A week ago this past Friday (sorry for being so slow to put up the post, but Happy belated Thanksgiving, everyone!) a fellow NATE intern Michael and I made the trek to New Jersey to celebrate Shabbat at Ted's home congregation, Temple Sholom. The congregation immediately felt very homey: the service was in a small but cozy chapel, and everyone who passed by us wished us Shabbat Shalom, of course greeting Ted especially enthusiastically as he is beloved by all who go there!
This visit definitely emphasized what I have known all along about different congregations, that even ones that belong to the same movement of the same religion can have unique elements that distinguish them from similar congregations. Temple Sholom was, I think, the most similar to my home congregation out of all the synagogues I've been to in recent memory. Both places are warm and welcoming, with a strong sense of community. The services include plenty of English, with both Rabbis clearly passionate about what they are saying and directly engaging with the congregation in an interactive and meaningful way (and not just saying that because both of them are followers of this blog!!) However, despite numerous similarities, there are still very definite differences between the two places.
The most notable difference to me was the lack of instrumental accompaniment to the prayers we sang. Ted and I have discussed the use of music in services fairly frequently; while I enjoy it for the most part and feel as though it is almost essential in the Reform services I attend, I know that he is not a fan. The experience was interesting to me though, because many of the melodies at Temple Sholom were the ones that are used in my home congregation, and it felt strange to be singing them without piano or guitar in the background holding everything and everyone together. I feel that music would have added something to many of the songs and enhanced the prayer experience, but I can assume from the conversations that Ted and I have had that it would not have had the same effect for him. It is intriguing how congregations that are so alike can go down separate roads and establish such different traditions that, in turn, influence how their members perceive assorted aspects of Jewish practice. I wonder, if the congregation in which I grew up did not use music in its services, would I still feel as though music was an important part of Shabbat? I'd still like music outside of temple, clearly, but would a service still feel incomplete without it?
Another major difference is that at Temple Sholom, they chant Torah every Friday evening. When Ted first told me this, I wasn't sure how I felt about it, as at my congregation Torah is usually chanted on Friday evenings only for a special occasion. However, I found that I really enjoyed having a brief Torah service as part of my Shabbat evening experience. Often, I do not experience the Torah portion of the week or hear commentary on it, and doing so during the service definitely enhanced my Shabbat and prompted learning and self-reflection. To Ted, it was natural that the Torah would be read, but to Michael and I it was not, as that is not what we are used to. Ted also told us that it is customary at his congregation to wear tallit on Friday night, and while that practice was unfamiliar to me as well, I know that he gains meaning from it.
It was a very interesting experience to be in an environment that was so comparable to the one I am used to, yet established these certain different practices and traditions. It was definitely a real-life example for the concentration I created for myself in college, "Religion and Theater as Text and Interpretation", in which I studied how individuals and communities take the same texts and make them their own throughout time. One might think that Reform congregations of similar sizes with similar environments would celebrate Shabbat in the same ways, but clearly each community practices in its own way. Even the base of the service differed: my congregation created and uses its own siddur (prayerbook), while Ted's uses the Reform siddur but made its own song book that we also read from during the service. However, the order of the service, the melodies and the prayers said were practically the same. While each group has its own customs, ultimately we are united through the words our people have been saying for thousands of years. This also relates to the conversation we had after services about Klal Yisrael, which Ted mentioned in his previous post...I'm sure we will get to that in more depth at some point.
Attending Shabbat services at Temple Sholom provided me a window through which I could see a community very similar to my own observe Shabbat in its own special way, a way that has influenced its members and become significant to them. It was very interesting to see first-hand the congregation Ted comes from, as I have been hearing about it for almost a year now! I think it is very special to be a part of a place that is so beloved, and that has shaped many lives in a profound way. The Shabbat we attended also happened to be an evening honoring long time members of the congregation, and I could see that, though the community is relatively small, each person was very happy to be there, and to have contributed to the synagogue in his or her own unique way throughout many years of membership. My congregation uses the phrase "makom shelibi oheyv", "the place that my heart holds dear" to describe itself, and, despite the differences in the service, that phrase could definitely be applied to Temple Sholom, as well.
Temple Sholom (Reform Jewish congregation)
Located at: 74 South Martine Avenue, Fanwood, NJ 07023
Telephone: 908-889-4900
Service lead by: Rabbi Joel N. Abraham, with singing assistance from lay choir member standing in for Student Cantor
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Friday, November 25, 2011
A Time for Thanks by Ted
Over the last week or so, I have been reminded time and time again just how lucky I am. With Thanksgiving just a day behind us, I think a little reflection is in order.
A week ago, I had my friend and co-creator of this blog Maya, as well as another mutual friend Michael, come in from the city to Jersey to celebrate Shabbat. This was the first time they have come into Jersey, as opposed to me going into the city. It was also the first time they have seen my community and my temple. After the service (Maya will talk about the service experience I believe. I thought it would be a little biased coming from me), we had our usual discussion, what we liked/didn't like about the service, what could have gone better or what was weird, just a regular, post-service talk. As inevitably happens when you combine friends and drinks, we got loud and began to stray from our service discussion to what I have begun to believe is the real reason we get together every few weeks, philosophy/theology and the beliefs about our Judaism. That night's topic, klal Yisrael. The content of that discussion is for another day. There is, however, something else I felt, not completely until we said our goodbyes, that I have been compelled to share.
You see, growing up, and really throughout my entire life up until recently, I never had many Jewish friends. While I was friendly with the kids in my Confirmation class, it was never a social circle I was engaged with outside of the classroom. When I went off to college, I never joined Hillel or any groups or activities. And when I came back to New Jersey from a freshman year in Boston, I picked back up with my friends from high school who I have grown to love. And while, my closest group of friends are beyond loyal and I wouldn't trade them for anything in the world, none of them are Jewish (most are anti-religion all together), and because of such I think they don't always understand what I am doing or why I am doing it. There is a certain communicative and cultural difference that, while they love to argue with me on issues of theology and such, we are divided by.
That is where Maya and Michael have recently been so awesome. I have never really had a friendship like the ones I have with them. Meeting at the NATE conference, all three of us share common interests, life experiences, and aspirations I have never really shared with anyone before. While I am extremely grateful and eternally indebted to people like my Rabbi and mentor/boss Michelle, there is something altogether different about having connections like this with someone your own age. I have people who I can bounce ideas off of, who will question my ideas and beliefs with their own, and who will push me to think about things in ways I never have before.
So, in that spirit, I thought of a fun activity for my students to do last Monday. I provided them with the following article about Thanksgiving and Judaism, taken from Ha-Eretz, an Israeli newspaper (click here). It is a really interesting piece about the values of Thanksgiving and how they intertwine with Jewish values, mainly gratitude. In the classroom, we discussed the article, what it meant, and how the students felt about Thanksgiving. Later on, I had them make thank you cards to people they feel they appreciate, but don't always acknowledge. As you can imagine, it was a really great activity. The students were engaged and thoughtful, everyone making a thank you card to someone who deserved it. There is one student who asked if he could stay a few minutes late in order to finish his card. When he did, I almost cried when I read it. I'm paraphrasing here, but it went something like this... "I want to say thank you to my mom and my dad and my family. Even though we don't always get along and fight sometimes, I love you guys very much. I am very grateful to have you in my life." This, from a 6th grader, is a more heartfelt expression of emotion than many adults are capable of.
Judaism teaches us to look to our past. To see those that have come before us, to recognize the sacrifices they have made for us, and to rejoice in those sacrifices with gratitude and love. I don't think we honestly take the time to do this. Even if it's a simple thank you, sometimes that is all it takes. So, with all of my heart, I want to say thank you to all of my friends, family, colleagues, and individuals in my life who have sacrificed something, whether it be time, money, or energy, to help me become the person I am today. I love you all very much and am very grateful for what you have done for me. And if you can, I implore you, take the opportunity to thank those around you. I promise, they won't soon forget it.
A week ago, I had my friend and co-creator of this blog Maya, as well as another mutual friend Michael, come in from the city to Jersey to celebrate Shabbat. This was the first time they have come into Jersey, as opposed to me going into the city. It was also the first time they have seen my community and my temple. After the service (Maya will talk about the service experience I believe. I thought it would be a little biased coming from me), we had our usual discussion, what we liked/didn't like about the service, what could have gone better or what was weird, just a regular, post-service talk. As inevitably happens when you combine friends and drinks, we got loud and began to stray from our service discussion to what I have begun to believe is the real reason we get together every few weeks, philosophy/theology and the beliefs about our Judaism. That night's topic, klal Yisrael. The content of that discussion is for another day. There is, however, something else I felt, not completely until we said our goodbyes, that I have been compelled to share.
You see, growing up, and really throughout my entire life up until recently, I never had many Jewish friends. While I was friendly with the kids in my Confirmation class, it was never a social circle I was engaged with outside of the classroom. When I went off to college, I never joined Hillel or any groups or activities. And when I came back to New Jersey from a freshman year in Boston, I picked back up with my friends from high school who I have grown to love. And while, my closest group of friends are beyond loyal and I wouldn't trade them for anything in the world, none of them are Jewish (most are anti-religion all together), and because of such I think they don't always understand what I am doing or why I am doing it. There is a certain communicative and cultural difference that, while they love to argue with me on issues of theology and such, we are divided by.
That is where Maya and Michael have recently been so awesome. I have never really had a friendship like the ones I have with them. Meeting at the NATE conference, all three of us share common interests, life experiences, and aspirations I have never really shared with anyone before. While I am extremely grateful and eternally indebted to people like my Rabbi and mentor/boss Michelle, there is something altogether different about having connections like this with someone your own age. I have people who I can bounce ideas off of, who will question my ideas and beliefs with their own, and who will push me to think about things in ways I never have before.
So, in that spirit, I thought of a fun activity for my students to do last Monday. I provided them with the following article about Thanksgiving and Judaism, taken from Ha-Eretz, an Israeli newspaper (click here). It is a really interesting piece about the values of Thanksgiving and how they intertwine with Jewish values, mainly gratitude. In the classroom, we discussed the article, what it meant, and how the students felt about Thanksgiving. Later on, I had them make thank you cards to people they feel they appreciate, but don't always acknowledge. As you can imagine, it was a really great activity. The students were engaged and thoughtful, everyone making a thank you card to someone who deserved it. There is one student who asked if he could stay a few minutes late in order to finish his card. When he did, I almost cried when I read it. I'm paraphrasing here, but it went something like this... "I want to say thank you to my mom and my dad and my family. Even though we don't always get along and fight sometimes, I love you guys very much. I am very grateful to have you in my life." This, from a 6th grader, is a more heartfelt expression of emotion than many adults are capable of.
Judaism teaches us to look to our past. To see those that have come before us, to recognize the sacrifices they have made for us, and to rejoice in those sacrifices with gratitude and love. I don't think we honestly take the time to do this. Even if it's a simple thank you, sometimes that is all it takes. So, with all of my heart, I want to say thank you to all of my friends, family, colleagues, and individuals in my life who have sacrificed something, whether it be time, money, or energy, to help me become the person I am today. I love you all very much and am very grateful for what you have done for me. And if you can, I implore you, take the opportunity to thank those around you. I promise, they won't soon forget it.
Saturday, November 12, 2011
Jew Jokes- by Maya
This week, I went to a comedy show. It was advertised as funny stories about people in their twenties, and when we got there it was announced that the theme was home and family. However, during the show I noticed another theme, and my observations were confirmed during a post-show de-briefing with my friend: it seemed as though the most prevalent jokes were ones about religion, primarily Judaism. Practically all of the seven people who spoke had made a joke about Jews at one point or another during their monologues. I was slightly confused as to why, as Judaism wasn't blatantly part of the topic about which everyone was supposed to be speaking. And obviously there are a lot of funny topics one could speak about relating to ones twenties, home and family without making fun of Judaism in the process.
Jew jokes have, for some reason, become very prevalent in our culture. Last night, I was sitting around with some friends and watching Netflix (so cool, I know) and in one of the shows we watched someone mentioned, completely randomly, how he had attended another character's Bar Mitzvah, then said "L'chaim!" I again wondered about this use of Judaism in a context in which there was no overt reason to reference it, but someone chose to use it to facilitate a laugh. Why did the writer feel it necessary to bring a Bar Mitzvah into the dialogue? Weren't there other things that might have been more funny to the show's audience? This joke wasn't offensive, but, again, I was just confused about the use of Jewish concepts when there didn't seem to be a specific reason to bring Judaism into the picture. I guess one could say that about any joke, but for a culture in which the young people largely seem to be shying away from the idea of organized religion, to make numerous Jew jokes in things geared towards those people seems slightly odd.
I suppose that there is definitely a positive side to the fact that lots of people in mainstream culture enjoy laughing about Jewish-related things. Its fabulous that a writer would assume that practically everyone knows what a Bar Mitzvah is. I like the idea that modern Jews can be a natural part of society, that our customs and symbols are well-known and embraced by Jews and gentiles alike. However, sometimes hearing those jokes makes me a little uncomfortable; one girl's monologue at the comedy show revolved around how she picked up an Orthodox Jew at a bar. It was a funny story, yes, but parts of it made it seem as though her beliefs were the only ones that mattered, and his weren't valid at all. Is there a subtle line regarding jokes about religion that frequently gets crossed? I think that line is difficult to define, and varies from person to person.
A year ago, I went on a college students' retreat to Hebrew Union College in Cincinnati, the theme of which was Jews in popular culture. One class that I took stands out as a particular moment of significance from that weekend, as it brought up a lot of questions and ideas about Jews in television that I've been thinking about ever since then. The class used the TV show Glee, and the Jews represented on it, as a springboard for the wider topic of how Jews are represented in culture, and whether those representations are good or bad. We discussed how, like I've mentioned above, it can be a good thing that Jews are so widely known and accepted as part of American culture. However, we asked, does this positive aspect outweigh the fact that by representing Jews in a certain way and saying certain things about them, TV writers reinforce certain stereotypes about Jews and typical ideas about what Jews do? Glee is a good example of many different stereotypes that exist about Jews: the lead, Rachel, is your "typical" short, brown-haired, big-nosed whiner who always wants to be the center of attention. Puck, the "bad boy" of the show, makes jokes about eating pork products with his family. Artie is a be-spectacled nerd whose Judaism is never discussed, and Tina's last name is Cohen-Chang but her Judaism is never brought up either. Jacob Ben-Israel, a more minor character who hosts a television show, has a "Jew-fro", a strong Hebrew name, and uses a microphone decorated with Stars of David. This exposure of Judaism to a large demographic is great, yes- but is this necessarily the best way to represent our people?
I don't really have answers to any of my questions, but I enjoy exploring these ideas. I do know that sometimes I can be over-sensitive to jokes that target me personally; maybe I am just taking all of these Jew jokes too much to heart, and I should be happy that Judaism and contemporary culture seem to go so well together. All groups are stereotyped at one point or another, so perhaps I should even be happy that mine gets so much attention. Yet I can't help but feel a twinge of confusion and frustration when I see certain stereotypes perpetuated over and over. My Judaism is special to me, and I feel like its not being fairly represented when people lump it together with Orthodoxy, or Rachel Berry.
Jew jokes have, for some reason, become very prevalent in our culture. Last night, I was sitting around with some friends and watching Netflix (so cool, I know) and in one of the shows we watched someone mentioned, completely randomly, how he had attended another character's Bar Mitzvah, then said "L'chaim!" I again wondered about this use of Judaism in a context in which there was no overt reason to reference it, but someone chose to use it to facilitate a laugh. Why did the writer feel it necessary to bring a Bar Mitzvah into the dialogue? Weren't there other things that might have been more funny to the show's audience? This joke wasn't offensive, but, again, I was just confused about the use of Jewish concepts when there didn't seem to be a specific reason to bring Judaism into the picture. I guess one could say that about any joke, but for a culture in which the young people largely seem to be shying away from the idea of organized religion, to make numerous Jew jokes in things geared towards those people seems slightly odd.
I suppose that there is definitely a positive side to the fact that lots of people in mainstream culture enjoy laughing about Jewish-related things. Its fabulous that a writer would assume that practically everyone knows what a Bar Mitzvah is. I like the idea that modern Jews can be a natural part of society, that our customs and symbols are well-known and embraced by Jews and gentiles alike. However, sometimes hearing those jokes makes me a little uncomfortable; one girl's monologue at the comedy show revolved around how she picked up an Orthodox Jew at a bar. It was a funny story, yes, but parts of it made it seem as though her beliefs were the only ones that mattered, and his weren't valid at all. Is there a subtle line regarding jokes about religion that frequently gets crossed? I think that line is difficult to define, and varies from person to person.
A year ago, I went on a college students' retreat to Hebrew Union College in Cincinnati, the theme of which was Jews in popular culture. One class that I took stands out as a particular moment of significance from that weekend, as it brought up a lot of questions and ideas about Jews in television that I've been thinking about ever since then. The class used the TV show Glee, and the Jews represented on it, as a springboard for the wider topic of how Jews are represented in culture, and whether those representations are good or bad. We discussed how, like I've mentioned above, it can be a good thing that Jews are so widely known and accepted as part of American culture. However, we asked, does this positive aspect outweigh the fact that by representing Jews in a certain way and saying certain things about them, TV writers reinforce certain stereotypes about Jews and typical ideas about what Jews do? Glee is a good example of many different stereotypes that exist about Jews: the lead, Rachel, is your "typical" short, brown-haired, big-nosed whiner who always wants to be the center of attention. Puck, the "bad boy" of the show, makes jokes about eating pork products with his family. Artie is a be-spectacled nerd whose Judaism is never discussed, and Tina's last name is Cohen-Chang but her Judaism is never brought up either. Jacob Ben-Israel, a more minor character who hosts a television show, has a "Jew-fro", a strong Hebrew name, and uses a microphone decorated with Stars of David. This exposure of Judaism to a large demographic is great, yes- but is this necessarily the best way to represent our people?
I don't really have answers to any of my questions, but I enjoy exploring these ideas. I do know that sometimes I can be over-sensitive to jokes that target me personally; maybe I am just taking all of these Jew jokes too much to heart, and I should be happy that Judaism and contemporary culture seem to go so well together. All groups are stereotyped at one point or another, so perhaps I should even be happy that mine gets so much attention. Yet I can't help but feel a twinge of confusion and frustration when I see certain stereotypes perpetuated over and over. My Judaism is special to me, and I feel like its not being fairly represented when people lump it together with Orthodoxy, or Rachel Berry.
Friday, November 11, 2011
Top Biblical Personalities in Your Workplace...stolen by Ted
Hey all. I've been super occupied with studying for the GREs, which I take tomorrow (wish me luck!!). However, I didn't want you to think I forgot about you. A friend of mine posted this on her Facebook page. She got it from "The Weekly Bang", which is an orthodox mailing list/website, so all credit goes to them. Pretty funny stuff!!
Top Biblical Personalities in Your Workplace
Adam – The first hire, got in trouble for eating something from the office fridge that was forbidden. Been demoted to grunt work ever since.
Noah - that guy who brings his pet to work.
Abraham – Considered a pioneer in the field, founded the company through much family sacrifice
Moses - Left his current less desirable situation and brought his staff with him. Had to split the place after they worked him like a slave
Pharaoh - CEO whose ego plagues the company and eventually has to let people go
David - Somehow wins pitch over Goliath competitor and overnight becomes the reigning king of the office
Joshua – Completed the full corporate takeover of Canaan and expanded the office locations countrywide
Joseph - Dreams of being star CEO, and is annoyingly public about it. His clothing is flamboyant, but he sure is a charmer.
Potiphar's Wife – The first sexual harassment claim in the workplace
Ahashveirosh – The boss who sends emails and makes major decisions when sleepless at 2AM
Jonah - Swallowed by a whale of a project, hasn't been seen in months
Tamar - The office harlot, who somehow brings integrity to those around her
Shaul – Delusional CEO who doesn't believe he has just been replaced
Korah - Occupy Wall St.
Cain & Abel - Duo who always seem to being going to lunch/smoke breaks together, that is, until one had the other axed
Solomon – Ladies' man who built his cubicle into a Temple
Leah – Even after developing most of the future of the company, still feels second class to her arch nemesis Rachel
Ruth - Only employee who volunteered to stay with the company even after the rough merger
Sarah – She laid off Hagar... for the good of the company.
Mordechai – As a consultant, his stubbornness and insider information helped save the company from disaster
Pinchas – Zealously took on corporate corruption and won
Bilam –Consultant/Contractor brought in to crush the competition, ended up being a loose canon
70 Zikainim –The board of directors
Isaac - Only has his job cause his father Abraham started the place
ps. Dont worry, I had to look a couple of them up myself
Top Biblical Personalities in Your Workplace
Adam – The first hire, got in trouble for eating something from the office fridge that was forbidden. Been demoted to grunt work ever since.
Noah - that guy who brings his pet to work.
Abraham – Considered a pioneer in the field, founded the company through much family sacrifice
Moses - Left his current less desirable situation and brought his staff with him. Had to split the place after they worked him like a slave
Pharaoh - CEO whose ego plagues the company and eventually has to let people go
David - Somehow wins pitch over Goliath competitor and overnight becomes the reigning king of the office
Joshua – Completed the full corporate takeover of Canaan and expanded the office locations countrywide
Joseph - Dreams of being star CEO, and is annoyingly public about it. His clothing is flamboyant, but he sure is a charmer.
Potiphar's Wife – The first sexual harassment claim in the workplace
Ahashveirosh – The boss who sends emails and makes major decisions when sleepless at 2AM
Jonah - Swallowed by a whale of a project, hasn't been seen in months
Tamar - The office harlot, who somehow brings integrity to those around her
Shaul – Delusional CEO who doesn't believe he has just been replaced
Korah - Occupy Wall St.
Cain & Abel - Duo who always seem to being going to lunch/smoke breaks together, that is, until one had the other axed
Solomon – Ladies' man who built his cubicle into a Temple
Leah – Even after developing most of the future of the company, still feels second class to her arch nemesis Rachel
Ruth - Only employee who volunteered to stay with the company even after the rough merger
Sarah – She laid off Hagar... for the good of the company.
Mordechai – As a consultant, his stubbornness and insider information helped save the company from disaster
Pinchas – Zealously took on corporate corruption and won
Bilam –Consultant/Contractor brought in to crush the competition, ended up being a loose canon
70 Zikainim –The board of directors
Isaac - Only has his job cause his father Abraham started the place
ps. Dont worry, I had to look a couple of them up myself
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Jews with Toos by Ted
Hey all. So October was a pretty bad month. Maya and I hardly posted anything (aka I posted nothing). I'm not sure why that is, but we will try our best to stay on top of our blogging and keep the juices flowing.
With that said, about a week ago I got a text from a friend asking me if I would like to be interviewed by a fellow Rutgers student for a paper she is writing on Jews with tattoos. Having two tattoos myself, pursuing a life in Jewish professionalism, and being involved in the Jewish community, I felt like I'd be an excellent interviewee. Plus, I just like to talk about Judaism and topics like this, so I thought it would be, at the very least, fun for me.
So I met the girl yesterday and had the interview. It was fun, we had a 20 minute conversation about the subject and I'll hopefully get to see the paper when she is done with it in a few weeks. But I wanted to offer you guys my opinion on the subject, why I feel that way, and what my tattoos are and what they mean to me.
As I'm sure you can imagine, I am perfectly fine with Jewish people getting tattoos. The idea that we aren't allowed to get tattoos is derived from Lev. 19:28, where it says "You shall not...incise any marks on yourselves: I the LORD am your God." It was common practice for pagans to tattoo themselves with markers of their gods, and to differentiate themselves from those pagans, Jews were required not to get tattoos. Within ten lines of v.28, we receive the commandments not to grow more than 1 type of plant in any specific field and not to wear clothing made from two types of cloth. Like these latter commandments, the one regarding tattooing oneself seems to me a bit archaic, as I am clearly not a pagan (for those who were wondering).
So, with the Bible based reasoning out of the way, why do I have tattoos? Well, for me, a tattoo is just another mode of expression, like poetry or painting. They are an expression and reminder of who I am and who I was at the time. They are also only one part of who I am. Just like being male, or a person who lives in New Jersey, or even a Jew, they are just one facet of the thing called Ted.
Before describing my tattoos, I should add a little caveat. I have a rule for myself when getting tattoos. I make myself wait about 3 years after coming up with the idea before actually getting the tattoo. The first one I got I waited 4 years before actually getting it and the second one I sat on for 3 years. They weren't an impulsive decision, rather one I contemplated and envisioned for quite a long time.
I have two tattoos. The first one is this...
For those of you who cannot read Hebrew, it says "Nizkor" or "We shall remember". It is one my right side rib cage. To me, this one has a few different meanings. Firstly, the Nizkor project (nizkor.org) is a Holocaust Remembrance project. After going on my Confirmation trip during my sophomore year in high school and visiting a few of the concentration camps, I this idea became particularly meaningful to me. Secondly, it is a reminder of my uncle, who died at a very young age. While he would have hated the fact that I have a tattoo, it none the else is another way for me to remember one of the greatest human beings to ever live. And lastly, it is a constant reminder to stay ground and remember who you are and where you came from.
My second tattoo I had done less than two weeks ago! Here it is...
This one says "Luminous beings are we, not this crude matter" and is located on my back left shoulder. As you can also see, there is a ship underneath and all of you Star Wars fans will recognize it as Bobba Fett's ship, Slave 1. This one is a bit easier to explain. The Slave 1 is there for one simple reason, it's bad-ass. Anyone who knows me knows I am a huge Star Wars fan and the Slave 1 is by far the coolest ship in all of Star Wars. The quote, which is spoken by Yoda to Luke while he is training on Dagoba, is meant to originally help explain the power behind The Force. I like to think of it in the same context. We are not simply the amalgamation of atoms and cells that form our body and organs, but much more than that. There is mystery that surrounds human existence and the human experience that we simply do not understand or even readily perceive.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Thoughts on Shabbat- by Maya
I find it amazing how much we need in order to be stimulated. Last night, I went over to watch a tv show with a friend, who, during that hour, not only watched the show with me but worked on a crossword puzzle. She even commented on how she needed multiple activities to keep her busy. I shook my head at her, but, later that night, as I watched one of my favorite shows, I found myself also reading an article online. We are so used to things moving so fast, and to having multiple media coming at us at the same time, that it feels like it is becoming second nature to do more than one thing at once. Having one singular focus for me, sometimes, can become unnerving. Even when I eat a meal, I need to be on my computer, or watching tv, or reading something. Just now, I took a break from writing this to check my Facebook and my phone. There is a constant need for me to keep myself busy, to constantly be involved in multiple activities at once, and I know a lot of my peers feel the same way.
I think this is why Shabbat is important. Although a respite from Facebook and text messages not be exactly what our ancestors pictured when they proposed a day of rest, I think a pause from everyday life is still very much needed in contemporary times.
This past Friday night, one of my good friends hosted a Shabbat dinner through Birthright. I was excited to celebrate Shabbat with a group of my peers and meet new people. I even had the opportunity to compose and lead a brief service, which included the Shabbat blessings and a few readings. Additionally, each time I lead Shabbat informally, I like to go around the room and have everyone say something good that happened to him or her that week. I think that we often get caught up in everything bad that happens to us, or entrenched in the monotony of routine, and Shabbat is a good opportunity to take a step back and remember that even though bad things do happen to us, we are still very lucky, and there is always something good in our lives.
The Shabbat dinner was a lovely evening. It almost felt like we were in a little bubble away from the rest of the world; I didn't check my phone for hours! It was nice to just eat food, talk with people I didn't know, and enjoy Shabbat. I definitely plan on hosting a dinner of my own sometime in the near future. Shabbat reminds me that it is possible to take a break from the craziness of the world, from all the technology and media by which I am constantly surrounded. It is possible to put away my phone and my computer and just concentrate on one thing: being present.
I think this is why Shabbat is important. Although a respite from Facebook and text messages not be exactly what our ancestors pictured when they proposed a day of rest, I think a pause from everyday life is still very much needed in contemporary times.
This past Friday night, one of my good friends hosted a Shabbat dinner through Birthright. I was excited to celebrate Shabbat with a group of my peers and meet new people. I even had the opportunity to compose and lead a brief service, which included the Shabbat blessings and a few readings. Additionally, each time I lead Shabbat informally, I like to go around the room and have everyone say something good that happened to him or her that week. I think that we often get caught up in everything bad that happens to us, or entrenched in the monotony of routine, and Shabbat is a good opportunity to take a step back and remember that even though bad things do happen to us, we are still very lucky, and there is always something good in our lives.
The Shabbat dinner was a lovely evening. It almost felt like we were in a little bubble away from the rest of the world; I didn't check my phone for hours! It was nice to just eat food, talk with people I didn't know, and enjoy Shabbat. I definitely plan on hosting a dinner of my own sometime in the near future. Shabbat reminds me that it is possible to take a break from the craziness of the world, from all the technology and media by which I am constantly surrounded. It is possible to put away my phone and my computer and just concentrate on one thing: being present.
Monday, October 10, 2011
High Holy Day Reflection- by Maya
I think my favorite part of the High Holy Day service is the Zochreinu. I greatly anticipate the moments each year when the Cantor slows down during the Avot and the entire congregation joins in to chant those few special phrases we only say once a year. "Zochreinu l'chayim, melech hafetz ba'chayyim. V'chot venu b'sefer chayyim, l'mancha elohim chayyim." "Remember us unto life, sovereign who delights in life, and inscribe us for a blessing in the Book of Life, oh God of life."
I don't know if I like it so much because it is set apart from the rest of the service, or because of the beautiful melody. I think its because I feel like it is a powerful and compelling moment; the entire congregation, and the entire Jewish population, pleads to God together to be remembered, and to be inscribed in this mythical Book of Life we discuss every year. I personally don't feel so united with everyone around me as when we are chanting those words.
I think the High Holy Days are interesting because they are so oriented towards the individual, but also focus on humanity in general. The reflection on Rosh Hashanah, and the repenting during the ten days of Awe that culminate in Yom Kippur, are there for us as individuals to think about our deeds and the wrongs we have done to others and then strive to not repeat those actions in the coming year. Its a very personal time, which can be a difficult one as well, since we need to ask forgiveness of others, and, in turn, forgive them ourselves. But when I was reading the confessional prayer we recite on Yom Kippur, Vidui, I realized how simply human the holidays are, too. Everyone makes mistakes and hurts others in some way, and the holidays provide us with an opportunity to step back and think about this. They allow us to attain a level of self-awareness and reflection we may not otherwise experience during the year. Each of us has not personally done every sin listed in the prayer, but as a community we are atoning for the things we have done. Unlike other religions, we do not confess our sins alone in a private room to one clergy member, but instead come together as a congregation and confess together, with and to each other, creating something bigger, a catharsis for not only ourselves, but our entire community, and Jewish people in general.
That may be why the Zochreinu is so powerful to me. It reminds me that the holidays are not just about me, although I definitely appreciate the opportunity for self-awareness and the chance to grow as a person. We ask God to not remember "me", but remember "us". We are all trying to repent and be better people. During a time in which I am so focused on my own life and my own actions in the past and the future, the Zochreinu grounds me and reminds me that everyone is attempting to do the same. The Jewish community is all in this together, even on the most important and personal days of the year.
In the play-within-a-play during Jeff Talbott's new play "The Submission", a child threatens his brother with a knife. Their mother sees them and takes the knife away from her son, but puts it right back into the drawer where he got it. The boy asks his mother why she did not hide the knife from him, or put it somewhere he could not reach. She responds "its important to know what you're capable of". The High Holy Days help us to ponder what we are capable of, as individuals and as a larger community. The give us a time for personal contemplation and growth, but remind us that we are never completely on our own on our journey to improvement, as we are always connected with the Jewish community as a whole. Hopefully this year everyone, not only Jews, will realize what they are capable of, and strive to use their capabilities to create a positive impact.
Monday, September 26, 2011
What a Jew Makes... by Ted
Last week, I was writing a lesson plan for my Jewish History class. I was trying to find a whole bunch of quotes from people about Judaism, the Jewish people, or other such related topics that the students could use in their art projects (a collage in this case). Like the wanna-be scholar that I am, I looked up and down my book shelf, trying to find books that might have some good ideas in them.
I leafed through Maimonides' Guide, a summary book of Philo, Ibn Ezra, and Sa'adia Gaon, Pirkei Avot and a few others. I finally stumbled upon one that was given to me after a class I took at MetroWest (http://www.ujcnj.org) for Jewish educators who don't have a formal education background. The book is called Finding God by Rifat Sonsino and Daniel B. Syme and, while I found many good ideas (I'd suggest you pick it up), this one stuck out more than any other.
"The only kind of religion that can help him live and get the most out of life will be the one which will teach him to identify as divine or holy whatever in human nature or in the world about him enhances human life."
This quote comes from Mordecai Kaplan's book The Meaning of God in Modern Jewish Religion. It reminded me of a plane ride I had once taken. I was going out to Seattle for the NATE conference, where I met the lovely Maya Glasser, and I had a conversation with the women sitting next to me. She was a hardcore Christian conservative and saw me reading something that let her know I was Jewish. She started talking about the Bible and my beliefs. When she realized how reform I was in my practice, like not keeping kosher or observing the Sabbath, she asked me how I could call myself a Jew? I think she was offended by my "poser" Jewness.
In Taylor Mali's opening lines of his poem "What Teachers Make" (WATCH IT BEFORE CONTINUING!! http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tpog1_NFd2Q) , he addresses a lawyer who recently asked him how much money he makes. Taylor says, "You wanna know what I make?!? I make kids work harder than they ever thought they could. I can make a C+ look like a Congressional Medal of Honor and an A- feel like a slap in the face..."
So, annoying bitchy lady on the plane 8 months ago, you wanna know how I'm a Jew? I find motivation in the study of things older than I can even imagine. I find satisfaction in challenging an 8th grader to think about an idea that even I don't fully comprehend. I relish in seeing the face of a 9 year old light up when she figures out that the weird "W" looking sign makes a shhhhhhhh sound. I stay up hours and hours later than I should reading about the authorship of the Bible or surfing through Youtube for an animated video that encompasses all the ritual aspects of a Jewish wedding, even though the likelihood of it existing is slim. I've found a career that I look forward to waking up to and one I can see myself doing for a long time. I've found the love and friendship in a community that is always willing to lend a hand to someone in need. And that, annoying bitchy lady on the plane, is how I'm a Jew.
Monday, September 19, 2011
Really Interesting Article about Religion and Social Media- by Maya
I came across this article in my Facebook newsfeed (how meta!) It reminded me a lot of what Ted and I discussed as interns at the NATE conference where we met, about the implications of technology on religion and the relationship between the two. It is interesting to think of people being "religious" without belonging to congregations, but I guess that is all a part of this changing world. Technology is pushing the boundaries of religion even more, shaping the way people observe customs and study texts. It has the potential to connect people who otherwise wouldn't interact, but at the same time can remove the intimacy of physically being with others during study or prayer. This issue calls into question the definition of community, its function in daily life, and what it can be.
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/rabbi-jason-miller/social-media-and-religion_b_949686.html
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/rabbi-jason-miller/social-media-and-religion_b_949686.html
Friday, September 16, 2011
A Quiet Conversation - by Ted
So I was sitting in the library last week reading for my class. Even though I just recently graduated from Rutgers University with a BA in Jewish Studies, I decided to, for a variety of reasons, take a graduate class in the new Jewish Studies MA program at Rutgers. While I was sitting there, one of the other three students in my class came into the room and sat down.
While we were talking about the reading, or whatever students stuck in a library for 6+ hours talk about, we got on the topic of our personal Judaisms and Jewish History. Knowing that I was applying to HUC in the coming fall, he seemed really interested in how I have formulated my ideas of Judaism.
"So you're applying to HUC, right? So let me ask you, how can you follow a religion? How can you believe in something that archaeologically can be proven false? I mean, we learned in class this week about how the Exodus didn't really happen the way it is portrayed in the Bible. How do you rationalize that?"
He was referring in particular to a discussion we had in class regarding the beginning of the Israelites and their migration from the desert into the land of Canaan. In the Bible it states, "There were about six hundred thousand men on foot, besides women and children" (Ex. 12:37). So that means there were 600,000 men, all with wives, making the number 1.2 million. If each family had 2 children, that makes that number 2.4 million. With a gargantuan movement of people such as this, it would likely have been recorded somewhere other than the Bible. As it happens, it isn't. There is no evidence, outside the Bible, in any Egyptian, Philistine, Phoenician, or Mesopotamian historical document recovered that proves this event transpired the way it is highlighted in Exodus. Is it likely that a group of Semites migrated from Egypt, across the Sinai and into the highlands of Canaan? Yes. However, it is difficult for me to believe that it happened the exact way portrayed in the Torah.
So as I explained my point of view to my friend, I was highlighting what I came to find out later is the maximalist point of view when it comes to the historiocracy of the Bible (All credit for my knowledge is attributed to Prof. Gary Rendsburg). A maximilist believes that, although the stories in the Tanakh may not be exactly the events that transpired (those that haven't been proven true archeologically), they do represent a plausible situation that could have occurred, to a degree of historical accuracy. A minimalist believes that anything that cannot be proven to have occurred through either archeological evidence or secondary accounts, like royal decrees or inscriptions, must be a fictional tale created by the Bible's authors.
So what was my explanation to my classmate? I told him that, although the stories in the Bible may not be true, it does not make them any less important. Did Abraham actually almost sacrifice his son? Probably not. But there is a message in that story, mainly that one should have faith in God, that is just as important, if not more so, than the actual words written on the page. Did Noah actually live to be 950 (Gen 9:29)? No, but it does go to show that those who follow God's commandments, even if they do stray once in a while as Noah did, are rewarded. While I do not believe that every story told in the Bible is historical fact, or even that some of the commandments need to be followed, I don't think that discounts the tremendous valuable wisdom we can learn from them. I also don't think that believing that makes me any less a Jew than someone who believes that it is historical.
I happen to spend a good amount of time thinking about my religion and being introspective about what I believe and don't believe. Not everyone gets the opportunity, or has the interest, to do so. What I want to point out and end with is that, even if you don't believe every story in the Bible is true, there is still much to be learned from it's pages. And even if you don't follow all the commandments or keep the Shabbat, that doesn't make you any less a Jew. That is what I told to my classmate, and it's what I want tell to you too.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Overcoming Arrested Development in Elul- by Maya
I just finished watching the series Arrested Development, and enjoyed it very much. Its interesting to me, though, that I viewed many episodes in the Jewish month of Elul, the weeks leading up to the High Holy Days, in which we are supposed to reflect on ourselves and ponder how we want to act in the coming year.
The TV series follows the Bluth family, a group of corrupt and eccentric individuals, as they face the criminal trial of their father figure while dealing with the responsibilities of running their real estate business and keeping their family together. As I watched it, I noticed how consistently each character maintained his or her quirks, making similar mistakes over and over again because that's how they functioned as people. While this strong character development is a mark of great writing, and definitely one of the main factors that makes the show so hilarious, not repeating our mistakes in the coming year is something that we as Jews think about during Elul. While we watch as characters like Gob (pronounced like the biblical character, which in itself demonstrates the kind of person he is) hilariously produce magic tricks that continually fail, or Lindsay neglect her daughter and desire to cheat on her husband all fit together into an insanely clever and funny story-line, our own personal errors and negative qualities are usually far less humorous, and when we make mistakes it is generally not for the sake of entertainment.
I see Elul as a tool for us to overcome our own arrested development. It is a time in which we can take a step back, attaining a wider perspective on how we act and the choices we make, and how those choices define our lives as a whole. We have the power to break out of cycles of error, to grow and develop in such a way that we are not characterized by our negative quirks and the mistakes we make, and Elul, which leads up to the most important days in the Jewish calendar, reminds us of that. Unlike the oblivious characters on the show, we have the ability to realize our errors, which is the first step in eliminating them.
This Elul, I am hoping that I do not end up like the members of the Bluth family. I hope that I can be self-aware enough to learn from my mistakes, realizing when I make them and striving to not fall into a cycle of similar errors. I hope that my good intentions will not, in turn, create more disasters, which usually happens to the characters on the show, but instead generate positive impacts on myself and others. As much as I loved the show Arrested Development, I hope to arrest my own arrested development as I reflect on the past and look forward to the coming year.
The TV series follows the Bluth family, a group of corrupt and eccentric individuals, as they face the criminal trial of their father figure while dealing with the responsibilities of running their real estate business and keeping their family together. As I watched it, I noticed how consistently each character maintained his or her quirks, making similar mistakes over and over again because that's how they functioned as people. While this strong character development is a mark of great writing, and definitely one of the main factors that makes the show so hilarious, not repeating our mistakes in the coming year is something that we as Jews think about during Elul. While we watch as characters like Gob (pronounced like the biblical character, which in itself demonstrates the kind of person he is) hilariously produce magic tricks that continually fail, or Lindsay neglect her daughter and desire to cheat on her husband all fit together into an insanely clever and funny story-line, our own personal errors and negative qualities are usually far less humorous, and when we make mistakes it is generally not for the sake of entertainment.
I see Elul as a tool for us to overcome our own arrested development. It is a time in which we can take a step back, attaining a wider perspective on how we act and the choices we make, and how those choices define our lives as a whole. We have the power to break out of cycles of error, to grow and develop in such a way that we are not characterized by our negative quirks and the mistakes we make, and Elul, which leads up to the most important days in the Jewish calendar, reminds us of that. Unlike the oblivious characters on the show, we have the ability to realize our errors, which is the first step in eliminating them.
This Elul, I am hoping that I do not end up like the members of the Bluth family. I hope that I can be self-aware enough to learn from my mistakes, realizing when I make them and striving to not fall into a cycle of similar errors. I hope that my good intentions will not, in turn, create more disasters, which usually happens to the characters on the show, but instead generate positive impacts on myself and others. As much as I loved the show Arrested Development, I hope to arrest my own arrested development as I reflect on the past and look forward to the coming year.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
The Meaning of Minyan - by Ted
Hello All! As Maya mentioned, we are both really excited to begin this blog. We don't necessarily know where it will end up, but the journey alone is enough for me. Since she already gave you the basics on the shul we visited, our reasons for choosing it, and a brief description, I can move right past that and talk about our discussion topic of that evening, the importance and meaning of a minyan.
As you'll soon find out, I'm a big history nerd, especially when it comes to Jewish history. Because of this, I figured we could start with a brief history lesson about minyanim before we move onto my personal thoughts. As minyan has to do with communal worship, it is not specifically mentioned in the Torah. Communal worship did not become popular until after the destruction of the Holy Temple in 70 CE, before which the main form of worship was sacrifice. The first mention of a minyan appears in the Talmud, in Megillah 23b, where it records a list of commandments that cannot be observed in the presence of less than ten men (while many of us now consider women able to partake in minyan, the authors of the Talmud appear to have felt differently). Some believe this number was chosen because of the dialogue between God and Abraham regarding the fate of Sodom (Gen 18:32), others turn to Numbers 17, and the story of the 12 spies sent into Canaan, and still others cite different stories and reasons.
So we're sitting in Brooklyn Heights Synagogue, and for the first time ever, the possibility of not having a minyan became real. As Maya highlighted in her article, none of us had ever been in this situation before, and I wasn't sure what was going to happen. To be honest, I don't even know what COULD happen, I've never experienced a service without a minyan, and I'm not sure how it would differ from the one I'm regularly accustomed to. However, no more than a few minutes in, our minyan arrived and the service continued unaltered.
However, throughout the whole evening, I thought about the idea of not having a minyan. If you read Maya's article, you'd have noticed she felt that this lack of attendance made her feel uneasy, maybe even a little disconnected from the overall worship experience. For me, however, it did the exact opposite. While I sat there, being one of only a handful in attendance made me much more aware of my presence in the service. Often times, for me at least, I can get lost in the repetitiveness of a Shabbat evening service. While worship is important, it is not the main vehicle of my Jewish practice. As such, while I sometimes feel rejuvenated after Kabbalat Shabbat, sometimes it just feels like another Friday night. Being one of twenty made me not only feel like a real part of the community and congregation (impressive since I had never been inside the shul before or met any of the others there), but it made me very self-conscience, in a good way. I not only heard every word that was said, but I listened. I not only spoke all the prayers, but I felt them. To be honest, it was probably one of the most impactful services I have been to in a long time.
I think it is very easy to get lost in this fast paced world we live in, I do almost everyday. We've all got so many things going on at once, whether it is school, work, family lives, or something else, it's easy to get caught up in it all and forget what we are doing at that precise moment. This past Shabbat helped me put it all a bit more in perspective. "All his life as he looked away, to the future, to the horizon. Never his mind on where he was, what he was doing." I will leave the speaker's name out for now (though soon enough you'll figure me and my random quotes out), but the message is very important. While planning for the future is important (let's go HUC!), it is equally as important to live in the moment, experience things as they happen, and enjoy the present.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Shalom! And our first Synagogue Experience- by Maya
Hello and welcome to our blog! Ted and I are very excited to start this venture, and hope you enjoy the ride with us. As we update the synagogue-visiting component of our blog, we hope to not only express the feeling of the service itself, but also our personal thoughts and discussions, both about it and triggered by it.
The first synagogue experience that we will document for Kippah Up! is Brooklyn Heights Synagogue, where our friend and fellow NATE Seattle intern Michael has been teaching Religious School for a number of years. As soon as I walked into the building, I could feel the homey-ness of it (it might have even been an old house, as there is a big staircase right inside, and the library and study feel as though someone built them for personal use). Everyone was very welcoming, and despite being a tiny synagogue, I could definitely feel its large ruach (spirit). The small size of the congregation was noted by everyone in the sanctuary, though, because as it became time for the service to start, there were only five people sitting in the pews. Neither Ted, Michael, nor I had been in a situation where we wanted to pray and there was no minyan (group of ten Jewish adults required to say many of the prayers that make up a service). Luckily, before we came to the prayers we couldn't say without ten people present, more congregants showed up, although there were no more than 25 by the end.
The potential lack of minyan triggered some interesting conversation over our traditional post-services dinner and debriefing. We discussed the nature of community, and the role of the individual in services, and how we feel about those roles. For me personally, being one of a very small number of people praying made me feel self-conscious about what I was doing, and took away the ability that I usually enjoy of being able to occasionally lose myself in the congregation during services. As a singer who is used to leading services, I felt a responsibility to constantly be active in the songs and readings. I felt obligated to the Student Cantor, who was leading services, to be a strong voice in the congregation, helping to carry it and support her efforts. While Ted and Michael talked about how they liked feeling more self-aware in such a small group, since it made them focus more on the service, I disliked this feeling. I prefer to choose when to be self-aware during a service, and when to quiet myself and blend in as not merely an individual bringing my own spirit to the sanctuary, but as part of a larger whole. I could not do this when I felt so responsible to help the service leader and focus on how I sounded and came across in such a small group of congregants. When I go to services, I do not want to be responsible for anything but my own presence.
The experience was lovely, but it raised some important questions for me, not only about community, but also regarding the idea of empowerment versus obligation. We are all empowered to be a part of the community, to participate in the rituals since we were adults in the sanctuary needed to be there in order for the service to happen, yet during this particular moment I also felt obligated to continually be vocal and make sure I was saying the prayers, my presence strictly tuned to the words on the page and how I sounded in relation to the group. During services, how important is it to balance being an individual with certain needs praying for certain things with a specific history and agenda, and being part of a community coming together, chanting words passed down to our people from generation to generation? The almost lack of minyan at the service made us painfully aware of the significance of the community in Judaism; we almost did not have a large enough one to even say some of those words. I look forward to further exploring the notion of individual vs. community, and how the idea of community manifests itself both in the services we attend and in the technology we use to express our thoughts about them.
Brooklyn Heights Synagogue (Reform Jewish congregation)
131 Remsen Street, Brooklyn, NY 11201
Telephone: (718) 522-2070
Service lead by: Student Cantor Nancy Bach (9/2/2011)
The first synagogue experience that we will document for Kippah Up! is Brooklyn Heights Synagogue, where our friend and fellow NATE Seattle intern Michael has been teaching Religious School for a number of years. As soon as I walked into the building, I could feel the homey-ness of it (it might have even been an old house, as there is a big staircase right inside, and the library and study feel as though someone built them for personal use). Everyone was very welcoming, and despite being a tiny synagogue, I could definitely feel its large ruach (spirit). The small size of the congregation was noted by everyone in the sanctuary, though, because as it became time for the service to start, there were only five people sitting in the pews. Neither Ted, Michael, nor I had been in a situation where we wanted to pray and there was no minyan (group of ten Jewish adults required to say many of the prayers that make up a service). Luckily, before we came to the prayers we couldn't say without ten people present, more congregants showed up, although there were no more than 25 by the end.
The potential lack of minyan triggered some interesting conversation over our traditional post-services dinner and debriefing. We discussed the nature of community, and the role of the individual in services, and how we feel about those roles. For me personally, being one of a very small number of people praying made me feel self-conscious about what I was doing, and took away the ability that I usually enjoy of being able to occasionally lose myself in the congregation during services. As a singer who is used to leading services, I felt a responsibility to constantly be active in the songs and readings. I felt obligated to the Student Cantor, who was leading services, to be a strong voice in the congregation, helping to carry it and support her efforts. While Ted and Michael talked about how they liked feeling more self-aware in such a small group, since it made them focus more on the service, I disliked this feeling. I prefer to choose when to be self-aware during a service, and when to quiet myself and blend in as not merely an individual bringing my own spirit to the sanctuary, but as part of a larger whole. I could not do this when I felt so responsible to help the service leader and focus on how I sounded and came across in such a small group of congregants. When I go to services, I do not want to be responsible for anything but my own presence.
The experience was lovely, but it raised some important questions for me, not only about community, but also regarding the idea of empowerment versus obligation. We are all empowered to be a part of the community, to participate in the rituals since we were adults in the sanctuary needed to be there in order for the service to happen, yet during this particular moment I also felt obligated to continually be vocal and make sure I was saying the prayers, my presence strictly tuned to the words on the page and how I sounded in relation to the group. During services, how important is it to balance being an individual with certain needs praying for certain things with a specific history and agenda, and being part of a community coming together, chanting words passed down to our people from generation to generation? The almost lack of minyan at the service made us painfully aware of the significance of the community in Judaism; we almost did not have a large enough one to even say some of those words. I look forward to further exploring the notion of individual vs. community, and how the idea of community manifests itself both in the services we attend and in the technology we use to express our thoughts about them.
Brooklyn Heights Synagogue (Reform Jewish congregation)
131 Remsen Street, Brooklyn, NY 11201
Telephone: (718) 522-2070
Service lead by: Student Cantor Nancy Bach (9/2/2011)
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