. Holding a congressional hearing contributed not one iota to that goal. Congressman Ellison helped communicate that message loud and clear.
Rabbis for Human Rights just released a first set of youtube videos of Rabbis of all denominations speaking out against Islamophobia. You can view them here. Rabbi Rachel Gurevitz
Equipped with a rain jacket and umbrella in anticipation of the damp afternoon forecast, I headed down to Stamford yesterday lunchtime to take a bus into New York City with members of the Institute for Islamic and Arabic Studies. This is a diverse and wonderful Muslim community that draws members from across Fairfield County. Members from this community were the first Muslims to partner with our Fairfield County 'Tent of Abraham' interfaith dialog group when we started our three-faith community programs 5 years ago. We have since partnered with them many times, and their teenagers participate with our teenagers in an annual Teen Interfaith-Interaction program every Spring.
Why was I spending my afternoon with this community on a trip into New York City? At relatively short notice, a multi-faith coalition had come together for a rally yesterday afternoon near Times Square to protest the congressional inquiry due to start this week, chaired by House Homeland Security Chair, Peter King, looking into Radicalized Islam in the USA. King has claimed that Muslims within the USA are an increasing threat because they are being radicalized on our home turf, and Muslim communities are not cooperating sufficiently to identify and root out these radicalized elements. It is important to know that these claims have been challenged by government departments who work with Muslim communities on a regular basis. For a balanced article on this inquiry and the lead-up to it, a good piece in the Washington Post last week is worth reading.
As residents of Connecticut, in the wake of a fringe evangelical group parading outside a Bridgeport mosque shortly before Ramadan last year with placards declaring that 'Islam is the Devil', and a mosque in Hamden being vandalized last week for the third time in a year, the concern that Muslim American citizens are being targeted and victimized solely on the basis of their faith is something that should be of concern to everyone, but especially to other minority groups, faith-based or otherwise. As Jews, we should always be especially concerned when we see anything that looks like government-sponsored stirring up of popular opinion and fear toward one group of citizens. And King's inquiry certainly looks like that to many people of faith.
The rally organized in New York City yesterday was an interfaith effort, with Muslim, Christian, Jewish and Buddhist speakers (apologies for any omissions). Rabbis for Human Rights was one of the supporting organizations who tried to help get the word out at what was short notice to pull a rally together. Nevertheless, despite the short time-frame and the appalling weather, about 500 people attended the rally.
My bus-ride down to the city was a wonderful opportunity to listen and hear about many of the experiences of the men, women and children who were attending the rally. Mothers coming with their children because they don't want their American-born children to grow up hearing from their government that they are somehow less American or more suspect because of the faith that they practice; friends who have reduced their international traveling because of the scrutiny and treatment they have experienced at the airports; debates that Muslims have among themselves about profiling (we were all of the opinion that one should profile for violent fanatics, and there are ways of better identifying potentially dangerous individuals, but faith or ethnicity were not very good indicators of these traits). We also talked about what it was like for one Egyptian-born woman who just happened to have gone home to visit her sister when the Revolution happened; we talked about the ethical components of the Halal food industry (our Kashrut agencies could learn a lot from our Muslim colleagues on this issue). And then we helped each other figure out what statements we wanted to put on the placards that our coordinator, Dolores, had brought, and what images would accompany them.
The placards turned out to be a wonderful idea, especially as the youth who were with us produced some beautiful and moving statements, simply put. When we reached the rally we ended up in the front of a second area that had been partitioned off on the side of the road where the rally was taking place. With their placards hanging over the barriers, a number of news channels and photographers came by to capture our group. The ethnic backgrounds of the members enabled them to do interviews with the press in English, Spanish and Urdu. Calmly we expressed our love for all peoples, and our objections to an inquiry that is divisive and detrimental to the safety of millions of American Muslims who are peace-loving; people we are proud to call our friends and neighbors.
The vibe was very positive, and we found ourselves engaged in conversations with others who had come to the rally; Muslim, Quaker, Christian, Jew. There had been a very small group that identified themselves as tea-party connected who had intended to counter-demonstrate but they seemed to disperse quickly. We found ourselves being greeted by one woman who was very concerned that we knew the Truth about Jesus and was not satisfied to hear Muslims tell her that they loved Jesus and the love that Jesus taught; our lack of belief in her particular understanding of Jesus was something that troubled her greatly. We politely took her literature and were able to continue with our main purpose for being there when the wonderful police officer stationed at the front of our section politely suggested she move on.
A couple of hours later, the rally almost over, we made our way out. The rally made but a small dent in the rhetoric that I am afraid we will have to listen to in the coming week. Realizing that they could not stop the inquiry, many Muslims are now trying to participate so that they can communicate the message that they want to be heard; it is too dangerous to leave this inquiry in the hands of those who have already drawn dangerous conclusions devoid of factual information and seemingly unaware (or, God forbid, uncaring) about the potential consequences of their words to spur more violence against Muslim communities in the USA.
I urge all people of faith to speak out against King's inquiry. It is a misplaced and misguided response to the real, ongoing concerns about terrorism, fundamentalists and fanatics. Targeting the entire American Muslim community is wrong, and dangerously so. Rabbi Rachel Gurevitz
Yes, Glenn Beck apologized for his comparison of Reform Judaism and Radical Islam. He admits that it was a ludicrous analogy. He apologizes for the offence caused. He doesn't revisit the deeper issues that I raised in my blog response, of how religious values and religious life must, in my opinion, respond to the same societal issues that the legislature also deals with to be a full expression of living a life of faith. That doesn't mean that religious values can answer the question of whether a particular piece of legislation is well-written, but they can guide us to consider whether we should address a particular need in society, and then advocate for the legislators to find a way to do that. They should not dictate what happens in civil society, but they have a place at the table.
Listen to Beck's apology and make up your own mind. I think I was most struck by his recognition that being on air for 4 hours every day without a script was 'a recipe for disaster'. Glenn - I think that's the most sensible thing I've heard you say!
Those who have read this blog before know that its not my usual mode to add my commentary to the wonderful world of political punditry. While my congregants can probably guess what TV channels I mostly tune in to for my daily dose of news (ok, I'll confess - its usually BBC World because how else am I going to get a daily dose to try and preserve my ever-diminishing British accent!), I don't use (or rather, abuse) my pulpit in ways that make it a soapbox for my personal, political views. That's not what a place of worship is for.
But.... when I listened to the excerpt from Glenn Beck's radio show posted on salon.com that is rapidly being re-tweeted all over Twittersville as I type, I decided that this one was blog-worthy. Why? Because the accusation that Rabbis can speak of nothing that politicians vote on without being accused of being 'political' and not truly 'religious' is such utter ridiculousness that it cannot be left to stand.
Now, the tweet making its away up the charts is eye-catching (that's why I used it in my blog heading today) but somewhat misleading. If you listen to the full context of the quote from the radio show, Beck explicitly says that he is not making the likeness between Reform Judaism and Radicalized Islam on the basis of fundamentalist or violent behaviors. Rather, he is saying that neither of them are expressions of Religious faith as much as they are politically motivated movements.
What Judaism and Islam both have in common as faith traditions is that their codes of law and practices were never confined to ritual practice and belief. Both were conceived of, in their origins, as entire social systems. Jewish law from the earliest centuries speak of the obligations of a community providing a particular minimum of teacher/student ratio in the classroom. It speaks of the obligation of a communal pot to ensure that doctors are paid for their medical services even when an individual cannot themselves afford the medical care they need to keep them alive. It speaks of ethical business practices, ethical ways of collecting charitable funds, and how to figure out ways of distributing those funds when the community's need is greater than the contents of the fund.
While, as American Jews, we live in a country where there is a constitutional separation of church and State, Judaism as a faith tradition was not originally conceived with such a separation as part of the cultural context in which it operated. This means that when Jews talk about practicing Judaism, they might be talking about their Sabbath observance or their Passover Seder, but they might just as equally be talking about their social activism on behalf of the needy.
They might be talking about why they, as individuals, feel called to lobby their political representatives to preserve a woman's civil legal right to an abortion because those who wish to take away that right would actually be preventing Jews from dealing with these women's health issues in ways that are congruent with Jewish law. Jewish law is absolutely explicit - if an unborn child threatens the health of a woman, the woman's well-being always takes precedence. Reform Rabbis who advocate on this issue don't wish to prevent someone else acting on the basis of their faith in a different way; but they do object to a different religious understanding of this issue impinging on our rights as American citizens.
They might be talking about environmental policies because Jewish ethical teachings about environmental conservation go back to Genesis, and the rabbinic extension of Bal Taschit - do not waste - has modern day, practical applications that lead us to encourage our government to take steps to help our society better take care of our precious earth.
And so, yes, Reform Rabbis like myself are among those who will speak out on issues such as these because our Religious tradition has wisdom to share that guides our values and lives today.
For someone as deeply uninformed about most things as Beck to claim to know what Reform Judaism is and what it stands for, and on what basis Reform Jews engage with matters of social policy, is simply ridiculous. But more than that; when he brings up the notion that people of faith have nothing to offer on any issue that is ever dealt with by the legislature and that doing so nullifies their claim to be 'religious', he is perpetuating a fallacy about the role of religiously-informed values that guide the lives of individuals.
Jewish Religious living and Jewish values that do not address what it means to live together as a community and as a nation, what it means to take care of each other, what it means to preserve civil freedoms, what it means to challenge those who whip up fear and hatred among neighbors, is no Judaism that I care to associate with. If Judaism is reduced to the performance of ritual and the recitation of rites alone and is not also about how we live our lives as human beings, with each other, as best as we possibly can, then it is a Judaism without heart or soul. That's not Reform or Conservative, Orthodox, Reconstructionist or Renewal... that's just Judaism. Rabbi Rachel Gurevitz
To everything there is a season, and a time for every purpose under heaven...
So goes the famous verse from Ecclesiastes (3:1).
Today, ejewishphilanthropy.com reported on a new app for your smartphone, due out by Feb 25th, developed as part of Reboot's 'National Day of Unplugging'. As reported on the ejewish philanthropy blog, they explain: Bucking the trend of technology that allows people to tell everyone that they’ve checked into their local restaurant, cafe or bar, Reboot has developed a smartphone app that helps users “check out” of the internet altogether. The app ironically will use technology to shut down technology.
Think of it as rehab for the smartphone. By using technology, the Sabbath Manifesto app is intended to spur a massive movement away from technology on the National Day of Unplugging, March 4-5, 2011 and beyond, and a return to the values inherent in a modern day of rest: reconnecting with family, friends and the world around them.
The 'Sabbath Manifesto' is an ongoing Reboot project that 'encourages people to slow down their lives by embracing its 10 principles once a week: Avoid Technology; Connect With Loved Ones; Nurture Your Health; Get Outside; Avoid Commerce; Light Candles; Drink Wine; Eat Bread; Find Silence; Give Back.'
This is a great example of the kind of work that Reboot does best. Not only do they translate Jewish wisdom into actions that speak to C21st Jews, but they take that Jewish wisdom public and make it accessible to everyone. Many took part in the National Day of Unplugging last year - millions of all faiths and backgrounds from around the world. The New York Times and Huffington Post were among those mainstream media outlets that drew attention to the 25 hour period of downtime.
Now, in truth, while I love this project, I personally find it challenging to participate 100% as intended. Living on a different continent to my parents and my brother, ichat or skype video chats have become one of the wonderful ways that I stay connected with my family. You'll notice that one of those 10 principles of the Sabbath Manifesto is to 'connect with loved ones.' While I connect on many occasions during the week, sometimes just for 5 minutes before I leave for work, Shabbat afternoon is one of the prime times for an extended family chat. I try to be disciplined and don't do email or facebook or twitter on Shabbat, but that valuable family connection time is the one reason that I don't entirely shut down the computer on the Sabbath.
I expect I'm not the only one who has a personal caveat to following the Sabbath Manifesto 100% to the letter, but I feel (and yes, as a Reform Rabbi who will set aside some of the constrictions of traditional Jewish law), that there is meaning in making an informed choice that is intentional to elevate a particular value that I hold above all else - honoring my parents and staying as connected to my family as possible, especially in light of my life having brought me to another country. I've often felt that it is sometimes harder to be an 'observant' Reform Jew; when one is often making informed choices about so many aspects of Jewish ritual and observance, it requires a different kind of engagement than the, in some ways, simpler observance of strict halachic observance. Falling into mainstream cultural norms without thought and getting caught up in activities that really don't jive with any attempt to observe a day of rest is easy unless one chooses to create a vessel or structure that helps you to make Shabbat for real. And that's where Reboot's manifesto, and their upcoming app show such creativity and are so user-friendly.
If Shabbat is meant to be, as Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel put it, a 'Palace in Time', then I can think of no better place to 'check in' for day. See you there!
Wednesday marks the end of shloshim - the 30 day period of mourning after the funeral of Debbie Friedman. Many congregations, federations and communities in the USA and abroad have been, and will be having musical gatherings to honor Debbie's memory. Some of the larger programs were streamed live and recorded for subsequent viewing. You can listen to the Memorial service held at Central Synagogue, New York, here. There was a concert memorial held at Temple Israel in Boston which you can view here.
Here, at Congregation B'nai Israel, we are gathering at the end of the first Shabbat after shloshim for a Havdalah song-session on February 12, 5-6:30 p.m. Our focus will be on one thing and one thing only - singing Debbie's music together in a gathering that is open to everyone. Helping to lead us will be several local musicians such as Cantor Scott Harris, Rabbi Suri Krieger, Rayhan Pasternak, Rhea Farbman, and Adrianne Greenbaum (in addition to B'nai Israel's own clergy and educators), and also some special guests from further afield: Kathy Gohr from Allentown, PA, Adrian Durlester from Amherst MA, Arnie Davidson from Glastonbury, CT and Batya Diamond from Wilton, CT. This latter group are all people that I met at or with whom I share one very special place in common - Hava Nashira. In fact, Rayhan, who is a Fairfield local, is also someone that I first met many years before I found myself in Connecticut, at Hava Nashira. I'd like to say a little more about that in a moment. But first, I hope you'll be able to join us to sing, learn and share Debbie's music on the 12th. So that we can estimate numbers, it would be very helpful if you could RSVP via this link.
Hava Nashira is the program that first brought me to the USA. It is the annual conference for song-leaders, held at OSRUI camp, Oconomowoc, WI and it is the URJ camp that serves the Great Lakes region. I came because two years earlier Debbie had visited the UK, performed at the Liberal synagogue in St. John's Wood, London and run the choir a the UK national Limmud conference. This was before Limmud became the 2,500-person mega conference that is today. We were about 750-strong that year, and it was my first time attending the conference. After Debbie left, a number of us based in London who had sung in her choir were bemoaning the fact that there was no-one like her for us to sing with when she left. Both the style of the music and the passion and excitement that we felt in just singing our souls to God, experimenting with harmonies, feeling the surge of the voices coming together - we didn't know of a place in the UK to do that. There were formal Jewish choirs that one could join and, wonderful though some of them were, it just wasn't the same.
For whatever reason - perhaps a sense of calling, or perhaps just pure chutzpah, I decided that there was no reason we couldn't continue to sing Debbie's music, and music like Debbie's in an informal musical gathering that had no 'outcome' in mind - no concerts, no performances. Shir B'Yachad (sing together) was born, as a monthly musical gathering (A name suggested by Diane Bramson who still runs the monthly gathering now many years after I left the UK). Initially I partnered with a friend, Nina Maraney, who was a talented Music graduate who played guitar and had a beautiful voice. She was just beginning to focus on doing more professional music work for the Jewish community and, after almost a year, she encouraged me to take the helm musically as well as organizationally. My musical skills were much more limited - some passable keyboard accompaniment and some rhythm, but I learned the songs quickly and gained confidence in teaching them to others. Another friend and talented song-leader and composer, Jess Gold, encouraged me to join her the following year at Hava Nashira where I could gain some skills training and broaden my repertoire.
Debbie Friedman leading a session at Hava Nashira
Hava Nashira was a life-changing experience in so many ways. On the first evening when we gathered for our first song-session, I felt like I'd entered some heavenly realm, surrounded by so many folk voices, effortlessly breaking into 6-part (at least) harmony as we sang together. In addition to Debbie, the faculty included Jeff Klepper, Merri Arian, Ellen Dreskin, Rosalie Boxt, and Donny Maseng. There were many talented musicians and composers among the attendees too and it was quite awe-inspiring to be in the midst of it all. I learned a lot of repertoire and picked up a lot of great advice on how to song-lead effectively in different settings. Still very much the amateur, I returned to Hava Nashira whenever I could (although its been about 5 years since I was last able to make it). Reconnecting with old friends became as much a part of the pleasure and, even with those I didn't see or hear from much in the interim, there was a powerful bond that transcended time and space that connected so many of us who had shared the Hava Nashira experience.
When Debbie died, the remembrances and stories shared by all those who subscribe to the Hava Nashira listserv continued unabated for well over a week. So many shared stories of things they had learned from Debbie, things that they had seen her do at Hava Nashira, the jokes she had told, the personal connections she had made with so many, inspiring them or supporting them at vital junctions in their lives. It was deeply moving.
And so it is that, among the musicians helping to lead us in song next Saturday evening are some of those special connections from Hava Nashira. Hava Nashira will go on, although Debbie's absence this year will be enormous. The faculty in recent years has include Craig Taubman, Peter and Ellen Allard, Dan Nicols, Shira Kline and Josh Nelson - many very talented musicians, composers and song-leaders. In addition, last year a Fall/Winter gathering was added called 'Shabbat Shirah', providing another opportunity to gather at OSRUI. To learn more click here.
Sharing the joke (one of so many) with Debbie, Jeff, and Dan
Debbie, we will all miss you more than words can say. Your memory is forever a blessing, and we will honor that memory by continuing to 'Sing Unto God'. Rabbi Rachel Gurevitz
These words, close to the start of the ‘Live at the Del’ album, were my first introduction to Debbie Friedman. It was around 1992 and I’d been attending a workshop in London about contemporary Jewish female composers who were doing remarkable things. In the UK Reform headquarters bookstore, this cassette was all they had. My mother and I put the tape on to drive back home and were singing along within seconds, even though we’d never heard these songs before. Because that’s what Debbie wanted you to do – sing! And she knew how to get everyone joining in. When Debbie came to the UK two years later, to lead a choir and several workshops at the Limmud Conference, she did something transformative. As Educator, Robbie Gringras notes, she ‘created an astonishing ad hoc choir of Brits who sang to the heavens with a freedom and joy that I’d never heard in the UK’.
Debbie transformed lives. I have lost count of the number of postings that I have read in the last few days where, whether someone had sung with her, met her for a moment, worked with her professionally, or knew her as a friend, they felt that she had inspired them to follow their dreams, and fully realize their potential. I was one of so many. When Debbie left the UK after that Limmud Conference, I established a monthly music gathering – Shir B’Yachad (sing together), with no purpose other than to sing our souls to God, but that path eventually led me to the Rabbinate, and to the USA.
Speaking about the message of her song, L’chi Lach, Debbie explained that, in the parsha Lech Lecha there are the words ‘veh'yei bracha’ – and you shall be a blessing. ‘Its not a suggestion’, she said. ‘It’s in the command form; Lech l’cha – go within and find that spark, that essence, and let it shine forth in the world – be a blessing. And that is exactly what she did.
I got to know Debbie as a dear friend over time and by the time I moved to New York in 2003 I felt like I had a big sister, confidant, and special friend in Debbie. One of the reasons that Debbie moved so many people was because she always spoke from the heart. She was the most real and honest person. She could see inside your soul and, when you were not being honest with yourself, she’d help you find yourself again. She was a private person but, when you had her trust, she would share her world with you and give you the privilege of giving her a little something back.
Debbie was also extremely funny. She loved slapstick, could tell a joke like few others, and would have audiences in stitches with laughter just as often as she would have them in tears from the emotional outpouring that her songs and prayers gave rise to. Even in the midst of a healing service there would be laughter and, of course, that was sometimes the most healing of all.
Debbie’s life and legacy were remarkable. She became ill in the prime of her career, after a reaction to some migraine medication. It left her with the neurological illness that she had for the rest of her life, and which showed considerable signs of worsening in recent years. Yet Debbie inspired us all by giving everything that she had. She did not grumble or complain – her burden became her inspiration, and her Mi Shebeirach blessing for healing, in addition to so much more liturgy set to inclusive, communal music, transformed how we pray, and how we feel when we pray.
Last Saturday morning, for parshat Bo, I had talked about freedom requiring us to confront our inner Pharaohs. I know from the conversations that I have had with close friends of Debbie’s in recent days that Debbie did exactly that in the last couple of months of her life and, despite her physical deterioration and pain, lived more fully than she had for so long, doing everything she loved with everyone she loved just one more time to the max – no holding back. She jammed until 4am on the last two nights of Limmud. When she got back she had a day out with her family doing some of the things that they loved to do together. This was the day before she was admitted into the hospital. She called and emailed many friends in recent weeks and months and gave each of us one last special gift. She freed herself from her slavery, even though it meant that as she crossed the parting sea, she left us behind. She is now dancing on the other shore with Miriam and all the people.
And the women dancing with their timbrels, followed Debbie as she sang her song. Sing a song for the one who came before us, Debbie and the people sang and sang the whole night long.’
Debbie Friedman z'l with beloved dog Farfel (now deceased; Gribenez was Debbie's beloved dog at the time of her death)
Debbie established 'The Renewal of Spirit Foundation' a number of years ago. A donation to this fund will enable projects that she was working on at the time of her death to be completed. For more information, go to debbiefriedman.com
Rabbi Rachel Gurevitz
Each song mentioned above is linked to an album where you can find that track on oysongs.com Debbie's albums are also available on several other sites, e.g. itunes, debbiefriedman.com
