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.

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

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.

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 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.

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)