Wednesday, May 9, 2012
I am a ….. TEACHER and I Love It!
In the movie Footnote by Joseph Cedar (this year’s Israeli entry for Best Foreign Film Oscar), we see a poignant and at often times painful story about a father and son who, though at odds about life, learning and so much else, are at the end of the day both …… teachers. By the way, I HIGHLY recommend the movie as an insight into some fundamental aspects of our lives collectively as learners and as Jews and as human beings.
In a fairly early scene (don’t worry, I won’t give away the movie!) we see how the son wants his father to be someone important and while his father is a college professor, a researcher, a Biblical and philology scholar; he simply states that he is a TEACHER! Who would be proud of being a teacher, according to the musings of the son?
As they relate to each other and to their respective worlds, you see frustration of lost dreams, wonder at the value of one’s work and so much else that one contemplates as most, if not all, of his career is behind him. A real Kohelet moment if you will, you know, “Everything under the sun is futile,” “what is the purpose of a man’s labor?” and so on. By the way, I also recommend reading this treatise attributed by many to King Solomon in our Tanach (also known as Ecclesiastes in English) if you have not done so already. There you go, one book and one movie for your summer entertainment (and learning) list!
So I have been a TEACHER for the past 37 years (ouch!) and I hope to continue for many to come. Oh yes, I have lectured, published, run schools, run Bureaus of Jewish Education, consulted, and done so much else, but at the end of the day all of these different involvements that pepper my resume add up to TEACHER, this is what I am (and proudly so!) and this is what I will continue to be no matter what chapters play out in my future professional activities.
I grew up with the word “Melamed” thrown around a lot. A Melamed is a revered teacher in Hebrew, but the word actually means “to bring about learning.” In other words, in Jewish/Hebrew culture, a teacher is seen within the perspective of facilitating the activity of learning. It is accountable and defined beyond itself, as opposed to English dictionaries who define teacher often as “one who teaches.” Years ago, I was a member of a wonderful organization called the Coalition on Alternatives in Jewish Education. Their motto was “Lilmod uLeLamed” -- “to learn and to teach.” I often joke that I am in Grade 52, that is, I have been in school that long and am still learning. I really believe that the most important thing I bring to my classes, which I refer to as “learning circles”, is my experience as a learner, trying to inspire other learning. This is a process that remains exciting, fresh and new. This is the greatest perk of teaching as far as I can see; the ability to get paid and be a professional whose purpose is to keep learning and facilitating that process for others. This is the TEACHER that I think the father in Footnote had in mind; and this is the type of professional our best teachers are.
Oh yes, and by the way, before I forget, this is National Educator’s Week, so go hug a teacher, thank a teacher, or acknowledge a teacher…. And for those of us who are in fact TEACHERS, YAY US! Keep on learnin’!
Monday, April 16, 2012
How many different faces does G-d have?
How many different faces does G-d have?
As we enter the period of Sefirat HaOmer, the counting of the Omer, we are even more mindful of time and its passage. We are coming out of the zone of Z’man Heiruteinu, the time of our freedom with the leaving of Egypt and the life of slavery it held for us as celebrated and observed during Pesah and now beginning to think about the waiting period for our celebration of Z’man Matan Torateinu, the giving of our precious Torah as celebrated and observed during Shavuot seven weeks later. During this time, one of the “new takes” I have decided to intentionally observe this year in my learning, teaching, prayers, etc. is the many different ways that we interact with G-d and vice versa. During the singing of Dayenu at our Seder table, I was thinking of the different tasks and actions that G-d brings into G-d’s relationship with us. Some are reflective of G-d’s caretaking and gentle manner with us as Rachmana, Av HaRachamim and as Adoshem among other names; other actions represent G-d’s need to keep us on course and be our judge and disciplinarian as G-d does as Elokeinu and Elokei Avoteinu; there are actions in which we are to model and parallel what G-d does on high (El Elyon) in our own world; and so on.
I always loved the notion that the Hebrew word for face is Panim, a plural form, because actually we all have so many different faces. We have a happy face, a sad expression, a frustrated look, and joyful countenance and so forth. We should remember that we were made in the image of ELOKEINU (as in BeTzelem Elokim, in the image of G-d we were made). Of course, the very word, ELOKIM is also in the plural, for much of the same reason. We may not always like the face we have on and we may not always feel so pleased with the aspect that G-d shows us at various intervals, but just as our ONE FACE has the capacity to show so many different emotions and feelings, our ONE AND ONLY ONE G-D shows us many different aspects and elements of our lives and G-d’s impact in our lives. We should remember that all of these different aspects and elements of G-d’s place in our lives parallels the many different expressions and faces we all have with our singular composition we name “face.” If we think of G-d in this way, then the notion that G-d is so many different manifestations to so many different people can help us in relating to G-d in our own lives and to respect that other people with their own personalities and needs are doing the same. G-d is not one static constant in this thinking but rather a multi-faceted and ever moving being, as we, the creations of G-d, are.
We are taught by Chazal (our revered Rabbis) that the miracle of Z’man Matan Torateinu (the time of the receiving of the Torah) was that with all of our various perspectives and approaches and voices, for that moment in time we were of “one voice and one heart” and that the unity of purpose at this amazing moment was truly unfathomable. May we always preserve and value our differences and the many ways in which we relate to and consider G-d while observing the vision of Zechariah, the prophet who gives us the verse we all say daily in the Aleinu, “On that day, may G-d be One and G-d’s Name be One.” One, that is, with G-d’s many different faces and manifestations; and One in our minds, as varied and differentiated as we are as well!
As we enter the period of Sefirat HaOmer, the counting of the Omer, we are even more mindful of time and its passage. We are coming out of the zone of Z’man Heiruteinu, the time of our freedom with the leaving of Egypt and the life of slavery it held for us as celebrated and observed during Pesah and now beginning to think about the waiting period for our celebration of Z’man Matan Torateinu, the giving of our precious Torah as celebrated and observed during Shavuot seven weeks later. During this time, one of the “new takes” I have decided to intentionally observe this year in my learning, teaching, prayers, etc. is the many different ways that we interact with G-d and vice versa. During the singing of Dayenu at our Seder table, I was thinking of the different tasks and actions that G-d brings into G-d’s relationship with us. Some are reflective of G-d’s caretaking and gentle manner with us as Rachmana, Av HaRachamim and as Adoshem among other names; other actions represent G-d’s need to keep us on course and be our judge and disciplinarian as G-d does as Elokeinu and Elokei Avoteinu; there are actions in which we are to model and parallel what G-d does on high (El Elyon) in our own world; and so on.
I always loved the notion that the Hebrew word for face is Panim, a plural form, because actually we all have so many different faces. We have a happy face, a sad expression, a frustrated look, and joyful countenance and so forth. We should remember that we were made in the image of ELOKEINU (as in BeTzelem Elokim, in the image of G-d we were made). Of course, the very word, ELOKIM is also in the plural, for much of the same reason. We may not always like the face we have on and we may not always feel so pleased with the aspect that G-d shows us at various intervals, but just as our ONE FACE has the capacity to show so many different emotions and feelings, our ONE AND ONLY ONE G-D shows us many different aspects and elements of our lives and G-d’s impact in our lives. We should remember that all of these different aspects and elements of G-d’s place in our lives parallels the many different expressions and faces we all have with our singular composition we name “face.” If we think of G-d in this way, then the notion that G-d is so many different manifestations to so many different people can help us in relating to G-d in our own lives and to respect that other people with their own personalities and needs are doing the same. G-d is not one static constant in this thinking but rather a multi-faceted and ever moving being, as we, the creations of G-d, are.
We are taught by Chazal (our revered Rabbis) that the miracle of Z’man Matan Torateinu (the time of the receiving of the Torah) was that with all of our various perspectives and approaches and voices, for that moment in time we were of “one voice and one heart” and that the unity of purpose at this amazing moment was truly unfathomable. May we always preserve and value our differences and the many ways in which we relate to and consider G-d while observing the vision of Zechariah, the prophet who gives us the verse we all say daily in the Aleinu, “On that day, may G-d be One and G-d’s Name be One.” One, that is, with G-d’s many different faces and manifestations; and One in our minds, as varied and differentiated as we are as well!
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Who are the Four Children at your Pesah Seder Table?
Who are the Four Children at your Pesah Seder Table?
I am presently teaching a unit of study to high school students entitled Halacha and Homosexuality. It is an exploration of critical texts of our Tanach, Mishnah, Gemara, Mishneh Torah and other sources that require us to look at the texts and the laws of our Jewish system in the expansive way it appears that Chazal and even Ribbonu shel Olam would have us do while addressing an admittedly challenging issue in terms of acceptance of those into our community when we may not honestly (or otherwise) be sure what we are supposed to do. I am also dealing right now with the varied reactions that so many people in my classes and world are having regarding the invisible children and their plight, given the recent publicity surrounding this issue. Given the season, I am in the midst of planning two separate events that promote understanding between people of different faith communities. Additionally, I am presently working on creating a new school and in so doing have spent a lot of time learning about learning differences and various types of disabilities, all of which must be accommodated when considering who has the right to a proper and full education according to the State of Pennsylvania. Finally, we are also in a season in which there are many opportunities and reasons to share and care with our resources and do deeds of Tzedakah in our community and beyond – easing difficult situations for many people in poverty or suffering from other socioeconomic or health challenges.
So here are a variety of instances in which the “other” becomes us – we are connected to and/or invested in the well being of all by virtue of our deeds and our working towards inclusion of groups that we may or may not consider to be part of “us.”
One of my favorite parts of the Seder (hmmmmm, there are really so many) is the reading of the Four Sons, one so wise and knowledgeable about the things of which he is knowledgeable, one so disconnected (by virtue of which he is called wicked, with which I am not so sure I agree), one who needs things explained in more simplistic, basic terms, and the fourth who does not know enough to ask a question. There have been many suggestions that there is actually a fifth son or child, the one who does not even come to the table. What a telling group this is for ourselves as members of the Jewish community and of the world community!
Now, let’s think about these four or five ways of dealing with “the one who is different than the masses.” How many different applications could we possibly come up with, whether we are talking about the GLBTQ members of our community who may be considered to be excluded by others and sometimes by their own experiences? What about those with learning differences in our educational community, who may ask questions WE don’t understand or that seem too simple? What about members of our community with different skill sets and abilities, different backgrounds, and so forth, who may possess wisdom and insight that elude us? How do we insure that all members of our community are indeed sitting at tables and are included in the discussion? How do we bring those back who have felt excluded either by our actions or their own experiences?
As we begin to think about Pesah and the four sons and the many lessons they bring us, let us consider what they teach us and the many different applications we can employ to show that we have learned these important lessons and that we use the Seder experience to share and pass these lessons on to our children and the future generations that will ensue. Maybe we can even include this in our Seder discussion as we consider the phrase “Let ALL who are hungry (or needing us in any way) come in (to our communities and to our lives).”
I am presently teaching a unit of study to high school students entitled Halacha and Homosexuality. It is an exploration of critical texts of our Tanach, Mishnah, Gemara, Mishneh Torah and other sources that require us to look at the texts and the laws of our Jewish system in the expansive way it appears that Chazal and even Ribbonu shel Olam would have us do while addressing an admittedly challenging issue in terms of acceptance of those into our community when we may not honestly (or otherwise) be sure what we are supposed to do. I am also dealing right now with the varied reactions that so many people in my classes and world are having regarding the invisible children and their plight, given the recent publicity surrounding this issue. Given the season, I am in the midst of planning two separate events that promote understanding between people of different faith communities. Additionally, I am presently working on creating a new school and in so doing have spent a lot of time learning about learning differences and various types of disabilities, all of which must be accommodated when considering who has the right to a proper and full education according to the State of Pennsylvania. Finally, we are also in a season in which there are many opportunities and reasons to share and care with our resources and do deeds of Tzedakah in our community and beyond – easing difficult situations for many people in poverty or suffering from other socioeconomic or health challenges.
So here are a variety of instances in which the “other” becomes us – we are connected to and/or invested in the well being of all by virtue of our deeds and our working towards inclusion of groups that we may or may not consider to be part of “us.”
One of my favorite parts of the Seder (hmmmmm, there are really so many) is the reading of the Four Sons, one so wise and knowledgeable about the things of which he is knowledgeable, one so disconnected (by virtue of which he is called wicked, with which I am not so sure I agree), one who needs things explained in more simplistic, basic terms, and the fourth who does not know enough to ask a question. There have been many suggestions that there is actually a fifth son or child, the one who does not even come to the table. What a telling group this is for ourselves as members of the Jewish community and of the world community!
Now, let’s think about these four or five ways of dealing with “the one who is different than the masses.” How many different applications could we possibly come up with, whether we are talking about the GLBTQ members of our community who may be considered to be excluded by others and sometimes by their own experiences? What about those with learning differences in our educational community, who may ask questions WE don’t understand or that seem too simple? What about members of our community with different skill sets and abilities, different backgrounds, and so forth, who may possess wisdom and insight that elude us? How do we insure that all members of our community are indeed sitting at tables and are included in the discussion? How do we bring those back who have felt excluded either by our actions or their own experiences?
As we begin to think about Pesah and the four sons and the many lessons they bring us, let us consider what they teach us and the many different applications we can employ to show that we have learned these important lessons and that we use the Seder experience to share and pass these lessons on to our children and the future generations that will ensue. Maybe we can even include this in our Seder discussion as we consider the phrase “Let ALL who are hungry (or needing us in any way) come in (to our communities and to our lives).”
Monday, March 26, 2012
A Belated Hodesh Tov for Nisan!
In the beginning of the Maftir portion this past Shabbat, we read as follows:
HaShem said to Moshe and Aharon in the Land of Egypt, “This month shall be for you the beginning of the months; it shall be for you the first of the months of the year.” (Shemot 12: 1 – 2)
It was especially poignant this year to read this on Shabbat because it was in fact a Shabbat Rosh Hodesh, but not just any Shabbat Rosh Hodesh, but Shabbat Rosh Hodesh Nisan. So why should we care? After all, with all the Pesah preparations and planning, who has time for this additional Jewish observance? WHO HAS TIME, you ask? Why, WE DO, as free people!!!!!
This commandment to observe not just Rosh Hodesh, but specifically ROSH HODESH NISSAN, and this year as SHABBAT HAHODESH, is the first mitzvah given by G-d to the nation of Israel as a free people, a collective of free individuals tied together by nationhood, by the shared experience of leaving Egypt and slavery behind under the watchful eye and outstretched arm of G-d. AND IT IS QUITE IMPORTANT!
Consider this --- a few months ago, we celebrated and observed Chanukah. With that holiday, we cherish the spirit and fortitude we as Jews have had to fight for and value our freedom. Antiochus and the oppressive Greek/Syrian entity that dictated so much for the lives of its Jews so long ago forbade three practices specifically, Brit Milah for our baby boys, the observance and celebration of Shabbat and the marking of our months through Rosh Hodesh. Why these three? Without a Brit Milah, one’s very identity is questioned as he cannot bear the mark of being a Jew and living as G-d commanded. Without Shabbat, we cannot celebrate and refresh ourselves as community and as individuals – the very essence of our weeks and lives was removed. And Rosh Hodesh – by marking our new moons and keeping track of our days and cycles of time, we were living as people who had a sense of control. Take that away, have someone else mark and define your time, and you lose a basic right of existence and freedom.
We as Jews are always conscious of the marking of time. Our days begin with sundown and the transition continues until the coming out of stars. We pray according to daily markers of time. We mark our weekly Shabbatot and keep track of our holidays and celebrations through our luni (some say loony) solar calendar. THIS CANNOT BE DONE WITHOUT FREEDOM. Any survivor of the Holocaust or of the days before Soviet Jews were able to leave the land of their oppression will tell you this is so.
We know that one of the worst forms of torture and inhumane treatment of fellow human beings is to take away their sense of time. This is used in torture of prisoners, and is the source of so much depression and disorientation for those who live in regions where time may not be so easily marked by simple things we all take for granted – sun rise and sun down.
Marking our time for us is a gift – OUR GIFT as free people who left the slavery and the beatings and the determination of our schedules by our oppressors in Egypt so long ago. Let us appreciate this gift and use it well. May the new year of time, beginning with Rosh Hodesh Nissan be one in which we use our gift of time purposefully, appreciatively and without taking it for granted.
HODESH NISAN TOV!!!!!
HaShem said to Moshe and Aharon in the Land of Egypt, “This month shall be for you the beginning of the months; it shall be for you the first of the months of the year.” (Shemot 12: 1 – 2)
It was especially poignant this year to read this on Shabbat because it was in fact a Shabbat Rosh Hodesh, but not just any Shabbat Rosh Hodesh, but Shabbat Rosh Hodesh Nisan. So why should we care? After all, with all the Pesah preparations and planning, who has time for this additional Jewish observance? WHO HAS TIME, you ask? Why, WE DO, as free people!!!!!
This commandment to observe not just Rosh Hodesh, but specifically ROSH HODESH NISSAN, and this year as SHABBAT HAHODESH, is the first mitzvah given by G-d to the nation of Israel as a free people, a collective of free individuals tied together by nationhood, by the shared experience of leaving Egypt and slavery behind under the watchful eye and outstretched arm of G-d. AND IT IS QUITE IMPORTANT!
Consider this --- a few months ago, we celebrated and observed Chanukah. With that holiday, we cherish the spirit and fortitude we as Jews have had to fight for and value our freedom. Antiochus and the oppressive Greek/Syrian entity that dictated so much for the lives of its Jews so long ago forbade three practices specifically, Brit Milah for our baby boys, the observance and celebration of Shabbat and the marking of our months through Rosh Hodesh. Why these three? Without a Brit Milah, one’s very identity is questioned as he cannot bear the mark of being a Jew and living as G-d commanded. Without Shabbat, we cannot celebrate and refresh ourselves as community and as individuals – the very essence of our weeks and lives was removed. And Rosh Hodesh – by marking our new moons and keeping track of our days and cycles of time, we were living as people who had a sense of control. Take that away, have someone else mark and define your time, and you lose a basic right of existence and freedom.
We as Jews are always conscious of the marking of time. Our days begin with sundown and the transition continues until the coming out of stars. We pray according to daily markers of time. We mark our weekly Shabbatot and keep track of our holidays and celebrations through our luni (some say loony) solar calendar. THIS CANNOT BE DONE WITHOUT FREEDOM. Any survivor of the Holocaust or of the days before Soviet Jews were able to leave the land of their oppression will tell you this is so.
We know that one of the worst forms of torture and inhumane treatment of fellow human beings is to take away their sense of time. This is used in torture of prisoners, and is the source of so much depression and disorientation for those who live in regions where time may not be so easily marked by simple things we all take for granted – sun rise and sun down.
Marking our time for us is a gift – OUR GIFT as free people who left the slavery and the beatings and the determination of our schedules by our oppressors in Egypt so long ago. Let us appreciate this gift and use it well. May the new year of time, beginning with Rosh Hodesh Nissan be one in which we use our gift of time purposefully, appreciatively and without taking it for granted.
HODESH NISAN TOV!!!!!
Monday, March 12, 2012
An Interesting Lesson from the Academy Awards
So, we are not such “religious” movie-goers, that is to say, we rarely go. Last year, when the Academy Awards were on, we realized that we had no right to watch the Awards as we had not been to a single movie all year and didn’t even know what they were and who was in them. So, instead, while the show was airing, we elected to go watch The King’s Speech, about which he had heard so much. We returned home in time to see it win the best actor award and the best picture award among others. We loved the movie and its message, so were happy to see we chose well. This year, we improved a bit. Prior to the start of the show in which Oscar is the star, we had seen three movies, the third of which we caught at a 4:30 p.m. showing Sunday, a few hours before the start of the big Hollywood bash in which the awards are distributed. So, we spent Sunday afternoon watching and thinking about The Artist. Once again, we picked not a, but THE winner.
Soon after the announcement of this as the Best Movie of the Year, it occurred to me that the Academy chose films for two years in a row about trying to find one’s voice! I really think there is an important lesson here for all of us as human beings, as well as for the Jewish individual and collective soul. By the way, another excellent film we saw, The Help, fits into this thematic rubric as well.
With the concentration of text study that is just part of my life and the ongoing conversations about those texts between my students and myself, my friends and colleagues and myself and my family members and myself, I am fully aware of how much words and speech are an ongoing part of my life. This is even before we get to the technology formats that further enable the spreading of words (like what you are reading right now!), the bombardment of so many words and sounds and so forth.
One of the scenes in The Artist that just struck me as so poignant (which is I believe the intention of all involved with the film) was when the sounds of everything surrounding this silent film star turned into this deafening and painful cacophony of sound. During this sequence, I was thinking about how I always love to be one of the first to be in the Netilat Yadayim line at our Shabbat and Yom Tov meals, simply because I love (really, believe it or not) the permission to just be quiet for a while with no one expecting any words to come out of my mouth. I am left with my thoughts and I just smile. For me, who REFUSES to stand in line for food at a buffet, this is a line I will get in first if possible!
I DO feel the overwhelming sounds of words and am often struck by the degree to which people think (or not) before those words are sent out into the airwaves that then resound with sound for all of us. We in the United States are certainly experiencing this now, for example, with all of the misspoken comments and other problems going on in certain political posturing of candidates for President in the upcoming elections.
We are all aware of how VERBAL bullying has taken a more prominent place in our lists of concerns as being as dangerous, or even more so, than physical bullying. There are campaigns to get all of us to THINK BEFORE WE SPEAK, as the age old adage goes. There are days of intentional silence in various circles, and so on.
And now Hollywood comes to teach us that finding our voice in a thoughtful, intentional and deliberate way might not be so easy for a variety of reasons in many different situations. Black “help” in the South found their voice through the writing project of one of the more fringe members of the community, The Artist found his voice in his tap dancing feet, and King George VI finally was able to find his voice when it was so needed at a critical time in his country’s (and world) history.
Maybe if we all had more challenges that would require us to work harder to find our voice, we would value it more and use it appropriately to build, not to destroy; to improve, not to make things worse; and to validate and include all, not insult and exclude them. Otherwise, our voices screaming and fighting too often sounds to me like a cacophony of sounds that can be painful and harmful.
Soon after the announcement of this as the Best Movie of the Year, it occurred to me that the Academy chose films for two years in a row about trying to find one’s voice! I really think there is an important lesson here for all of us as human beings, as well as for the Jewish individual and collective soul. By the way, another excellent film we saw, The Help, fits into this thematic rubric as well.
With the concentration of text study that is just part of my life and the ongoing conversations about those texts between my students and myself, my friends and colleagues and myself and my family members and myself, I am fully aware of how much words and speech are an ongoing part of my life. This is even before we get to the technology formats that further enable the spreading of words (like what you are reading right now!), the bombardment of so many words and sounds and so forth.
One of the scenes in The Artist that just struck me as so poignant (which is I believe the intention of all involved with the film) was when the sounds of everything surrounding this silent film star turned into this deafening and painful cacophony of sound. During this sequence, I was thinking about how I always love to be one of the first to be in the Netilat Yadayim line at our Shabbat and Yom Tov meals, simply because I love (really, believe it or not) the permission to just be quiet for a while with no one expecting any words to come out of my mouth. I am left with my thoughts and I just smile. For me, who REFUSES to stand in line for food at a buffet, this is a line I will get in first if possible!
I DO feel the overwhelming sounds of words and am often struck by the degree to which people think (or not) before those words are sent out into the airwaves that then resound with sound for all of us. We in the United States are certainly experiencing this now, for example, with all of the misspoken comments and other problems going on in certain political posturing of candidates for President in the upcoming elections.
We are all aware of how VERBAL bullying has taken a more prominent place in our lists of concerns as being as dangerous, or even more so, than physical bullying. There are campaigns to get all of us to THINK BEFORE WE SPEAK, as the age old adage goes. There are days of intentional silence in various circles, and so on.
And now Hollywood comes to teach us that finding our voice in a thoughtful, intentional and deliberate way might not be so easy for a variety of reasons in many different situations. Black “help” in the South found their voice through the writing project of one of the more fringe members of the community, The Artist found his voice in his tap dancing feet, and King George VI finally was able to find his voice when it was so needed at a critical time in his country’s (and world) history.
Maybe if we all had more challenges that would require us to work harder to find our voice, we would value it more and use it appropriately to build, not to destroy; to improve, not to make things worse; and to validate and include all, not insult and exclude them. Otherwise, our voices screaming and fighting too often sounds to me like a cacophony of sounds that can be painful and harmful.
Friday, February 24, 2012
On Being Excluded for Working for Inclusion
I often say and have written here before about the notion that I truly and humbly believe that as an observant Shomer Mitzvot Jew, I have a MORAL IMPERATIVE to work for the safety and inclusion of all members of our Jewish family and our human family. I personally think we all do but as I always, explain I can only make “I statements,” so this is the principle I will use. This is why I vex over such things as whom I should help with my admittedly limited Tzedakah dollars (see previous post) and how we need to work tirelessly to build bridges that join all sectors of our community. This is also why I am often “not fully acceptable” in my own religious community, which is an entirely different topic.
This is why I sit on our area’s Interfaith Dialogue Steering Committee, am a member of our JFCS Task Force of Inclusion of GLBTQ Members of our community, make a point to participate in group experiences whether or not I may agree with that group’s agenda, teach my children and students to accept and value all human beings as much as possible, write and publish curricular pieces on these topics, work with conflict resolution and inter-group dialogue, visit places and work with groups across both my comfort and courage zone and try to encourage others to do the same.
So several weeks ago, I was at at one of my inclusion focused group meetings and we were discussing the various groups that we are concerned about and represent as a collective. When my turn came to share, I spoke on behalf of the GLBTQ members of the Orthodox and more ritualistically observant part of the Jewish spectrum and tried to explain how often the issues for this part of our Jewish community are different and specific to the need to reconcile the dictates of Halacha and the texts that inform how we live with what we know about how people function and what our medical experts have taught us about sexual and gender identity.
I must admit that I was caught a bit by surprise when another individual at the table immediately responded by speaking rather forcibly and ultimately in a quite loud voice (to the point of being embarrassing) about how I am a hypocrite for being part of my community and how this community and I are racist and extremist and bigoted…. And on went the reaction. While this clearly had an impact on me (I often feel like I am going into a type of internal shock in these situations), I practiced my own advice which is to stay calm and reasonable in such situations. I responded in a soft voice, trying to reason. Immediately it was clear I could not offer any response so I simply said “I guess we will have to agree to disagree.” At this point, the individual shouted “No you are wrong! There is no agreement for anything here!” I shrugged, for what else could I do. The kind person sitting next to me (whom I really did not know) wrote me a quick note, asking if I was okay! Other looks of concern could be seen around the table, which were greatly appreciated.
One other member of the group picked up on the statement claiming agreement and the bashing of all things Orthodox (with no attempts to clarify or specify) was off and running. The facilitator of the discussion basically suggested moving on and so we did.
A few of my students were at this meeting (I brought them) and I could see they were shaken. I explained to them that I heard a wonderful statement recently that goes like this: We must have even more compassion for those who do not have compassion. How applicable this is to so many different sides of the table, so to speak.
As I was processing this experience and the stinging feeling that it produces, I remember about twelve years ago when I was attending one of the first showings of “Trembling Before G-d,” the seminal and groundbreaking film about Homosexuality in the Orthodox Jewish community and world. It was at Beit Ahavah, the area’s GLBTQ synagogue. In the course of the discussion, a woman stood up in the back of the room and began to really attack all people and all things Orthodox. She took the position that she did not understand how anyone could be part of such a horrible group, and that GLBTQ Jews should just be that and disassociate themselves from anything Orthodox. She went on for a few moments at which point the President of the Congregation looked at me helplessly and somewhat embarrassed (I had come with my daughter and a good friend as I had known Steve Greenberg who was associated with the film) and I indicated that I would respond. I basically stood up and explained that there are always those who will not accept others, however to make blanket statements that “All X (in this case, Orthodox people) are Y (horrible and unaccepting)” does not really serve any purpose. I explained that she was using the same type of blanket statements to malign us that others would use against her identified social group of acceptance, and for which they need to be called to task. “We are here with you in solidarity, acceptance and understanding. Are you really stating that you want us to leave the room?” I sat down and mostly all of those present applauded.
So, here I sit. I still encourage my students, my children, my friends, anyone I can to be part of as many different groupings as they can. We MUST be inclusive. We are taught in the details and big ideas of Halacha to be inclusive. Thirty six times in our Torah we are taught to accept all those amongst us and to NOT OPPRESS OR HARM anyone as a stranger in the way that we were treated in our years in Egypt. I will not stop going out on the limb and joining groups in which I may be one of the few, if not the only one representing this bridging together of Jewish observance and social/human acceptance and appreciation. I still believe it is my moral imperative to do so. It is in this conviction I take comfort when I am excluded because of my admittedly inclusive agenda.
This is why I sit on our area’s Interfaith Dialogue Steering Committee, am a member of our JFCS Task Force of Inclusion of GLBTQ Members of our community, make a point to participate in group experiences whether or not I may agree with that group’s agenda, teach my children and students to accept and value all human beings as much as possible, write and publish curricular pieces on these topics, work with conflict resolution and inter-group dialogue, visit places and work with groups across both my comfort and courage zone and try to encourage others to do the same.
So several weeks ago, I was at at one of my inclusion focused group meetings and we were discussing the various groups that we are concerned about and represent as a collective. When my turn came to share, I spoke on behalf of the GLBTQ members of the Orthodox and more ritualistically observant part of the Jewish spectrum and tried to explain how often the issues for this part of our Jewish community are different and specific to the need to reconcile the dictates of Halacha and the texts that inform how we live with what we know about how people function and what our medical experts have taught us about sexual and gender identity.
I must admit that I was caught a bit by surprise when another individual at the table immediately responded by speaking rather forcibly and ultimately in a quite loud voice (to the point of being embarrassing) about how I am a hypocrite for being part of my community and how this community and I are racist and extremist and bigoted…. And on went the reaction. While this clearly had an impact on me (I often feel like I am going into a type of internal shock in these situations), I practiced my own advice which is to stay calm and reasonable in such situations. I responded in a soft voice, trying to reason. Immediately it was clear I could not offer any response so I simply said “I guess we will have to agree to disagree.” At this point, the individual shouted “No you are wrong! There is no agreement for anything here!” I shrugged, for what else could I do. The kind person sitting next to me (whom I really did not know) wrote me a quick note, asking if I was okay! Other looks of concern could be seen around the table, which were greatly appreciated.
One other member of the group picked up on the statement claiming agreement and the bashing of all things Orthodox (with no attempts to clarify or specify) was off and running. The facilitator of the discussion basically suggested moving on and so we did.
A few of my students were at this meeting (I brought them) and I could see they were shaken. I explained to them that I heard a wonderful statement recently that goes like this: We must have even more compassion for those who do not have compassion. How applicable this is to so many different sides of the table, so to speak.
As I was processing this experience and the stinging feeling that it produces, I remember about twelve years ago when I was attending one of the first showings of “Trembling Before G-d,” the seminal and groundbreaking film about Homosexuality in the Orthodox Jewish community and world. It was at Beit Ahavah, the area’s GLBTQ synagogue. In the course of the discussion, a woman stood up in the back of the room and began to really attack all people and all things Orthodox. She took the position that she did not understand how anyone could be part of such a horrible group, and that GLBTQ Jews should just be that and disassociate themselves from anything Orthodox. She went on for a few moments at which point the President of the Congregation looked at me helplessly and somewhat embarrassed (I had come with my daughter and a good friend as I had known Steve Greenberg who was associated with the film) and I indicated that I would respond. I basically stood up and explained that there are always those who will not accept others, however to make blanket statements that “All X (in this case, Orthodox people) are Y (horrible and unaccepting)” does not really serve any purpose. I explained that she was using the same type of blanket statements to malign us that others would use against her identified social group of acceptance, and for which they need to be called to task. “We are here with you in solidarity, acceptance and understanding. Are you really stating that you want us to leave the room?” I sat down and mostly all of those present applauded.
So, here I sit. I still encourage my students, my children, my friends, anyone I can to be part of as many different groupings as they can. We MUST be inclusive. We are taught in the details and big ideas of Halacha to be inclusive. Thirty six times in our Torah we are taught to accept all those amongst us and to NOT OPPRESS OR HARM anyone as a stranger in the way that we were treated in our years in Egypt. I will not stop going out on the limb and joining groups in which I may be one of the few, if not the only one representing this bridging together of Jewish observance and social/human acceptance and appreciation. I still believe it is my moral imperative to do so. It is in this conviction I take comfort when I am excluded because of my admittedly inclusive agenda.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Finding the Balance between Helping Others and Asking that All Take Responsibility for Ourselves
Consider the following information that appears in an article entitled “The New Poverty” that recently appeared in The Jerusalem Report (January 16, 2012 issue):
… 53 percent of Arab families live under the poverty line…. In the Arab sector … the men work but the women often do not.
These comments are offered in an article explaining poverty in Israel today and how there are specific challenges to all of Israel. These comments refer to one population within the Israeli structure and elsewhere in the article it is commented that this
…skews the figures because if we could only count the rest of the population, our poverty level would put us [in a more normative economic situation when looking at the rest of the world]
So, let’s pause for a moment. Think honestly about how you feel regarding this information. Do you feel comfortable having a discussion about how we can help these families and what we can do to change the circumstances of this population? Does that discussion relate to your politics, to the notion that we should extend a hand to those less fortunate, or a combination of these elements and other values you hold dear?
Please note that I will not propose any answers here, I am merely asking questions. Those questions are about who has both the responsibility and ability to support themselves and what those of us who are working and in a position to help others should be asked and required to do for those who choose not to accept such responsibility, should this be and when this is the case.
After you have thought about this a bit…. And ONLY THEN, continue….
In this same article the following information appears, also as part of what “skews the figures” of poverty in Israel:
Among the Haredi population, 55 percent of families live under the poverty line…In the Haredi sector, women tend to work while the men do not…
So, let’s pause once again. How do you honestly feel about this information? Do you want to help and change the circumstances of this population? What are the factors that contribute to your answer? Is your approach here the same as or different from that in the situation above? What accounts for these similarities or differences?
Consider that there is almost identical information about these two populations, which are described in the article as follows:
[The] single poverty figure of 20 percent [for Israel in general] does not reflect the true complexity of the issue of combating poverty in Israel… The population can be divided into [three separate economic entities of] the ultra-Orthodox Haredi sector, the Arab sector, and the ‘rest,’ mostly secular Jews.
Further, about the “’rest,’ mostly secular Jews,” it is written:
In general, in families in which two members of the family work, the poverty rate is only 3 percent…
So, in the end, how sympathetic are we to “Israel’s poverty problem?” How are we supposed to respond to each of the two groups indicated as well as to the problem in general?
In my own family, my husband and I have both always worked. We have raised our children to work and take responsibility for them selves in our world. Our 28 year old daughter and her husband both work, and are also raising the most adorable and beautiful 16 month old twin girls. We have provided for our children based upon our being a two professional family. Years ago, when we were living in another community that was heavily populated by a very strong Orthodox (and economically challenged) presence, we were TOLD, yes TOLD that we were responsible for educating the other community children whose parents could not provide for them (including many who followed the model indicated here amongst the Haredi population in Israel). I must say I had a hard time with that notion.
No one loves to learn and grow more than I do. That being said, it has been a joy to take responsibility for our children, their education and the quality of life for all members of our wonderful family. Why should I feel responsible for those who DO NOT TRY to do the same? I am certainly not suggesting that this is always the case and clearly there are cases where we should (and we do) care and share with our resources with which G-d has blessed us. That being said, at what point do people get to take a “pass” on meeting their economic responsibility for their own families? Further, what circumstances should inspire me to “care and share” graciously with others? When is it appropriate to help others and when is it more appropriate to facilitate a process by which others take responsibility for themselves? I often refer to the Talmudic dictum of “When you give someone a fish they have dinner for the evening; when you teach someone to fish, they have dinner for life.” Maimonides teaches that the highest form of Tzedakah is helping someone find work.
To be sure, there are cultures where not all members of the community work. That being said, we are all aware of alterations and decisions we have ourselves made to accommodate changing economics and various needs in our daily lives. If others are able to do so and choose not to do so, is this the direction in which I should direct my Tzedakah dollars? I am just not all that sure.
… 53 percent of Arab families live under the poverty line…. In the Arab sector … the men work but the women often do not.
These comments are offered in an article explaining poverty in Israel today and how there are specific challenges to all of Israel. These comments refer to one population within the Israeli structure and elsewhere in the article it is commented that this
…skews the figures because if we could only count the rest of the population, our poverty level would put us [in a more normative economic situation when looking at the rest of the world]
So, let’s pause for a moment. Think honestly about how you feel regarding this information. Do you feel comfortable having a discussion about how we can help these families and what we can do to change the circumstances of this population? Does that discussion relate to your politics, to the notion that we should extend a hand to those less fortunate, or a combination of these elements and other values you hold dear?
Please note that I will not propose any answers here, I am merely asking questions. Those questions are about who has both the responsibility and ability to support themselves and what those of us who are working and in a position to help others should be asked and required to do for those who choose not to accept such responsibility, should this be and when this is the case.
After you have thought about this a bit…. And ONLY THEN, continue….
In this same article the following information appears, also as part of what “skews the figures” of poverty in Israel:
Among the Haredi population, 55 percent of families live under the poverty line…In the Haredi sector, women tend to work while the men do not…
So, let’s pause once again. How do you honestly feel about this information? Do you want to help and change the circumstances of this population? What are the factors that contribute to your answer? Is your approach here the same as or different from that in the situation above? What accounts for these similarities or differences?
Consider that there is almost identical information about these two populations, which are described in the article as follows:
[The] single poverty figure of 20 percent [for Israel in general] does not reflect the true complexity of the issue of combating poverty in Israel… The population can be divided into [three separate economic entities of] the ultra-Orthodox Haredi sector, the Arab sector, and the ‘rest,’ mostly secular Jews.
Further, about the “’rest,’ mostly secular Jews,” it is written:
In general, in families in which two members of the family work, the poverty rate is only 3 percent…
So, in the end, how sympathetic are we to “Israel’s poverty problem?” How are we supposed to respond to each of the two groups indicated as well as to the problem in general?
In my own family, my husband and I have both always worked. We have raised our children to work and take responsibility for them selves in our world. Our 28 year old daughter and her husband both work, and are also raising the most adorable and beautiful 16 month old twin girls. We have provided for our children based upon our being a two professional family. Years ago, when we were living in another community that was heavily populated by a very strong Orthodox (and economically challenged) presence, we were TOLD, yes TOLD that we were responsible for educating the other community children whose parents could not provide for them (including many who followed the model indicated here amongst the Haredi population in Israel). I must say I had a hard time with that notion.
No one loves to learn and grow more than I do. That being said, it has been a joy to take responsibility for our children, their education and the quality of life for all members of our wonderful family. Why should I feel responsible for those who DO NOT TRY to do the same? I am certainly not suggesting that this is always the case and clearly there are cases where we should (and we do) care and share with our resources with which G-d has blessed us. That being said, at what point do people get to take a “pass” on meeting their economic responsibility for their own families? Further, what circumstances should inspire me to “care and share” graciously with others? When is it appropriate to help others and when is it more appropriate to facilitate a process by which others take responsibility for themselves? I often refer to the Talmudic dictum of “When you give someone a fish they have dinner for the evening; when you teach someone to fish, they have dinner for life.” Maimonides teaches that the highest form of Tzedakah is helping someone find work.
To be sure, there are cultures where not all members of the community work. That being said, we are all aware of alterations and decisions we have ourselves made to accommodate changing economics and various needs in our daily lives. If others are able to do so and choose not to do so, is this the direction in which I should direct my Tzedakah dollars? I am just not all that sure.
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