Biking to Blessings
Recently I have been thinking about the beauty of Long Island. I have heard the skeptics. I recognize that many people do not think our home is a particularly beautiful place. That is most likely because they spend most of their time negotiating traffic on the LIE. No matter how you might justify it, traffic is not beautiful. But if you venture to Northern Boulevard or even farther north to the rockly coastline of the shore you will find the beauty of this island. As far as I am concerned the best way to appreciate the beauty and majesty of this place is on a bike. This past weekend I took my new bike out for a long ride and made my way back and forth from Target Rock to Eatons Neck. I made my way up the hill to the entrance of Caumsett State Park and rode around one of the most exquisite parks on Long Island. When you venture away from the noise and tumult of the LIE you can see the lines that God drew in the rocks along the Sound. When you go slow enough you can breath in the moist, salty air of the Long Island Sound and hear the sound of God's voice echoing in the gentle lapping of the sea's waves. The choice is yours. You can curse the traffic or recite the blessings for nature. You have to allow yourself time to slow down. Cars are meant to go too fast to recite blessings. A bike travels at the right speed. On a bike the blessings roll more easily off your lips.
Shabbat at Cold Spring Harbor
Last week JCB held Shabbat Services at Cold Spring Harbor park. It is a beautiful park and an extraordinary setting to welcome in Shabbat and its bride. As evening approached boats returned to their moorings after a day of sailing and fishing. A family of ducklings swam along the shore seemingly gravitating towards the songs of our tradition. The sun began to set. The horizon was ablaze with orange and red. The waters of Long Island Sound glowed with the sun's reflective gaze. The words of Maariv Aravim fluttered off of the Siddur's pages: "Adonai, Master of Legions, You create day and night, rolling light away from darkness and darkness away from light. Eternal God, Your sovereignity shall forever embrace us."
Studying in Jerusalem
Today marks the last day of my studies at the Shalom Hartman Institute. It has been an extraordinary month of learning. We begin our day with hevruta study. We gather in small groups and study texts from the Bible, Talmud and often Maimonides. We then hear the master teacher's analysis and insights into the texts. After breaking for lunch we study Jewish mysticism. Often we have a few hours off during the heat of the afternoon before making our way back to the Institute for a lecture about Israeli society and culture. The theme for the month was God and spirituality so we spent most of our days debating questions of Jewish theology. We learned with David and Donniel Hartman, Yisrael Knohl (whose controversial theory about Jesus was recently reported in The New York Times), Moshe Halbertal, Melila Hellner-Eshed and Rani Jaegar to name a few. As impressive as our teachers are I am most impressed with my fellow participants in the Rabbinic Leadership Initiative. It is an extraordinary group of rabbis. We have learned a great deal from each other. In this group there are Reform, Conservative, Orthodox and Reconstructionist rabbis. I have learned the most from those rabbis who don't share my Reform orientation. In fact a few days ago Adam Scheier, a young Orthodox rabbi from Montreal, led Jonah Layman and me through the winding streets of the Old City's Muslim Quarter. He had studied at yeshiva there some years ago. He brought us to Kotel HaKatan (the Little Wall). There is picture of this site on the Blog's sidebar and in the slideshow. It is a small section of the Wall that runs above the Western Wall Tunnels. There is no plaza there, no throngs of people, no beggars and no one telling you how you should pray. In this small corner of the Old City a Reform, Conservative and Orthodox rabbi stood together and touched 2,000 year old stones. This moment embodied the summer's most important teaching.
The Zohar and Our Questions
For the past week we have studied Jewish mysticism with Melila Hellner-Eshed. The esoteric world of Jewish mysticism begins to unfold before my eyes. In the opening chapters of the Zohar, the seminal Jewish mystical text, Rabbi Shimon, expounded on the meaning of God's name "Elohim." This name is a combination of "elleh--these" and "Mi--who" (when the last two Hebrew letters are reversed). Elleh represents the structures of religious life, the letters of the alphabet, the texts of our tradition. Elleh represents the fixed, the halachah, the edifice. Mi represents the questions. All of us bring questions and doubts to our religious lives. We have many questions, many unsolved riddles. God is the combination of the structures and the questions. Without institutions, without laws Judaism would be lost. Without questions, without doubts Jews would be bereft. God embraces both. God is both. Elohim is the combination of structures of Jewish life and our questions.
Funerals, Rallies, Markets and Bars
All week I have been mulling over the scenes from the news. Wednesday morning we watched in silence as two black coffins were handed over by Hezbollah. The sound of the coffins touching the ground was the first confirmation the Regev and Goldwasser families received of the deaths of their sons. Two black coffins drove silently from the northern border to the grieving families. Israel turned over the bodies of 199 Hezbollah dead and five captured terrorists, the most astonishing of all was Sumar Kuntar who was granted an official pardon in order to facilitate his release. Kuntar received a hero's welcome in Lebanon. He walked off the airplane on a red carpet to cheers and praise. This brutal murderer received accolades in Lebanon while here in Israel there were only tears and bewilderment. The image of two black coffins and red carpets remain seared in my heart. The light of the full moon illuminated the distinction between good and evil. The chasm between those on either side of our northern border added to my despair.
For me this despair was finally lifted when I listened to a friend and accompanied him to Mahane Yehuda. The market stalls were closed. In their place was a bar set up in the middle of the street filled with hundreds of Israelis smoking and drinking, dancing and singing. We listened together to a band playing a unique blend of jazz, Sephardic and Klezmer music. Here tears and despair do not last for months and years. This morning there were tears. Now there is only laughter and music. The streets and bars are filled with the noise of a city that loves life and celebration. Although today was the 17th of Tammuz yesterday's sadness no longer colored the air. This evening, joy was painted across the night sky with a glistening, although waning, full moon.
For me this despair was finally lifted when I listened to a friend and accompanied him to Mahane Yehuda. The market stalls were closed. In their place was a bar set up in the middle of the street filled with hundreds of Israelis smoking and drinking, dancing and singing. We listened together to a band playing a unique blend of jazz, Sephardic and Klezmer music. Here tears and despair do not last for months and years. This morning there were tears. Now there is only laughter and music. The streets and bars are filled with the noise of a city that loves life and celebration. Although today was the 17th of Tammuz yesterday's sadness no longer colored the air. This evening, joy was painted across the night sky with a glistening, although waning, full moon.
Shabbat in Jerusalem
Shabbat is descending on Jerusalem. Hallah and flowers are sold on the street corners. Stores close early. Young students are picked up on street corners by family and friends to make their way to their Shabbat destinations before the setting of the sun. The sound of traffic dissipates with the approach of evening. Shabbat menucha (rest) and oneg (joy) descend on the city. Soon families will walk to friends' homes for dinner. Tomorrow morning the streets will be filled with men hurrying to synagogue with the sails of tallisim flowing behind them. There is a fervor of Shabbat joy among the people of Jerusalem and the feeling of Shabbat rest on its streets. Shabbat Shalom from Jerusalem!
ADDENDUM
Saturday evening the city and its streets return to life. Shabbat goes out around 830 pm. By 9 pm people, cars and buses return to the streets. By 11 pm crowds fill the restaurants and cafes. Here the rhythm of Shabbat is mirrored in its architecture. The pulse of Jewish life moves through the streets and alleys of Jerusalem. This city, the soul of the Jewish people returns to activity. The smell of wild rosemary fills our nostrils as the memory of havdalah spices dissipate.
ADDENDUM
Saturday evening the city and its streets return to life. Shabbat goes out around 830 pm. By 9 pm people, cars and buses return to the streets. By 11 pm crowds fill the restaurants and cafes. Here the rhythm of Shabbat is mirrored in its architecture. The pulse of Jewish life moves through the streets and alleys of Jerusalem. This city, the soul of the Jewish people returns to activity. The smell of wild rosemary fills our nostrils as the memory of havdalah spices dissipate.
Prisoner Release
I arrived in Israel to news of the upcoming prisoner release. Israel has signed an agreement to exchange captured terrorists (including Samir Kuntar who brutally murdered a father and his four year old daughter in 1979) for the bodies of its soldiers, Eldad Regev and Ehud Goldwasser. Israel has agreed to release many Lebanese prisoners even though it means not the return of its soldiers but the bodies of these soldiers killed in the attack that precipitated the 2006 War with Lebanon. That the exchange lacks balance is clear. Despite this fact as of today's writing 60% of Israelis support the deal. There are a great many problems with the deal. We are negotiating with terrorists. We are repatriating terrorists with blood on their hands who will surely receive a hero's welcome orchestrated by Hezbollah in Beruit. Hezbollah and in particular Hamas who still holds Gilad Shalit (and who it seems clear is still alive) will no longer have the incentive to keep their hostages alive. Yet most here appear to favor closure for the Regev and Goldwasser families over these legitimate concerns. Most favor securing the present and healing the wounds of these families over worries of the future. Most believe because our enemies do not fight by the "rules" must not be an excuse to let loose of our moral fiber and Jewish values. Pidyon shevuyim (the redemption of captives) is a Jewish value of the highest order. If I have read the attitude here correctly it is we will fight to protect our families while doing our utmost to preserve our values. In the State of Israel the Jewish choices bubble much closer to the surface. They are at times painful and wrenching, but there is no mistaking that Jewish values animinate the soul of this country.
You Don't Mess with the Zohan
Ok I admit it. I have seen Adam Sandler's new movie "You Don't Mess with the Zohan." It was a great laugh. There was no great message, no insightful sermon material, except it is good to laugh out loud. Part of what was so funny is that the premise is absurd--all Israelis and Palestinians have to do to make peace is move to Amerika, cut and style hair, fight corporate greed, fall in love and make love--a lot. It reminded me of the outrageous short film, West Bank Story. Nonetheless it is healthy to laugh out loud and not take yourself too seriously all the time--at least in a darkened movie theatre.
I also enjoyed how much Israeli music was featured in the film. I am a big fan of Israeli hip hop, especially the popular group HaDag Nahash (Snake Fish). I thought you would enjoy the YouTube video of the song "Hene Ani Ba " (Here I Come) featured in the movie. Also be sure to check out the group's classic song, "Shirat HaStiker " (The Sticker Song). My love for Israel extends well beyond "Jerusalem of Gold."
And by the way I really love hummus!
I also enjoyed how much Israeli music was featured in the film. I am a big fan of Israeli hip hop, especially the popular group HaDag Nahash (Snake Fish). I thought you would enjoy the YouTube video of the song "Hene Ani Ba " (Here I Come) featured in the movie. Also be sure to check out the group's classic song, "Shirat HaStiker " (The Sticker Song). My love for Israel extends well beyond "Jerusalem of Gold."
And by the way I really love hummus!
Counting Our Blessings
Hadassah Magazine June/July 2008
Commentary: Counting Our Blessings
The Talmud teaches that a person who enjoys the pleasures of this world without reciting a blessing is like a thief who steals from God (Berakhot 35a). So the rabbis composed blessings for every imaginable event. Some are familiar, such as Ha-motzi on bread or the Sheheheyanu we recite on momentous occasions. Others are less familiar: on seeing a rainbow or the ocean or hearing thunder. We can even express gratitude for the fragrance of a rose....
I followed the rabbis’ counsel at Sam’s bar mitzva. An autistic boy with significant special needs, Sam fidgeted about the bima, picking at his talis, which agitated him at times. In lieu of a sermon, he read brief explanations of drawings of the Torah portion. Still, he touched the tzitzit to the exact place in the Torah and then recited the aliya blessing from memory. The congregation sang “Siman Tov,” but it did not seem appropriate to wish him the threefold hope of Jewish success: Torah, huppa and ma’asim tovim (good deeds). Instead, I recited the blessing: “Barukh Ata…meshaneh ha-beriyot, Blessed are You… Who makes the creations different” (Berakhot 58b). I did not know what else to say. Perhaps I should just have cried along with his parents.
But these ancient words seemed most appropriate to the occasion. They insist that we be grateful, that we thank God for what we have. Curiously, I stumbled over the words of the blessing. In Hebrew, a direct object is often separated from the verb by the untranslatable word et. This blessing lacks that. My sense of Hebrew grammar wanted to add the word, but the tradition codified the blessing without it. So I stammered. Then the blessing’s true import occurred to me: Perhaps the blessing is intentionally broken. Let those who are so at ease with the words of Hebrew blessings stumble.
Perhaps the purpose of this blessing is not to make me whole and force me to think of the perfect God and the extraordinary variety of His creation, but instead to make me broken and realize my imperfection. In that moment, Sam was not broken. In that moment of brokenness, I was the student and the young boy the teacher.
Commentary: Counting Our Blessings
The Talmud teaches that a person who enjoys the pleasures of this world without reciting a blessing is like a thief who steals from God (Berakhot 35a). So the rabbis composed blessings for every imaginable event. Some are familiar, such as Ha-motzi on bread or the Sheheheyanu we recite on momentous occasions. Others are less familiar: on seeing a rainbow or the ocean or hearing thunder. We can even express gratitude for the fragrance of a rose....
I followed the rabbis’ counsel at Sam’s bar mitzva. An autistic boy with significant special needs, Sam fidgeted about the bima, picking at his talis, which agitated him at times. In lieu of a sermon, he read brief explanations of drawings of the Torah portion. Still, he touched the tzitzit to the exact place in the Torah and then recited the aliya blessing from memory. The congregation sang “Siman Tov,” but it did not seem appropriate to wish him the threefold hope of Jewish success: Torah, huppa and ma’asim tovim (good deeds). Instead, I recited the blessing: “Barukh Ata…meshaneh ha-beriyot, Blessed are You… Who makes the creations different” (Berakhot 58b). I did not know what else to say. Perhaps I should just have cried along with his parents.
But these ancient words seemed most appropriate to the occasion. They insist that we be grateful, that we thank God for what we have. Curiously, I stumbled over the words of the blessing. In Hebrew, a direct object is often separated from the verb by the untranslatable word et. This blessing lacks that. My sense of Hebrew grammar wanted to add the word, but the tradition codified the blessing without it. So I stammered. Then the blessing’s true import occurred to me: Perhaps the blessing is intentionally broken. Let those who are so at ease with the words of Hebrew blessings stumble.
Perhaps the purpose of this blessing is not to make me whole and force me to think of the perfect God and the extraordinary variety of His creation, but instead to make me broken and realize my imperfection. In that moment, Sam was not broken. In that moment of brokenness, I was the student and the young boy the teacher.
Masters of Our Own Fate
Hadassah Magazine May 2008
Commentary: Masters of Our Own Fate
This month, the State of Israel is celebrating its 60th birthday, and most Jews have grown accustomed to the nation’s existence. One day when I was teaching the kindergartners in my synagogue school, I asked them, “How old do you think Israel is?” “A thousand years.” “Oh, no,” I said. “Five thousand years?” They kept shouting out higher numbers. When I finally told them the correct answer, they stared at me in disbelief. I explained how the history of Israel is ancient, but the state is very young. I told them that some of their great-grandparents fought to make Israel an independent nation. Do we take Israel for granted? I hope not, since only in Israel can our freedom be wed to our ancient land. Only in Israel do Jewish rights and history come first and foremost....
Last summer, on one erev Shabbat, I strolled down the trendy Emek Refaim Street in Jerusalem. The day was winding down. There was very little traffic. People were carrying bouquets of flowers for their Shabbat tables and last-minute purchases of food and wine. I wandered into the rebuilt Cafe Hillel for an espresso and thought about the homicide bombing that had destroyed this restaurant on September 9, 2003. I thought of the lives that were shattered. But when I looked around, all I saw were smiles and all I could hear was laughing. Jerusalem is happiness built on ruins.
My weeks of study in Israel were framed by the minor fast day of the 17th of Tammuz, marking the day the Romans besieged this city, and three weeks later by the full fast day of Tisha B’Av, when Israel’s enemies destroyed the First and Second Temples in 586 B.C.E. and 70 C.E.
Tisha B’Av is a day of mourning, when Jeremiah’s Book of Lamentations is chanted. In past years, I had gone to the Kotel on Tisha B’Av, the closest place to the ancient Temple’s site. This year, instead, I went to the Haas Promenade, which overlooks the village of Abu Tor and, in the distance, the southern side of the Old City, where members of a local Conservative synagogue gathered. Unlike the scene at the Wall, where the mood is mournful, this crowd of 400 recited ancient prayers and also modern songs, including Hannah Senesh’s impassioned “Eli, Eli.”
One would think that this holiday, too, would color the city’s mood, but the walls of the Old City were aglow. There may well be untold ruins beneath our feet, but despite ancient grief and ancient exiles, there is no ruin in the air. I revel in the songs of thousands of Jews. I rejoice that we have returned to this city. Israel writes Jewish history each and every day. Indeed, 60 years after its modern rebirth, Israel waves a finger at fate.
Commentary: Masters of Our Own Fate
This month, the State of Israel is celebrating its 60th birthday, and most Jews have grown accustomed to the nation’s existence. One day when I was teaching the kindergartners in my synagogue school, I asked them, “How old do you think Israel is?” “A thousand years.” “Oh, no,” I said. “Five thousand years?” They kept shouting out higher numbers. When I finally told them the correct answer, they stared at me in disbelief. I explained how the history of Israel is ancient, but the state is very young. I told them that some of their great-grandparents fought to make Israel an independent nation. Do we take Israel for granted? I hope not, since only in Israel can our freedom be wed to our ancient land. Only in Israel do Jewish rights and history come first and foremost....
Last summer, on one erev Shabbat, I strolled down the trendy Emek Refaim Street in Jerusalem. The day was winding down. There was very little traffic. People were carrying bouquets of flowers for their Shabbat tables and last-minute purchases of food and wine. I wandered into the rebuilt Cafe Hillel for an espresso and thought about the homicide bombing that had destroyed this restaurant on September 9, 2003. I thought of the lives that were shattered. But when I looked around, all I saw were smiles and all I could hear was laughing. Jerusalem is happiness built on ruins.
My weeks of study in Israel were framed by the minor fast day of the 17th of Tammuz, marking the day the Romans besieged this city, and three weeks later by the full fast day of Tisha B’Av, when Israel’s enemies destroyed the First and Second Temples in 586 B.C.E. and 70 C.E.
Tisha B’Av is a day of mourning, when Jeremiah’s Book of Lamentations is chanted. In past years, I had gone to the Kotel on Tisha B’Av, the closest place to the ancient Temple’s site. This year, instead, I went to the Haas Promenade, which overlooks the village of Abu Tor and, in the distance, the southern side of the Old City, where members of a local Conservative synagogue gathered. Unlike the scene at the Wall, where the mood is mournful, this crowd of 400 recited ancient prayers and also modern songs, including Hannah Senesh’s impassioned “Eli, Eli.”
One would think that this holiday, too, would color the city’s mood, but the walls of the Old City were aglow. There may well be untold ruins beneath our feet, but despite ancient grief and ancient exiles, there is no ruin in the air. I revel in the songs of thousands of Jews. I rejoice that we have returned to this city. Israel writes Jewish history each and every day. Indeed, 60 years after its modern rebirth, Israel waves a finger at fate.