Circumspect Conversations about Circumcision

cross-posted at the Rabbis Without Borders blog on http://myjewishlearning.com

This week we heard news from Germany that a regional court ruled that circumcision amounts to bodily harm, even if parents agree to it. There is, as of yet, no law to make the performance of the ritual illegal, but the ruling has nevertheless caused concern. The Conference of European Rabbis are gathering in an emergency meeting to consider a response.

There is news out of Europe on a fairly regular basis that challenges the legitimacy and ethic of one of two ritual practices that impacts both the Jewish and Muslim communities – circumcision, and the practice of shechitah (ritual slaughter) as part of the process of making animals kosher to eat. When this news reaches US shores, we sometimes jump to the conclusion that there is more than a hint of antisemitism (or, increasingly, Islamophobia) behind these challenges. And there is certainly something to that. But it is also the case that these are conversations that take place within the Jewish community too. As a congregational Rabbi, often engaging with and counseling new parents on the question of circumcision, I know that there is much more involved in this conversation, and desire to have it respectfully and fully. In truth, I have a position and I will share it, and it is in favor of traditional Jewish circumcision. But, as a Reform Rabbi, while I seek to educate about this traditional practice and encourage it, I hold to the principle of ‘informed choice’ which is a hallmark of the Reform movement. Ultimately, I will engage parents and their child, performing rituals of welcome into Jewish community and covenant, both in the traditional context of brit milah (the Jewish ritual of circumcision), or as a baby naming ceremony held after a baby is circumcised in a hospital or, in rare cases, where parents are strongly opposed to circumcision at all.



Just this past weekend, at the end of the first week in my new congregation, I co-officiated with a Mohel (trained and qualified to carry out the circumcision) at a traditional brit milah. The context was one with a Jewish and non-Jewish parent, committed to involvement in Jewish community life. For the non-Jewish relatives, this was a new experience, and certainly one that caused anxiety. The mohel, with over 26 years experience, did an expert job of explaining what was happening, how babies respond to medical procedures, and contextualizing the ritual in its historic and halachic (Jewish legal) framework. For sure, everyone was relieved when the act was done, as is only natural; the baby’s only griping was prior to any procedure, in protest to having his legs held still by his grandfather, but the explanations and additional blessings also provided a great deal of comfort.

As the Mohel explained, there are good, medical reasons for waiting until the eighth day for a circumcision; something that our ancestors thousands of years ago may have learned by observation – for the little amount of bleeding that takes place, by the eighth day the natural process of blood clotting has fully developed in an infant. For those who choose to have a circumcision in a hospital, it often takes place before mother and child go home, much sooner. And it is done behind closed doors, with a doctor and nurse. Having had a congregant in my last congregation who was a specialist in this area invite me one day to watch him perform such a circumcision (for a non-Jewish infant) in the hospital, I know that great expertise is brought in both cases. But a mohel who has performed numerous circumcisions in the presence of an infant’s most intimate family certainly brings nothing less than great care and gentleness to every moment of the ritual.

For those who choose not to circumcise their son at all, wanting the child to decide for themselves when they are old enough to make an informed decision, I cannot authentically provide an argument that will conclusively deny their concerns of inflicting pain or carrying out a medically ‘unnecessary’ procedure on their child. I disagree with them – I have not witnessed an infant expressing more than very brief discomfort at a circumcision (discomfort that can be due to having their legs held still, and not necessarily from the procedure itself – most Reform-trained mohels use some kind of numbing agent prior to the procedure) – and I believe there is medical evidence to indicate greater health in this area later in life if circumcised. I also know that is a much more complex procedure later in life, with a much, much longer healing period following. But, ultimately, this is a question of belief for some parents. Jewish faith, and a heritage that commands this act of us, is also, ultimately, a belief.

I hope that the German, secular, courts, do not take further action to intervene and interfere on this matter. But I remain open to having honest and compassionate conversations about circumcision.

Taking Jewish Public on the Gymnast's Mat: Aly Raisman

cross-posted at http://www.popjewish.com
Last Sunday, when the USA gymnastic team for the Olympics was announced, 

Aly Raisman, 18, became a member of that team. Having just moved to 

Massachusetts, my ears pricked up when I heard that she was a native of Needham, MA.

Interviewed on local tv, she shared the moment when they announced the team members: 

“I was really, really emotional, way more than I thought I would be,” said Raisman after 

being named to the Olympic squad. “I thought I would maybe tear up a little bit  but I 

didn’t think I’d hyperventilate like that. I couldn’t even breathe. It was such a special moment

 and I’m so honoured and so excited.”

Prior to this week, she was perhaps best known for performing a routine at the 

2011 World Gymnastics Championships in Tokyo, Japan, for which she won 

a bronze medal. And the music that her moves were choreographed to? 

Hava Nagila. In the film of that performance, below, you can hear the commentators 

adding their thoughts about the music, and the way it energizes both the athlete a

nd the audience supporting her.

As reported by the JTA back in 2011, Aly also explained that she was proud 

of the inclusion of this music in her repertoire “because there aren’t too many 

Jewish elites out there.”

Wikipedia hosts a page of Jews who have made it in sports - I don't know how 

accurate it is, but its a good source to get a sense of the scope and nationalities 

of those who fit that bill.  Among them is Kerri Strug, who is a bronze medal 

winner in the Olympics.

For the past six years, as part of the closing ritual with my Eighth grade class at 

Religious School, we have read some excerpts from the book dedicated to the 

memory of Daniel Pearl, 'I am Jewish.'  Following these readings from a broad

 range of voices, each student writes their own brief paragraph to express 

their own sense of Jewish identity, and we close the year by listening to each 

other around a circle as we share these expressions. I always include Kerri Strug 

among them.  The overall theme of our year has been looking at the many ways to 

express our Jewishness, and the many faces of Judaism.  In a field like gymnastics, 

Kerri expresses her awareness of how unusual it appears to be Jewish, and how 

surprised people are when they learn this about her.  It is something, therefore, that 

she is proud to share; a way to break peoples' stereotypes. Now I can add Aly Raisman 

to that ritual.

Good luck in this year's Olympics Aly!

Reform Women Rabbis Being Heard

Cross-posted at the Rabbis Without Borders Blog at myjewishlearning.com

In the midst of much activity in Israel in the ongoing push to ensure that women are not silenced or made invisible in newspaper media or public advertising, the celebration of a Reform woman rabbi winning a Supreme Court case to receive public funding, and the ongoing travails of the Women of the Wall seeking the right to pray in peace at the Kotel – the Western Wall in Jerusalem – there is much to write about these days about women and Judaism.  And there is plenty to say about female leadership in Jewish community, both lay and professional.

Rabbi Sally Priesand

Launched less than a month ago, Kol Isha: Reform Women Rabbis Speak Out, is a new blog that provides a new vehicle for Women Rabbis to reflect on their own experiences as female clergy, and reflect on these larger issues that affect women’s’ experience in the wider Jewish world.

Kol Isha is Hebrew for ‘Voice of a Woman’.  It is a contested concept intraditional Jewish law, whereby a man cannot hear the voice of a woman, but even in traditional circles there is much debate as to the specific times and contexts to which this precept applies. Is it at all times, just in prayer, only for certain categories of prayer, or just when singing, for example. Among progressive Jews, equality of genders has overridden this precept, as it has in many contemporary societies.

Why just Reform Women Rabbis? The blog was launched as a project of the Women’s Rabbinic Network – an auxiliary of the Central Conference of American Rabbis, the official body representing Reform Rabbis in the USA.

The first blog was posted on June 3rd – the precise date of the ordination of the first woman Rabbi in the USA, Sally Priesand.  Sally guest posted the first blog.  There are about 30 women Rabbis now providing daily postings, many of whom are blogging for the first time.  Just as with this blog, we Rabbis who blog have found that this medium provides an effective way of getting beyond the borders of our own local communities, sharing our voices and reflections on Jewish wisdom, culture, spirituality, and life with an audience that is literally global.  I know from the stats on this blog, that I have readers from South Africa, Israel, Russia, Argentina, Great Britain, Spain, as well as from all over the USA.  I also know from comments and private email correspondence that I have both Jewish and non-Jewish readers.  I’ve met people who have attended programs that I’ve run in the community who have told me that they came to their first Jewish event with me after many years of no explicit Jewish connection, after having read my blog for several months.  And I’ve had individuals reach out to me with pastoral needs online, in response to something that I wrote that they found on my blog.

So, what are our women Rabbis writing about?  Well, go and take a look for yourself.  But among the topics covered in these past couple of weeks, there are reflections on body image, relating to our teenage girls, balancing work and family life, pregnancy and miscarriage, supporting a sick child, leaving congregational positions, being a chaplain to the prison population, and several reflections on 40 years of women in the Rabbinate.

While most women who are Rabbis will tell you that, in the work they do in their communities, they are ‘Rabbis’ and not ‘Women Rabbis’, there is no question that women have transformed the face of the rabbinate in more than just its appearance.  Just looking at the topics above, this is clear.  In being true to the essence of who we are, we cannot leave any one piece of our identities behind, and our gender informs how we live in this world, what we see and experience, and how we relate to others.

Forty years on, we celebrate the place of women in the Rabbinate, we reflect on the journey and where we still hope to go, and we share our experiences and insights.

Nora Ephron: A Look at the Reflections

Cross-posted at a new blog - http://www.popjewish.com/ Contributions from Rabbis from across the denominations - check it out!

There is no question that, from the perspective of a consumer of popular culture, the most important thing to say about the passing of Nora Ephron is that a great writer, with a great eye and sharp wit for observing daily life, has left us. I'm sure for her family the most important thing to say is that a sister/mother/wife has left their world. After reading the obituary in the NY Times, and then Abigail Pogrebin's intimate and charming reflection in The Forward, I was struck by the complete absence of mention of her Jewish identity in the former followed by a fascinating claim to her being 'utterly Jewish' in the latter. Pogrebin interviewed Ephron for her 2003 book, 'Stars of David: Prominent Jews Talk About Being Jewish': She said she thought of herself “as a Jew, but not Jewish.” She wasn’t in denial about her Jewish identity, just indifferent to it...

Later in her article, Pogrebin shares: "She was relieved her two boys didn’t request bar mitzvahs. “First of all, because of my feelings about religion, and second of all, because they’re so expensive, and third of all, because nothing is more awful than a divorced bar mitzvah.”

And yet, Pogrebin concludes: "For all her Jewish disconnection, she felt utterly Jewish to me."

I think I know what she means - how can you watch 'When Harry met Sally', especially with the ever-so-Jewish Billy Crystal, and not feel a Jewish sensibility and wit oozing from the script? I listened to her book, 'I remember nothing: and other reflections' as an audio book about a year ago. While I don't recall any explicitly Jewish content, there was no mistaking (just as there is no mistaking listening to Woody Allen) that these were the words of Jewish woman.

For Ephron, 'Jewish' was a cultural label she owned but did not put in the top five list of labels she would use to describe herself, and it certainly was not a religious framework that she consciously lived by and engaged in.

I find myself reflecting on the way we Jews like to list and identify with our people; especially our people who have left a mark on our world or our cultural consciousness. It is not unique to us, by any means - a quick glance on Amazon.com reveals many collections of books about remarkable Christians, men and women. Yet, when I read Pogrebin's touching reflection, I am left with a sadness about the Jewish experiences of Nora Ephron. That the worst excesses of bar mitzvah are what come to mind as the quintessential Jewish ritual, gratefully avoided, points to an absence that is deeper than the choice to observe or not observe Jewish rituals. I'm not interested in ritual for its own sake, only as a vessel for significant spiritual reflection and expression and, in the context of Judaism, especially as a communal activity. Those are things that are hard to express in language, and so some of the rituals and traditions of Judaism provide a shared vocabulary through which we can not only make space in our lives for such experiences, but share them with others too.

Perhaps if Pogrebin hadn't written a piece about Nora Ephron being 'utterly Jewish', I would have just read the NY Times obit and would be focused solely on that which Nora herself would probably prefer we pay attention to - her incredible legacy of writing and her ability to make us laugh at ourselves, time and time again. But when I reflect on the Jewishness that is expressed in Pogrebin's piece, I begin to think about expressions of the spiritual life. And I don't think its even a sadness that I might have as a Rabbi that it wasn't Jewish in the traditional sense of observance. I think its more that I am left wondering how the spiritual life was lived and expressed altogether. Because, ultimately, that is what feels like an essential part of human existence to me, and that is why I'm doing what I do, and my hope is that Nora had some way of accessing and expressing that too, especially in the last difficult months of her life.

Blessings beyond Borders - an interfaith tale

Last Saturday evening I was given an opportunity to be part of a truly wonderful celebration - the Sweet 16 party of a very special young woman.  As I explained to the guests gathered there that evening, this was an evening of firsts for me.  We don't really make much of the 16th birthday in the UK, probably because 18 is not so far away.  In the UK, 18 takes on greater significance as it is the legal drinking age.  So last Saturday was my first ever Sweet Sixteen party.  Another new and special part of the experience for me was that this Sweet 16 was celebrated Puerto Rican style.  As I learned in preparing for the event, there are variations on the rituals that have become associated with this celebration - Brazilians, Mexicans, Puerto Ricans, and other Latin American countries all utilize slightly different symbolic acts and objects to represent the transition into womanhood.  Traditionally, these events took place at the age of 15, and so the celebration would be called a Quinceanera.  In North America, the celebration has often shifted to the age of 16, influenced by North American Sweet Sixteen celebrations.  At the celebration I attended, two key ritual moments involved replacing a ribbon in the young woman's hair with a tiara, and a pair of flat shoes with high heels.  Another part of the tradition is for a priest to offer a blessing, often presenting a bible and a crucifix necklace.  And this is where I came in.

The young woman in question is Muslim.  Desiring to celebrate her Puerto Rican cultural roots, but minus the religious traditions of Catholicism, it might have been challenging to involve either a Priest or an Imam.  Much of the family was practicing Catholic, and many of the women from the Islamic community were present for the celebration too.  It was a wonderful interfaith and intercultural gathering in and of itself.  But why add a Rabbi to the mix?

I was invited to offer a blessing at this particular Sweet 16 after getting to know this young woman these past two years through our Tent of Abraham interfaith activities.  We had met on several occasions - adult and teen discussion programs, Rosh Hodesh group and Muslim women's study and celebration gatherings, and Iftar (evening break fast) during Ramadan.   And so it was that, in the week leading up to the celebration we spoke on the phone.  In preparing some words of blessing, I asked her to reflect on significant moments in her life up until now that seemed to her to have shaped her life and her faith.  She spoke of her father's death at an early age, and later reflecting more deeply on taking responsibility in the world during a time that her mother was unwell.  She spoke of the values that were most important to her - trust, loyalty, compassion, friendship.  She spoke of her belief in one God, who could be addressed and experienced directly by every person.  These words and more were the sentiments that I reflected back to her.  In the mix, as per a request from her and her mother, I explained how the rituals and the celebration compared with Jewish coming-of-age ceremonies.  Just as the evening was filled with many firsts for me (I even began with a few sentences of Spanish - a language I have never studied or spoken before - thanks to the assistance of one of our Puerto Rican staff at the synagogue!), I explained that I was sure that the presence of a Rabbi to offer the blessing was a first for everyone there.  It became an opportunity to learn from and about each other.

In the mix was the Priestly Blessing, an English interpretative rendition by Debbie Friedman, a Rashi interpretation on the blessing, and a blessing over the food sung in Aramaic and English. In just 5 minutes I had the opportunity to share some rich Jewish traditions and prayers with many who may never or rarely had any direct experience of Judaism before.  This was taking Jewish wisdom public in a whole new context.  These were blessings beyond borders.  It certainly was a blessing for me to attend and participate in this wonderful young woman's special evening.
Rabbi Rachel Gurevitz

Snapshots of Congregation B'nai Israel

This sermon was delivered on Shabbat, June 1st, as a reflection on serving Congregation B'nai Israel for the past six years.  I will be moving on to Congregation B'nai Shalom in Westborough, MA, beginning July 1st.  I will continue to blog at this address.

Rabbi Prosnit often jokes, upon returning to lead services the first Shabbat after taking a vacation that ‘this will be the ‘what the Rabbi saw on his vacation’ sermon.’  But, while we get the joke, the sermons are always insightful and I always see the world in a new light or learn something new from listening to those reflections.  Because Rabbi Prosnit, who I have learned so much from these past six years, knows that a good friend does not make you endure a sitting of the 875 photos that they took on their holiday; rather, they pre-select a handful of the most unique and memorable moments worthy of sharing.

 When I’ve been on a journey and return with my collection of snap-shots, I tend not to be the kind of traveler who has images like ‘there’s me in city X’, or ‘there’s me next to statue Y’.  I like to take in the scene, and learn from the unfolding of the human or natural scene before me.  I want you to see what I saw through my eyes when I was there.  And that’s what I want to do this evening.  This isn’t the ‘What I’ve learned about being a Rabbi’ sermon.  This is the ‘This is what Jewish community looks and feels like’ sermon.  I’ve sifted through thousands of days, scenes and moments from the past 6 years here at B’nai Israel.  Too many to count and too many to do justice to all of you, what you have created together, and how you have inspired me.  All I can do is select a few snapshots.  This is my mini photo-montage of my journey with Congregation B’nai Israel – the memories that I take with me, created by each and every one of you.

Shabbat morning minyan

The first picture is a little out-of-focus.  That’s because I’m still rather bleary-eyed at 8am.  As many of you know, I’m not a morning person.  But, such an incredibly unique and blessed community is our Shabbat morning 8am minyan that I believe that I’d be a regular attendee even if I didn’t have to get up to the lead the service.  Cantor Blum knows that when I lean over to her just before we start the service and say, ‘let’s sing ‘Open up our eyes’ before the Shema this morning,’ that I need a little extra help fully awakening to the day that week.

In this slightly blurred snap-shot, you’ll see a teenager reading Torah on the anniversary of their bar or bat mitzvah.  Or perhaps one of the many adult Torah leyners we have up at the reading desk.  If you notice that the shot looks a little more blurred where their hand holds the yad – the Torah pointer – its because sometimes they get nervous.  But they do it anyway, and they inspire others, from time to time, to step up and say that they are ready to have a go.

But I also want you to take in the scene at the back of the chapel.  There’s a couple of rows of women – they are some of our senior members.  They are there every week.  They’ve been through a lot; losses and challenges in life.  But they are there for each other, and they help each other get through.  And they didn’t stop praying.  In fact, its after some of those losses and challenges that they began.  Seeing them there, praying together, helps me to pray.

Our teenagers

In the next snap-shot its hard to pick out what to focus on.  Actually, unless you were there, its hard to tell from the image what exactly is going on – it’s a group of teenagers and the scene looks a bit chaotic.  Its hard to tell what they are doing, but you can see from the laughs on their faces that everyone is having fun.  This is a Monday night during my class with our Eighth Graders.  You know, its not an accident that I’ve spent 6 years running the 8^th grade program.  It wasn’t intended as Rabbi Prosnit’s version of hazing the new Assistant Rabbi.  Its actually the gift that I received from our Educator, Ira Wise.  We value our teens, and bar and bat mitzvah is not a destination, its just one stop on the journey.  And when one of your Rabbis is responsible for teaching the 8^th grade its because we really care and we want you to be a part of it. 

In my photo, on this particular night, things look a bit different because it’s the night when members of BIFTY, our Youth Group, come storming in and ‘kidnap’ my students for night to give them a taste of our High School youth group community that they will be invited to become a part of that night.  I’ll tell you what I see in this picture, and what awes me every time.  A group of teenagers – 14, 15, 16 year olds maybe.  And some of those kids were my 8^th grade middle class students just last year.  And tonight they are leaders.  They are team-building, and they are instructing and guiding, and they are helping and including.  And I get a glimpse of something that is so much more powerful than just fun and games.  I get a glimpse of the remarkable young people in our congregation; not only may they be the leaders of our community in the future – they are our leaders today. 

I see them in BIFTY, I see them at Merkaz.  And they inspire me and give me hope.

Nursery and young children

The next picture is one of the few places in the synagogue building where I feel tall.  There are some adults in the room – a couple of teachers and our Pre-School Director, Alexa Cohen.  But I’m feeling tall because I’m in a pre-school classroom with a class of 4 year old children.  We’ve got our hands and legs stretched out in all different directions (demonstrate).  We’re being trees.  Because its almost Tu Bishvat – the festival of trees.  Tu Bishvat often falls in February and so, when I come in and ask them what special holiday is coming up soon, I’ve learned not to be surprised when they tell me ‘Valentine’s Day’. 

In fact, its very helpful when they remind me that 3 and 4 years take in everything from the world around us.  It reminds me that being a Rabbi today means that we always have to respond to the times and the culture that our community is living in.  We can’t stand still, and we have to make the ancient Jewish rituals, holidays and wisdom relevant in today’s world.  That’s what Rabbi Nicole Wilson-Spiro has done in providing a weekly Shabbat morning Young Families Chavurah which combines a totally contemporary take on parenting Jewish children with the gift of family time on Shabbat.  And that’s what Elaine Chetrit does with our elementary-aged children on Friday evening at Mishpacha Shabbat.  Celebrating with these groups gives me joy.

Adult learners

If the next shot looks a little unfamiliar and a little… Christian… that’s because we’re at a Retreat Center on the CT shoreline.  30 women have gathered for a one day retreat.  Its probably the most intensive kind of adult learning experience that I’ve taken a snap-shot of, but I could have chosen so many others, with men and women, experienced learners and complete beginners, figuring out their relationship with Jewish community, traditions, ethics, and taking a look at what they believe, what inspires them, and what feeds their spirit and their soul.  Some are engaging in the hardest kind of learning of all – being complete beginners at Hebrew with Elaine, or the festivals and other basics in the Parent Learning Circle. 

Its not easy being a beginner at something when we’re adults and so accomplished in other areas of life.  But the snap-shot of the retreat will always stay with me.  Its partly that the setting is so beautiful.  Its also a place where I’ve worked and led services with my soul partner and master teacher of creativity – Suri.  But more than that, it’s the deep sharing and connecting that is so beautiful; its what’s possible when we dispense with the ‘small talk’ and engage in ‘big talk’ with each other.  This snap-shot is full of spiritual awakenings.  Learning with these adults nourishes my spirit.

Board/committees/lay leadership

I wasn’t actually present for this next snap-shot.  But it’s a group of people with charts and to-do lists in front of them.  The photo may not look very exciting – a group of people sat around a table, talking and planning.  Everyone has something to contribute and everyone is pitching in with their particular skill set and passion.  Some of these people knew each other before this photo was taken. But some are meeting for the first time, or getting to know each other better.  They are planning a big party, and by all accounts, they did an amazing job!  But while I have and continue to thank everyone who had a hand in an incredible gala this year, this kind of scene at our Temple is just a touch-stone for all of the lay leadership that makes things happen around here each and every day. 

Committees who are doing our caring work, visioning the future of our Religious school education, helping with our family-focused celebrations and mitzvah day, making sure that we can pay our bills, and helping our amazing facilities manager, Abby Rohinsky, with all the juggling of activities, tasks and maintenance involved in running a place like this.  And then, our course, there is our Board and Executive.

I’ve worked here under three Presidencies – Richard Krantz, Amy Rich, and Mark Kirsch.  And now Mindy Siegel prepares to take up the reigns.  Each so different in their styles, and each so delightful to partner with in our work here.  Countless people who, even if its just to do one thing one time, step up to offer of themselves to make this holy community happen.  We couldn’t do it without members and their financial support.  But that isn’t enough.  We couldn’t do it without a quality professional staff.  But that isn’t enough. 

Just as in the Torah Moses asks for contributions to build the Mishkan – the place where God will dwell among them – from those whose hearts move them, so those who volunteer of themselves are giving from their hearts to create this place where God dwells among us.  When I look at this snap-shot I am inspired to work harder and offer more too.

Tonight

The final snap-shot hasn’t been taken yet.  I’d like to break with sanctuary protocol just this once and take it now.  Its all of you.  

When I arrived, I sang a short blessing at my installation.  So taken was I by the warm welcome I received when I arrived 6 years ago, and by my sense of genuine caring and community that I felt here, I adapted a blessing that is traditionally said when you see beautiful and amazing things in nature.  The blessing says, ‘Blessed are You Eternal our God Ruler of the Universe, who has such as these in Your world.’  This is a beautiful snap-shot that I see before me, and you have been my blessing.  Baruch Ata Adonai Eloheinu Melech Ha-olam, Shecacha lo b’olama, shecacha lo b’olamo.  Amen, Selah.  Thank you.

Conquering the monsters beneath our bed... where the wild things really are

Cross-posted from the Rabbis Without Borders Blog at myjewishlearning.com

I want to share the chorus of one of my favorite Indigo Girls songs with you:
So we’re ok, we’re fine, baby I’m here to stop your crying
Chase all the ghosts from your head,
I’m stronger than the monsters beneath your bed
Smarter than the tricks played on your heart,
we’ll look at them together then we’ll take them apart
Adding up the total of a love that’s true,
Multiply life by the Power of Two (words and music, The Indigo Girls, ‘Power of Two’)

This has been something of a theme song in my life, these past 11 or 12 years. Ever since I met the woman who, two years ago, became my spouse. In fact, we even incorporated the last two lines of the chorus into the Ketubah that we crafted with an artist-friend.

This past week, a great deal in the flow of the news cycle has caught my attention. Thinking about the monsters beneath our beds, or perhaps ‘where the wild things are’, it was notable that Maurice Sendak passed away this week at the age of 83. Hearing the news, I went online and watched his PBS interview with Bill Moyers from a few years back, and then the very different but quite entertaining interview that Stephen Colbert conducted with him just a few months ago. It was in the PBS interview that Sendak explained that the wild things were somewhat inspired by his first generation immigrant Jewish relatives – the aunts and uncles who had escaped Europe while they could still get in but, to a young child, were grotesque caricatures.

I know the ones he meant – they were probably just like the great-aunts and cousins, once-removed, that I remember –the ones with the lipstick that was painted so high that it almost touched their nose, the bright blue eye shadow and long, red nails. And the great-uncles with the hair growing out of their noses and ears. While Sendak lived his life as a secular Jew, he was clearly informed by that family history.

He speaks with Moyers about the courage it takes for a child to look the scary things in the eye and, in so doing, to be able to take back control not only of one’s fears, but of one’s anger. He had an uncanny ability to write from within the psyche of a child and paint the inner landscapes of their minds in vivid detail that they could so deeply relate to.

In the interview that Sendak gave recently with Colbert he mentions that he is also a gay man. Colbert, in his tongue-in-cheek but straight-faced manner, exclaims, ‘they won’t let you be a Boy Scout leader, but they’ll let you write children’s books?!’

While I certainly appreciate the joke, I found my mind considering the juxtaposition of Sendak’s ‘where the wild things are’ and another story that we saw being played out in the cultural and political sphere last week when first Vice-President Biden and then President Obama voiced their personal support of the GLBT community and of same-sex marriage. Sendak’s most famous children’s story can provide a means for young children to look at the monsters and many other things in life that scare them and, perhaps, to realize that they are not really scary after all. While for Biden, we might be amused by the influence of Will and Grace to make the scary and unfamiliar into something accessible and much more normative, it is the President’s words that most effectively demonstrated how we combat homophobia and those who feel strongly that civil equality should not be afforded to those whose love is not of the heterosexual kind:

‘I have to tell you that, over the years, as I talk to friends, and family, and neighbors, as I speak with my own staff who are in committed and monogamous same-sex relationships, who are raising kids together, when I think of those soldiers, or airmen or marines, sailors who are out there fighting on my behalf, and yet feel constrained, even though ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ is gone because they are not able to commit themselves in a marriage, at a certain point I’ve just concluded that, for me personally, it is important for me to go ahead and affirm that I think same-sex couples should be able to get married.’

The President voices what we know to be true about many things in life, and not only same-sex marriage: so often, fear is born out of ignorance. Once we get to know someone who is different from us, whether it be difference due to a physical disability, a religion, an ethnicity, and so on… we find that the world is a much more complex, colorful, and diverse place. We learn to see the partial truths in multiple perspectives. We learn, and in learning, like Max who stares into the yellows of the eyes of the wild things and does not blink, we confront our fears.

Some of the fears that have been voiced about permitting same-sex marriage include fears about how children are raised, fears about how the institution of marriage is understood, fears about the authority of some churches and other more traditional branches of religious faith groups. But, with the exception of the strongly held beliefs of some faith groups whose legitimate concerns arise out of their understanding of their faith teachings, getting to know people – people in our families, our communities, it becomes abundantly clear that these are not the monsters beneath our bed – these fears are not grounded in reality. And for those who are guided by a faith that appears incompatible with the President’s personal statement, it is important to consider whether such beliefs should be applied to civil rights on behalf of the entire population, many of whom are guided by different (and sometimes also religiously-informed) beliefs.

But I have other fears. My fears are borne out of conversations I’ve had with both adults and, even more heart-wrenching, with teenagers, who have shared their pain when they believe that society has taught them that their sexual identity and their religious identity or spirituality are incompatible. They’ve told me that the message they’ve received is that God hates them. Parents who tell me that they fear for their children and are so terribly afraid that their lives will be that much more difficult because they are homosexual. Some of these fears, too, are based on not knowing, and we can confront and learn to crown ourselves king over these too. But I am so terribly saddened that these are some of the messages that have been internalized from our political and cultural landscape.

This is why it is so important that the President and Vice President made the statements that they made. It is why it is important for people to speak out, and write articles, affirming the holiness of being true to our innermost selves, showing that faith and love do go together.

When Max realizes that he has conquered the wild things, he gets back in his little boat and returns to his bedroom, where he finds a hot meal is waiting. What stronger symbol of the unconditional love between a mother and her child can there be? For, once we have conquered the monsters beneath our bed, we come to understand the Power of Two – its all about looking each other in the eye, its all about relationships, and its all about love.

Counting up and Counting down

We are four weeks into the Counting of the Omer, the period of seven weeks between Passover and Shavuot. Once a time of waiting as grain grew in fields, ready for harvesting at Shavuot, this period of time later became interpreted as a time of personal growth.  We move not only from the experience but also the mindset of slavery, to the moment of Revelation at Mount Sinai, understood as a God-encounter where we can be at our most spiritually expansive; exhibited through a refinement of character traits and behaviors that see our actions most aligned with our values and beliefs.

The tradition of Counting the Omer is a practice of counting each day as we reach sundown.  But while each day brings us closer to the festival, the ritual asks that we count up and not count down.  Perhaps this is purely pragmatic.  Shavuot is the only biblically-ordained festival that is not provided with a specific date on a specific month but, rather, is described as seven weeks after Passover.  So we count up until we hit seven.  Perhaps the counting is also symbolic - the sense of moving upward as in a spiritual ascent, just as Moses ascended Mt. Sinai for the Revelation encounter.  But perhaps, also, the upward counting is a way of reminding us to keep moving forward.  Sometimes our life experiences see us looking back, trying to hold on to something that is gone.  We experience the pain of loss, as we should when we lose something, but sometimes the pain stays with us so much longer because of our inability to notice what is right in front of us today.  When we count the Omer, before reciting the formula for announcing this day, we number the previous day.  So, when announcing the arrival of the third day, we would say aloud 'yesterday was the second day' and then, after the blessing for counting the Omer, we announce 'today is the third day of the Omer'.  We recognize that we are formed by our  past experiences, but then we affirm the newness of this day - we will not be defined or limited by our past.  We face today as a new opportunity, with new potential for growth and spiritual expression.

This year, as I count the Omer, I am aware of my own journeying, and the tendencies to look back or look forward, but sometimes forgetting to treasure this very day.  Not long after Shavuot I will be journeying, from Congregation B'nai Israel in Bridgeport CT to Congregation B'nai Shalom in Westborough, MA.  It is a bitter-sweet time.  Looking back, I find myself trying not to count or notice that there is one day less left at B'nai Israel.  It has been such a wonderful spiritual home these past six years, and it is not easy to leave.  And yet, I am thrilled to have been given the opportunity to serve Congregation B'nai Shalom, and each time I return for another visit and meet more people, my enthusiasm grows.  I begin to imagine the work we will do there together.

Looking back... and looking forward... and sometimes forgetting to notice this moment and this day.
Hayom shloshim yom, sh'hem arba'ah shavuot u-shnei yamim la'omer. 
Today is the thirtieth day, making four weeks and two days of the Omer.

#BlogExodus, Nisan 13: Who asks the questions and who provides the answers?

As we sit down at our Seder tables this year we repeat, as we do every year, the words that remind us that it is important for us to remember the exodus from Egypt as if we, ourselves, experienced it.  If we engage in the ritual of the Passover Seder as more than just another family meal, we find a whole toolbox laid out in the manual we call the Haggadah, that can help us to do this.  There are tastes, there are words and stories, there are questions and (sometimes) there are answers (but it is the search that is more important than the answers themselves).  There are songs and, if we choose, there is storytelling through acting, reminiscing, the young asking the old, and the old asking the young.

The haggadah tells us that we have to find a way to make the experience of gaining freedom from slavery come alive for each and every generation.  This is not only to ensure that we don’t forget our heritage and our story; it is also because some of the early generations of Rabbis who crafted this ritual understood that the way Jews related to this story in one generation or in one era would be different to the ways that it worked for Jews of another time.

The meaning and the purpose of Passover has changed over the centuries – it fulfilled a different need for us at different times.  Once it was an agricultural celebration.  At other times it was a story of hope when we were oppressed and discriminated against.  In the last generation in the USA it became a vehicle for Jews now living freely to speak about their obligations to help free others from their shackles, giving birth to Haggadot that focused on civil rights, women’s rights, the environment, and more.

What will Passover mean for the next generation? What ‘job’ will it do that adds significant meaning to their lives? It might have something to do with autonomy or the ability to feel like they can still make a difference in an era of powerful corporations and the undue influence of money.  It might be the freedom to make different kinds of lifestyle choices.  It might mean a psycho-spiritual kind of freedom that comes from within.  It might inspire them to engage in local or worldwide social justice actions to help free others. We don’t know what the next generation will dream. 

But, while the Passover has traditionally always been a time when the youngest ask the adults the questions so that they will understand where they come from and the inheritance that is theirs, it is essential that we adults ask our children questions too.  If we want them to imagine that it is they, themselves who are leaving the slavery of Egypt, we need to ask them what that means to them.

You can do this with children of any age, but I especially encourage those with teenagers or young adults at their Passover table this year to ask the question, as I will be doing this year at my Seder.  I am confident that your Seder will be transformed into an interesting and important conversation, and I’d love to hear what you learn from our next generations.

#BlogExodus, Nisan 9: Springtime as Freedom-time

I've missed a few days of #BlogExodus blogging, but the great thing about a project that involves many people, is that you can read lots of other great blogs on each and every day of this month of Nisan/lead-up to Pesach project.  You can track them all on Twitter by searching for #BlogExodus, but here are just a small selection from the past few days:
On 'Cleaning' check out this procrastinator's musings.
On 'Slavery', a reminder that it is still real today, and not just a symbolic matter.
On 'Freedom', check out The Huffington Post.
The 7th of Nisan focused on 'Redemption' - take a look at a more personal reflection here.
The 8th of Nisan turned to themes of 'Courage and Faith' - here is a thoughtful reflection on bullying

And so now we've reached the 9th of Nisan and our theme today is 'Spring'.  The following is my Passover message for our local weekly newspaper consortium, Hersam-Acorn, in print in several local towns this coming week:

Is it mere coincidence that the Jewish festival of Passover, beginning this Friday eve, April 6^th, falls in the early weeks of Springtime? The answer is ‘no’, both from a historical perspective but also from a symbolic perspective.  Historically, several scholars suggest that there was a pre-existing Springtime celebration before the Jewish people assigned Passover and the re-telling of the exodus from Egypt to this time in the calendar.  In fact, we see hints of this earlier celebration embedded in the Exodus story itself.  Exodus, chapter five begins: ‘And afterward Moses and Aaron came, and said to Pharaoh: 'Thus says the Eternal, the God of Israel: Let My people go, that they may hold a feast for Me in the wilderness.'   Spring is the season of new flowers and buds appearing in nature, and it is the lambing season. The centrality of the sacrifice of a lamb just before the tenth and final plague that led to the Hebrew slaves being allowed to go free may well have been related to an earlier celebration where a first-born of the new flock was offered up in thanksgiving.

Today we do not sacrifice animals as part of the Passover celebration; instead a shankbone is placed as one of the symbols on a Seder plate that takes center stage in the home-based ceremony held in Jewish homes all over the world to mark the beginning of the holiday.  Another symbol of fertility and new life is also found on this plate – an egg (a Spring time symbol shared by our Christian neighbors at Easter).

But Spring time remains deeply symbolic as a time not only of new birth, but struggles for freedom from oppression over the centuries, new hope and new possibilities.  We may be most familiar with the recent waves of unrest and uprisings against dictatorial leaders in the Middle East, dubbed ‘the Arab Spring’.  These movements did not literally begin during Springtime, but commentators quickly adopted the phrase that can be traced back to the 1800s.  Ben Zimmer, author of www.visualthesaurus.com, finds the earliest usage with a German philosopher, Ludwig Borne, in 1818.  Referring to several European revolutions in the mid-1800s, in French the phrase used was printemps des peuples (springtime of the peoples) and, in English, ‘The People’s Springtime’.

What is common to both the current socio-political changes, the European revolutions, and the Biblical Exodus is that the journey from slavery to freedom is never straightforward.  We are much more certain about what we are seeking freedom from but it usually takes a lot longer to know what we will do with our freedom.  For the Hebrews it took forty years of wandering in the wilderness but, along the journey they created a covenant with God that provided them with laws and structures for creating a new society in a new land, where time and again they were reminded not to oppress others, because they had once been slaves in Egypt.  This is a message that we all need to hear, year after year, precisely because it is so easy to forget the greater purpose of freedom once we have the power to choose our own path.

This Springtime, in the weeks following Passover, the Jewish community is joining together with Christian, Muslim, and Hindu brothers and sisters for an ‘Interfaith Spring’ on Sunday, April 29^th.  Together we will both celebrate and remember our obligation to care for our natural world, joining to clean up the Greater Bridgeport area.  We begin with a BBQ at Rodeph Shalom at 1 p.m., taking interfaith groups to work in cleaning up the city for the afternoon, and returning at 4.30 for more music and celebration.  To join us, please email  rabbivictor@rodephsholom.com