Showing posts with label Jewish. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Jewish. Show all posts

Saturday, November 03, 2018

Mourning the Loss of a Minyan


When people would ask my teacher, Rabbi Alan Lew, “how do you become a part of a spiritual community?” He would say, “you just show up, keep showing up -- be present.”

I have no personal connection to those who died last Shabbat in Pittsburgh and yet, I know those people – each and every one of them….I am one of them. Like them, for the past 18 years I have been at services both weekly and daily with my cadre of “regulars” just like those at Etz Chayim/Or L’Simcha/Dor Chadash -- each one of us, from Pittsburgh to San Francisco, showing up, and being present with our roles………

Like David and Cecil Rosenthal, greeting people with contagious joy or Irving Younger, who, when he handed out the prayerbooks, made sure to point out the current page so no one would feel uncomfortable.

Leading the davening, the prayers for their community, like Daniel Stein, Jerry Rabinowitz or Mel Wax, who was always ready to step in if someone didn’t show up - “He knew how to do everything at the synagogue.” a friend said.

Making sure the food and coffee are ready and available—like Rose Mallinger and Bernice Simon, two old timers who were well aware that one cannot live on prayer alone, while Bernice’s husband, Sylvan, would take part in the L’Chayim club each Shabbat with a shot of Jim Beam.

Those people are my people—who showed up and let their consistent presence in their Jewish practice create a spiritual and sacred space so that someone like Richard Gottfried, a dentist who volunteered at a free dental clinic, could have a place to deepen his connection to his faith.

Last Shabbat, we lost a minyan – a minyan like my minyan, like so many minyanim across the world – people who are the lifeblood of their community. Minyan - literally a number, a count, a quorum – is at the core of traditional Jewish synagogue life. It’s that group of 10 or more Jews who gather daily and weekly to pray and to make sure all who come to pray are supported, especially those in mourning, those who come—some every day for 11 months— to say Kaddish, the prayer we say to honor the dead. Jewish ritual law for saying Kaddish demands that we must be in community so we can support and comfort the living.

Joyce Fienberg, a retired University of Pittsburgh researcher, became a regular “minyanaire” after the death of her husband. Perhaps, like some in my minyan, she wanted to support others as she was supported in her time of grief. Or maybe she just found that space and place a good way to start her day. Rabbi Jeffrey Myers, the rabbi at Etz Chayim, said Ms. Fienberg not only participated, she gave its oldest member, at 99, a ride each day. "She frequently opened the building, prepared food and just volunteered to help," Rabbi Myers said. "No one asked her to do it. She just did it. She was a pure soul."

No, I do not personally know any in that minyan of 11 souls I’ve mentioned, but I am one of them – linked to them not just as Jews, but as people who understand the value and connection to spirit and community that comes with showing up and being present with that spirit and with that community. And now, as we say Kaddish, grieving for those souls who died for no other reason than they were Jewish, in that tradition they held so dear, let’s hold the stories and the light of those souls within us, and let that light reflect out, reminding us to keep showing up and be present for ourselves and for each other in this tradition that has held us for thousands of years.

זכר צדיקים לברכה
Zacher Tzadikim L’vracha
May the memory these righteous ones be a blessing for us all




Tuesday, April 11, 2017

We’ve recounted; now the count begins

With the seder, the order of these nights’ traditions, we use the map of Haggadah, of the Telling, to recount the story of our people’s release from oppression; we celebrate liberation. Tonight, the journey continues as we begin to count the 49 days of the omer. We move through time and spiritual space. We count days and we count weeks; we use seven seferot — chesed-loving kindness; gevurah-strength; tiferet-compassion; netzach-perseverance; hod-humility; yesod-foundation; malchut-leadership — as guideposts to give an intention for each day.

For those who want a grounding in the practice, a good explanation for the nuts and bolts of the biblical/rabbinic tradition can be found here, at Judaism 101. An overview of the 7 kabbalistic intentions — one a representation for each day, one for each week — is on the Aish site here.

We each take our own journey, and we walk the path with others. We contemplate our internal life, and we are mindful of what we do out in the world. Moving from liberation to revelation takes work — and it is the work of a lifetime.

Tuesday, May 17, 2016

New Blessing Words--Lost or Found in Translation

היום ארבעה ועשרים יום שהם שלשה שבועות ושלשה ימים בעמר
Today is twenty-four days--that is three weeks and  three days--of the omer
תפארת שבנצח
A day of compassion in a week of perseverance


In the United Synagogue of Conservative Judaism's prayerbook, Sim Shalom, the formula for blessing,
. . . ברוִך אתה יי אלהינו מלך העולם אשר קדשנו במצותיו וצונו
Baruch atah Adonai elohainu melekh ha-olam asher kidshanu b'mitzvotav v'tzivanu . . . 

is translated as "Praised are You Adonai our God, who rules the universe, instilling in us the holiness of mitzvot by commanding us . . .

Whatever issues I have with the translations in this siddur, this prayerbook, this isn't one of them. It's certainly an improvement over the previous siddur, which read:

Praised are You, O Lord our God, King of the Universe, who sanctified us with Your commandments and commanded us . . .

They are both literal translations, with the newer one working to deal with the issue of gender and hierarchy that are inherent in the Jewish prayer language that was written in a gendered language in a patriarchal society. I appreciate Adonai instead of Lord; who rules instead of King, instilling holiness instead of sanctifying. It definitely allows for a more inclusive prayer space.

This year, USCJ released a new siddur, Siddur Lev Shalem, It's based on the new Machzor, High Holiday prayerbook they released some years ago, Machzor Lev Shalem.

I haven't davened, prayed, with the new prayerbook yet, but in scanning through it, the translations I've seen are an improvement. Of course, there will always be those who are dissatisfied. And I have a feeling the new translation for blessings will be a target for that dissatisfaction--although I not from me. The new translation reads:

Barukh atath Adonai, our God, sovereign of time and space, who had provided us with a path to holiness through the observance of mitzvot and instructed us to . . .

I'm glad the "commandment" word(s) are gone--it has such an overbearing feel. I think the most controversial wording will be "time and space" instead of "universe." I once used that in a Haggadah, the booklet of the Passover seder, that I wrote, and one of the participants loudly complained, "That's not what it says!" I replied, "it does in my translation :)" I can only imagine what he and others, will think about this.

What's your take?

Sunday, May 08, 2016

The prophesy of dry bones lives

היום חמשה עשר יום שהם שני שבועות ויום אחד בעמר
Today is fifteen days--that is two weeks and one day--of the omer
חסד שתפארת
A day of loving kindness in a week of compassion

A teaching from 2007 that touched me--one I continue to teach today. There are those that think I'm crazy, but I see this prophesy coming alive.

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Yesterday was the Shabbat between Yom HaShoah - a day of remembrance for all those lost in the Holocaust - and Yom HaAtzmaut - a day commemorating the 1948 formation of the State of Israel. Because of this, Rabbi Moshe Levin of Ner Tamid chose to change the haftarah that is traditionally read for the Torah parsha Tazria-Metzorah. Instead, the haftarah that we read on the Shabbat HolHamoed Pesach - the Shabbat in the midst of Passover - Ezekiel 36:37 - 37:14, known as the "Dry Bones" story. He felt that reading was much more appropriate to the Shabbat linking Yom HaShoah to Yom HaAtzmaut. Reading that story, I totally agree with him, and think it's a change that should be made at Beth Sholom when we are back together next year in our new synagogue building.

The amazing thing about reading that haftarah this past Shabbat was seeing the prophesy of Ezekiel fulfilled with the survival of Judaism after the holocaust and the birth of the Jewish homeland. The imagery couldn't be more appropriate and the words more direct. Ezekiel tells of his vision in which God takes him to a valley of dry bones. God says to those bones: "I will lay sinews upon you, and cover you with flesh, and form skin over you. And I will put breath into you, and you shall live again" (37:6). And so it comes to pass:
"The breath entered them, and they came to life and stood up on their feet, a vast multitude. And God said to me, "O mortal, these bones are the whole House of Israel. They say, 'Our bones are dried up, our hope is gone; we are doomed.' Prophesy, therefore, and say to them: Thus said Adonai, your God: I am going to open your graves and lift you out of the graves, O My people, and bring you to the land of Israel. You shall know, O My people, that I am Adonai, when I have opened your graves and lifted you out of your graves. I will put My breath into you and you shall live again, and I will set you upon your own soil. Then you shall know that I, Adonai, have spoken and have acted" (37:10-14)
Read it again and let it all sink in. Hope is gone, dried up like those bones. But just as those lifted from the graves, hope rises from the ashes of the Holocaust as our people are brought to a land that can be called ours - the State of Israel. All our displaced people can now find their way home.

A prophesy written before the common era fulfilled in the 20th century. While I find this somewhat chilling, it also helps me confirm my faith in my Jewish tradition.

Saturday, May 07, 2016

The leadership of my students gives me strength

היום ארבעה עשר יום שהם שני שבועות בעמר
Today is fourteen days--that is two weeks--of the omer
מלכות שבגבורה
A day of leadership in a week of strength

As we end this second week of the omer, I gain strength from the leadership potential of the next generation.


This afternoon I went to see Dance Brigade's Grrrl Brigade perform. "What is that?" you ask.  On their web page, you'll see:

"The GRRRL Brigade is an intensive dance/leadership development program designed to provide high quality dance training, performance opportunities, and a sense of self-empowerment for San Francisco's girls ages 9 to 18. Our goal is to give the girls, their parents, and our audience the inspiration, magic, and hope only evocative dance theater can spark in creating a just and peaceful world."

What I can say is "Wow......" Their expression of the environmental and social impact that climate change is and and will continue to have on our world, on THEIR world, through dance and drum and spoken word, was powerful. These girls have a mindfulness that they are not alone in this world, that we need to work together to create. They use fully use body & soul as their voice to bring this mindfulness to us. As long as their vision stays strong, there is hope.

And then I got an email from a student who is applying for a Jewish Teen Foundation. This touched me on two levels. First, that he feels the pull to participate in the program--connecting the values of the Jewish people with a need to make a difference; fulfilling the precept of tikun olam, repair of the world. At his bar mitzvah, he taught about the need to protect the land. Perhaps that had an influence on his decision to pursue this fellowship.

And then there is the personal level that touched me. He wrote:  ". . . they asked for someone as a reference that could speak about my character. One of the examples they gave was a religious leader, so I put your name down and contact information down." What can I say :)  For all my whining about not being a rabbi, not able to get respect on that level---my students know, to them, I am their rabbi.

A perfect message to end to this day of leadership and strength.



Friday, May 06, 2016

Finding the foundation of strength

היום שלשה עשר יום שהם שבוע אחד וששה ימים בעמר
Today is thirteen days--that is one week and six days--of the omer
יסוד שבגבורה
A day of foundation in a week of strength

In this writing from the omer count of 2007, I wrote of how I began this practice that has become so foundational for me, and how the count and the sephirot and my life converged to give me an important lesson in strength.
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I started my practice of counting the omer in 2000. I attended a series of three workshops at P'nai Or run by the Jewish Renewal Life Center in Philadelphia. The second of the workshops took place before Pesach. The weekend was centered around studying different aspects of Jewish ritual with Rabbi Marcia Prager, Rabbi Arthur Waskow, and Rabbi Phyllis Berman. It was there that I learned to count using the sephirot, giving me the spiritual hit that led me to work with this ancient practice in my modern life. Like the study of Torah, it is one of those practices that will sustain me for the rest of my life.

The counting of 2002--5762--had special significance for me. That was the year of my treatment for breast cancer. My chemotherapy started on the first of Nissan. My last infusion was on the 49th day of the omer. The counting that year had an added importance. It allowed me to avoid the tendancy to count those difficult days as a prisoner tracking her time of internment. Instead, I could use the seven attributes to support me through my illness.

It was Gevurah-the sephirot of strength-that resonated most deeply with me that year. So often the symbol of strength is a closed fist. But that year I learned how much strength there is in an outstretched, open palm. It is very difficult for many otherwise self-sufficient cancer patients to rely on others for help. But there are so many people around you at that time who want to help. The ability to ask for and accept the help you need represents a strength as great, if not greater, than any boxer's punch. That is a lesson of Gevurah that stays with me to this day.

Wednesday, May 04, 2016

Practicing Prayer, Voicing Fears

היום  אחד עשר יום שהם שבוע אחד וארבעה ימים בעמר
Today is eleven days--that is one week and four days--of the omer
נצח שבגבורה
A day of perseverance in a week of strength

The practice of prayer is often hard to connect with, especially when the words are in a language you can neither read nor understand. That is the challenge of Jewish prayer, which has been an integral part of my spiritual practice for more than 15 years. It is a process that involves work, continual work, navigating through the different layers at different moments. That is what makes it a lifetime practice, for it's a ever changing relationship.

Part of the liturgy of the Jewish morning prayer service is the psalm of the day--one more way we, as Jews, measure time. Each psalm can give an intention for each day as we move through the week. What that intention is, like many of our rituals, open to interpretation.

The psalms for Tuesday and Wednesday have spoken to me these past years, giving a voice to my fears for the world:
"How long will you judge unjustly, giving face to the wicked!"Psalm 82:2  
"How long, Adonai, will the wicked - the wicked exhalt!"Psalm 94:3
This year, those fears are intensified for this country, and remaining silent is not an option--we must all raise our voices with these words, or those of our own, to truly live the words that I grew up hearing, that I saw on the wall at Yad Vashem:




Sunday, May 01, 2016

Turning point

היום שמנה ימים שהם שבוע אחד ויום אחד בעמר
Today is eight days--that is one week and one day--of the omer
חסד שבגבורה
A day of loving kindness in a week of strength




Reading previous omer writings, I get to connect to thoughts from another time in my life with a perspective of today. Below is a post from May 2011, just before I discovered the existence of The Kitchen. It captures a moment of realization on my path that lead me to where I am today.
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For the past few years, I've been pondering the statement I hear often from friends, "I don't believe in organized religion." It's often said as part of a discussion as to why I have taken on a Jewish spiritual practice. Sometimes I respond in a joking manner, "Have you read nothing about the different factions within Judaism? There's nothing very organized about the religion :)"

But as I get deeper into my practice in this time and space, I understand that statement more and more, as I affiliate with the "official" Jewish organizations less and less. While I belong to a synagogue that is fiercely egalitarian, where women and men have equal footing in ritual practice, the movement with which it is affiliated, the Conservative Movement, won't take an unequivocal stand on that issue. At the synagogue that I grew up in, located on Long Island in New York, women still can't chant Torah, and if I were to attend their weekday minyan, I would not count as one of the ten needed to say kaddish. Yet they are also affiliated with the Conservative Movement, so my synagogue dues help support them.

The Groucho Marx line keeps going through my head, "I don't want to belong to a club that would have me as a member." They want me as a member, but I don't fully belong. While some members would embrace me and my practice, others would block me from fulfilling roles important to that practice. And the big organization that is supposed to support me still won't make a full commitment to egalitarian ritual practice in the name of not upsetting some of their members. I guess I don't matter too much to them, since upsetting me and others like me is okay.

Not a very uplifting message for the day, but one that I must continue to bring up and ponder--not just for myself, but for future generations of Jewish women.

Friday, April 29, 2016

Words of Wisdom

היום ששה ימים בעמר
Today is six days of the omer
יסוד שבחסד
A day of foundation in a week of loving kindness

This morning, on what is said to be the anniversary of the event, those of us gathered to mark the 7th day of Pesach stood and heard the story of the splitting of the sea. We symbolically walked through that tunnel of water, and sang a song of joy.


My joy was increased by seeing Mira Shelub, a wonderful woman in her 90's, looking as she has for the 15 years I've know her--elegantly dressed with a beautiful smile, warmth radiating from her soul. You can't help but be drawn in when you're in her sphere. She's also an incredibly bright, wise, and strong women, whose family was able to escape to the Polish forest when the Nazi's came to exterminate the Jews in her town. Mira joined the Jewish partisans, waging gorilla war on the Nazi's while creating a community structure to help keep so many alive. She has made it a life mission to share the stories of those times, reminding us all of the importance of resistance.

On this day of foundation in loving-kindness, I share these words of her that certainly fulfill that intention.

Wednesday, April 27, 2016

Minyan Moments

היום ארבעה ימים בעמר
Today is four days of the omer
נצח שבחסד
A day of perseverance in a week of loving kindness

At this morning's minyan, the gathering for prayers, we had one of those "it takes a village" moments. There was no clergy; we made the necessary 10 and a couple more, with a group of core regulars. Because it is one of the intermediate days of Pesach, there are more rituals than a normal Wednesday morning. We sang Hallel, read Torah from two different scrolls, and had a musaf, additional liturgy that is added on these days. There were lots of roles to be filled, and everyone stepped up to make everything work. And as I was not as prepared to chant Torah as I could have been, it was great to know I did not have to read alone, being gently corrected when I mangled the words or started to run through the end of a verse.

At these times, I am reminded that our rituals are meant to be communal, not hierarchical. Our rabbis are our teachers, but each of us has the ability to lead. This is one of the strengths of Judaism, and one of the reasons why we have survived for so many centuries.


And so, on this day of perseverance in loving kindness, I bring you another minyan moment from 2010 when we were able to support those in our community.
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At Beth Sholom, we ask anyone who comes to minyan to commemorate a yarhzeit--an anniversary of the passing of a loved one--if they would like to say a few words about the person they are remembering. It adds an extra level to the experience when the El Malai prayer is chanted--for the survivor sharing the memory and for those of us standing in support. At that moment, we all hold that person in our heart.

This morning, my friend Katherine shared the connection she felt between working with her son on the chicken coops they're building and the time her dad spent working with her on the Future Farmer of America projects of her youth. It was one way she could pass the love her father had for her on to her children. לדור ודור – L'dor v'dor - from generation to generation.

Another woman, Penny, was there to commemorate the yarhzeit of her husband. She told us they met in USY--the national youth organization of the Conservative Movement. They had 17 years together, were married for 11 years, and this was the 25th anniversary of his death. She shared this knowing we would understand the connections to her youth, to her Judaism. We could share the pain of her loss, no matter how long ago.

In these moments, as I place my hand on each shoulder and chant those ancient words, I feel humbled in the presence of enduring love and am honored to share in the stream of their lives.

Tuesday, April 26, 2016

Ashkenormative

היום שלשה ימים בעמר
Today is three days of the omer
תפארת שבחסד
A day of compassion in a week of loving kindness

Road trips to LA, which I take every 3 months or so, have become opportunities for podcast marathons. WTF with Marc Maron is a favorite, Fresh Air is usually in the mix, and FiveThirtyEight Elections is the seasonal choice. I've also become a fan of Tablet Magazine's Unorthodox.

During an interview with Ladino singer/songwriter Sarah Aroeste, Deputy Editor Stephanie Butnick admitted to being, to her dismay, "Ashkenormative." What a great word, one that should be entered in Jewish-American dialogue.

In the US, the Ashkenazic Jewish culture, passed on from Eastern Europe, is what is seen as Jewish. Fiddler on the Roof has somehow become the source of all Jewish tradition, coming from Jews and non-Jews alike. It's become what defines the Jewish status quo. Any other Jewish cultural, ritual, and liturgical traditions are considered outside the norm. Everything is viewed through the Ashkenazic lens.



The recent ruling--and reaction to it--by the Rabbinical Assembly of the Conservative Movement in America to "allow" legumes, such as beans, and rice and other kitniyot for Ashkenazic Jews really proved the overwhelming Ashkenormative view of Judaism. It made big news in the Jewish world, and even without. I especially love this NPR story, written not by a Sephardi spouse of an Ashkenazi--some would define this as intermarriage :) -- but by a Latina who married into a Jewish family and could now have rice and beans during Pesach.

This brought to my mind that as Jews in this country, we can share the heritage of our ancestors, but we shouldn't be bound or, more accurately, set apart by those demarkations set so many centuries ago. In food, in music, in culture, we are American Jews. We can make our shared, diverse backgrounds the norm.

While not at the top of the issues facing American Jews right now, I think it's time to take off the Ashkenazic filter through which we see American Judaism. At the end of that podcast episode, Stephanie Butnick pledged to try to stop being so Ashkenormative. I join her in that, and I invite you to do the same. The more we open our world, the stronger we'll be going forward.

Monday, April 25, 2016

Practice paves the way

היום שני ימים בעמר
Today is two days of the omer
גבורה שבחסד
A day of strength in a week of loving kindness

As part of this year's process, I've made a conscious decision to recycle some old omer posts.

The following thoughts are from 5769/2009 - a couple of years before I found the Kitchen. The years following continued to be tough on my practice--this was only the top of the downhill slide. But I didn't run away, I modified but held on to my practice, and I was able to find someplace to run towards. Now, I get to work on integrating what was to what is into what will be.
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Of the many teachings that I received from my teacher, Rabbi Alan Lew, z"l, I think those that came from seeing how he lived his life touch the deepest. Primary of those teachings is the importance of integrating spiritual practice into your life, not looking at it as something apart from your life. A large part of that integration involves commitment to the practice. It is the commitment that brings the rewards--both when the practice is "working" and when it's not.

As one who loves ritual and needs that time and space to process, I have experienced the joy that spiritual practice can bring. But it's now, when understanding what I'm doing becomes elusive, that the commitment is at it's most potent. I am forced to look at what I'm doing from different angles, different views, to find my way. It is the ultimate in processing, for while I want to run away--I cannot, I will not. For ultimately it is within the processing that I will find the guideposts I need.

Sunday, April 24, 2016

Picking up the count . . .

Looks like the writing fell apart early last year.....

That's the beauty of practice, you just take the opportunity to start again.
You get to have an experienced beginner's mind.

Sunday, April 05, 2015

Sharing ancient traditions

היום שני ימים בעמר
Today is two days of the omer
גבורה שבחסד
A day of strength in a week of loving kindness

One of the things I love about Jewish rituals is the many layers of the traditions brought by different interpretations through the centuries. Rabbi Arthur Green teaches that a bit of oil is left of the Torah from the fingertips of the generations as it passes through their hands. I see this also in our celebrations, as different times and places leave their mark on our holiday customs. The deeper the levels, the further back they go, the more intrigued I become. The most ancient ties, linking us back to our roots before Abraham, are the ones that resonate deeply.

Sukkot is the chag-the holiday-that seems to connect most directly to those ancient, pagan times. We shake the lulav, with its myrtle, willow, and palm branches, and the etrog, that special citron, in six directions--north, south, east, west, up down. We march in a circle asking that higher power to please, save us. However the early rabbis justify these rituals, it seems much like magic incantations that seem to hark back to an era that would predate the lech l'cha--the going out of Abraham.

But it is in Chanukah and, I now realize, Pesach, that our ancient rituals feel in sync with people all over the globe. As all my students can tell you, the lighting of the candles on Chanukah has little if anything to do with the story that is told. It is our tribe's ritual of bringing light into the season of darkness. It's a ritual manifested in Christianity with the lights of the Christmas tree and the Hindus with the fireworks of Diwali.

Just as the ancient peoples needed to bring in light to ward off the darkness, they also needed to mark and give thanks for the rebirth of plants and animals that comes with the spring season, bringing life and sustenance. Eggs as a symbol of new life, rebirth, and fertility permeate both Passover and Easter. In Torah time, the first of Nissan, the month of Passover and Spring is the beginning of the year. In the same spirit, the Persians/Iranian/Afghani celebration of No-rooz/Nowruz on the spring equinox to mark the beginning of their year.

I find strength in the rituals of my people and love being able to use them as an entry into the endless stream of time both forward and back. Seeing the connection with other cultures reminds me that global connections have an existence beyond this digital age, with roots in the ancient world.

Saturday, April 04, 2015

Re-Counting the Omer

היום יום אחד בעמר
Today is the first day of the omer
חסד שבחסד
A day of loving kindness in a week of loving kindness

We drank the wine, ate the matzah, maror, charoset, and all the other tasty dishes that come with the Passover seder. We asked the questions, re-enacted the story of liberation from Egypt, Mitzrayim, our narrow place, and find ourselves now on the road to revelation. To guide us on our journey, tonight we start the counting of the omer--49 steps of mindfulness.

You can find the how, when, what, and origin of this ritual in this article by Rabbi Jill Jacobs and in this entry in the Judaism 101 online encyclopedia. For a brief explanation of the Kabbalistic counting method, you can read this article from Rabbi Simon Jacobson.  In the proverbial nutshell, we count 49 days from the second day of Passover to the day before Shavuot, based on the teaching from the Torah--Leviticus 23:15-16. The Kabbalists added a layer of using 7 Sephirot, attributes that can serve as a connection to the Transcendent spirit, giving us a way to internalize the counting. Each day is assigned an attribute; each week is assigned an attribute. So the counting is not just a number, but a unique couplet of awareness.




I will once again take up my practice of blogging the omer, writing a post each day. As I remarked last year, I add to the count with an accounting of my life. This year I realize another obvious connection that I have manage to miss in this context until now. In Hebrew, the word for counting - ספ'רה - and the word for recount, tell a story - לספר – have the same root. And so, it all comes together.



For those of you who participate in the counting, I'm glad once again to count along with you. For those who have never counted, I invite you to come along for the ride. You are all welcome to download the simple chart you see to the left to help you keep track. I will also be tweeting out the count each evening, California time, so feel free to follow me, @mdivah.


On this day of double loving-kindness, remember that the counting, like life, is a process. There are often bumps in the road, and sometimes our journey takes us in a different direction. But the beauty of our traditions, these rituals we have followed for so many centuries, through so many generations, is that they remain for us to turn to, if not this year, the next.

Monday, May 12, 2014

Looking at Kaddish

היום שבעה ועשרים יום שהם שלשה שבועות וששה ימים בעמר
Today is twenty-seven days, which is three weeks and six days of the omer
יסוד שבנצח
A day of foundation in a week of perseverance

On this day of foundation I take a liturgy class--one of many that I have taken with Rabbi Stuart Kelman. This one was on the various Kaddishes that are said in our prayer services, with much time spent on the Mourners' Kaddish, the prayer said on behalf of a loved one who has died. As often is the case with prayers, the customs go back so far that often their origins are obscured, But because they have been in existence for so many centuries, they are looked at as "law."

The codification of our observances is what unites us as Jews, gives us a tribal connection in this global society. But we need to remember that they are not set in stone. We need to learn what part they play in our lives, how they work, and even look at why they work...or don't. While the connection of tradition is important, keeps us in that stream that has run through the ages, we also need to revisit the customs, and renew their meanings so they can continue to to speak to us today.




Wednesday, April 30, 2014

Taking memories forward

היום אחד חמשה עשר יום שהם שני שבועות ויום אחד בעמר
Today is fifteen days, which is two weeks and one day of the omer
חסד שבתפארת
A day of loving kindness in a week of compassion

Truly a day of loving kindness and compassion, as I officiate at an unveiling--the Jewish ritual marking the placement of a headstone at the grave of a loved one. It is not something I've done before, and I am honored to have been asked to lead this ritual so close to the hearts of the family who lost their husband and father. We will remember him, with tears and as well as some laughter. It is hard to see this reminder of his death, literally set in stone. But there is also a sense of moving on, letting go--not having the memories fade, but being able to keep them close without the immediacy of the pain. In this way, this ritual serves not as an ending commemoration, but as one that marks the beginning of the new journey.

Zichrono L'vracha -- may his memory be a blessing

Thursday, April 24, 2014

One of these things just doesn't belong . . .

היום תשעה ימים  שהם שבוע אחד ושני ימים בעמר
Today is nine days, which is one week and two days of the omer
גבורה שבגבורה
A day of strength in a week of strength

My husband, Ken, is an engineer in the film/video production world. He works as an independent contractor for companies large and small. When first hired by many of the large companies he needs to fill out a form in order to become an approved vendor. They need to know that all the paperwork for his company is in order--license, insurance, taxes. Pretty standard stuff. But today, while filling out a form, he called me over to look--there was something that seemed very unusual.

This particular form had a section to declare whether or not the business in question was minority owned. Nothing odd there---yet. If the answer was yes, you were instructed to select one of ten categories. There were the ones you would expect--African-American, Hispanic American, Native American. Caucasian Female looked a bit odd, but I get this, taking out any confusion as to which one non-white Female would select. I'm not sure I would think of Handicapped or Service Disabled Veteran in this sort of selection, but okay. There are three Asian minority categories--Asian-Indian American, Asian-Pacific American,  and Subcontinent Asian American (the hyphens are theirs). I don't know what I would choose if I was of Chinese, Japanese, or Korean descent--they seem to be left out of this list. Nor do I know who would be considered in the Subcontinent Asian category, since they seemed to have people of Indian descent covered.

But none of those were the reason Ken called me over to look. No, the category that caught his eye was Hassidic Jewish. Hassidic Jewish???? Really????  How does that belong there? Yes, Judaism is an ethnic religion, but at this point, anyone can convert to Judaism of any sort--which includes becoming an Hassid. And why would an owner's religion have any bearing on a business's minority status. To my eye, there is something very wrong here.

This is so out of left field, it makes me uncomfortable. I understand that there may be governmental advantages in hiring a minority owned business. But this is a country that is supposed to be founded on the principle of separation of church and state. Including Hassidic Jewish in this lists seems counter to that principle. I'm not sure how that got there and why--and I may be a bit paranoid, but it doesn't feel like any reason would be a good one.

Wednesday, April 23, 2014

When lesson plans get personal

היום שמונה ימים  שהם שבוע אחד ויום אחד בעמר
Today is eight days, which is one week and one day of the omer
חסד שבגבורה
A day of loving kindness in a week of strength

I'm in the midst of an 8 session course I'm teaching to 7th & 8th graders on the Jewish experience in America. Most of the students are interested in the subject--a nice plus that's not always the case when teaching in a supplementary synagogue environment. And those that are there just to mark time have been, for the most part, engaged--another check mark in the plus column. I can think of two aspects that may have piqued their interest.

One is that they are learning something new--a part of American and Jewish history they have not been exposed to before. It was great to hear a collective "that's cool" when I showed them a prayer written in Hebrew to honor the ratification of the Constitution that included an acrostic of "Washington" in Hebrew. They had also never considered that there would be Jews who were slave owners, as we considered what seders would have been like for southern Jews, speaking of their ancestors' liberation from slavery while being served by their own African-American slaves.


I think, and I certainly hope, that this subject is also making them think about their own relationship to being a Jew in America. I set the stage in the first class as we talked about the whether they thought of themselves as Jewish-Americans or American-Jews, and what the difference between the two would be.

The lesson I will teach this evening was actually one catalyst to me developing this course. We will be looking at the time period of the great wave of immigration to America from 1880 - 1920, when approximately 23 million immigrants entered the country, mostly from European countries. Around 2 million of those immigrants were Jews, mostly from Eastern Europe. Many of those Jews crowded into New York City's Lower East Side, creating a new world for Jews in American where, for the first time, they are a majority, albeit in a small corner of the country. Since most of my students are California natives, the immigrant experience as it applies to Jews is new territory for them, and something I think it's important for them to know. It's not just about teaching them about their heritage, which is important, but my hope is that it will give them a closer lens from which to look at all the immigration issues facing us in America today.

In planning this lesson, I realized I could also make it personal for me. I will be sharing photos of my family--photos taken in both the old and new worlds. I will show them my grandmother's family. I will show them a photo of my great-grandfather in his klezmer band in Poland, and my grandfather when he played with Paul Whiteman's band in New York.  I'll show them the ship manifests from the Ellis Island website, with the records entry for my grandmother, my aunt, and my great-grandmother Malkah--for whom I'm named.

I'm hoping bringing in my family's story will help make this time period come alive for them. Maybe I can get another "that's cool" reaction. It is pretty cool for me to be able use these mementos from my family's past to teach those who are the future of our people. It not only brings to life the phrase, "L'dor v'dor" - from generation to generation, but it lets me honor the memories of those who were dear to me, truly making them a blessing.




Saturday, June 29, 2013

The 21st Century Daughters of Tzelophchad


Pinchas is a parasha that is close to my heart—it is my birth parsha. There are so many ways it speaks to me personally. But this year, this week in particular, this parasha speaks to us all.
During the school year, I teach Torah to 7th graders. I constantly impress upon them what I call “the magic” of the Torah—that these ancient teachings, these stories, these precepts, have managed to speak to each generation with relevancy for its time. And this week is one of the moments when the Torah’s teaching come to life.
In this parasha, there is mention, by name, of nine women—nine  women. So often in the Torah we to have look between the lines to find the stories of women in a document written in a time of strong patriarchy, yet here, out front, nine are named, giving them a true presence in our heritage.
We have Cozbi bat Tzur, daughter of a Midianite chieftain, killed by Pinchas. Now, granted, she is certainly not one to be emulated but still, she gets a name, unlike Potiphar’s wife in the Joseph story or even Pharaoh’s daughter, who plucked Moshe from the water.
During the counting and the listing of the genealogies, we hear "ושם בת אשר שרח – v’shaim bat Asher, Sarach” – The name of Asher’s daughter was Sarach. It is a name we have heard only once before, in Genesis (46:17). Sarach is listed there as one of the 70 souls who go to Egypt with Jacob, once Joseph’s true identity is revealed. She is the only granddaughter of Jacob listed. We never learn anything else about her—yet the mention of her name must note something of importance. One story is that she is the one who told Jacob of Joseph’s survival, and lived long enough to tell Moshe where to find Joseph’s grave in Egypt so that his remains could be returned to the land of Israel, as he requested on his deathbed.
When counting the clans of the Levites, we hear for the first time, the names of Moshe’s parents—not just his father, Amram, but also his mother, Yocheved. Yocheved is not just described as a wife or a mother, but as a Bat Levi—given that honor in her own right. Miriam, his sister, is also named.
And then there are the daughters of Tzelophchad, whom I have dubbed “Women with Chutzpah” It is the story of these women that comes to the forefront today, in this monumental week.
We first meet the five sisters, Machlah, Noa, Chauglah, Milcah, and Tirzah, in the list of genealogy (Num 26:33). There, we learn only that their father, Tzelophchad, son of Hepher, son of Gilead, son of Machir, son of Manasseh son of Joseph—had these five daughters; he had no sons. But unlike Asher’s daughter Sarach, we do learn more about them. After all the tribes are counted and named, including the tribe of the Levites, their story is told.
Our story begins (Num 27) with these five daughters of Tzelophchad, once again mentioned by name—Machlah, Noa, Chauglah, Milcah, and Tirzah, who come forward. They stand before Moshe, before Elazar HaCohen, before the Nese’im—the chieftains, and before the entire Ai-dah—the entire community. They stand at the entrance of the Tent of Meeting and state their case:
Our father died in the wilderness. He was not part of the rebellion of Korach. And he left no sons. למה—LAMA––WHY should his holding in the Land of Israel be lost because of this—give us a place among our tribe. Moshe brings their case to God.
And God says, the words of these women are right, you should give them their place in their tribe—transfer their father’s share of land to them. And so, God relays these new laws of succession for the Israelites. The first of these laws—if a man dies with no sons, his property will transfer to his daughter.
Before the daughters of Tzelophchad spoke up, Jewish law dictated that only sons were in line to inherit from their father—any sisters were excluded from the inheritance. The daughters of Tzelophchad stood up to this injustice. Some commentators note that in a time when so many of the Israelites were pining and whining to go back to Mitzriyim, to Egypt, these women were looking forward, wanting their portion of the Promised Land. Rashi notes that as the reason their genealogy, going back to Joseph, was mentioned once again at this time. Just as Joseph cherished the land, wanting his remains to rest there (Gen 50:22), these daughters of Tzelophchad were imperative in their request for their portion –“תנה לנו אחזה בתוך אחי אבינו – t’nah lanu achuzah betoch achai avinu" - Give us a possession as part of our family inheritance.”(Num 27:4)
 Other commentators are impressed with the manner with which the daughters of Tzelophchad
made their request. They did not rebel, like those who stood with Korach. Reish Lakish, a 3rd century Amorah, Talmudic rabbi, says that the women went through the channels Moshe set up for these types of disputes on the advice of his father-in-law Yitro—first they went to the chiefs of tens, who judged that since it was a case concerning inheritance, it needed to go to a higher authority. They then went to the chiefs of fifties, then hundreds, then thousands, then the chieftains. All gave the same reply—this needs a higher authority. When the daughters went to Elazar, he told them to go to Moshe.
So, the daughters of Tzelophchad—Machlah, Noa, Chauglah, Milcah, and Tirzah, stood in front of the whole community—including all the chieftains, Elazar HaCohen, and Moshe, in a place for all to see, and stated their case. And Moshe, seeing the deference shown both by and to these women, realized that this case needed to be taken to his “Supreme Court”, God. God ruled in favor of the daughters of Tzelophchad, and the law was changed. And while, as we will see next week, there was some modification of the law, the women were granted their inheritance in the land as stated in Joshua (17:3-6), “Ten portions fell to Manashe…because the women of Manashe received a heritage among his sons.
These righteous women saw the injustice they were subjected to, the denial of their inheritance, and knew the time had come to stand up and be counted. Imagine the courage and the chutzpah they had to have to question the patriarchal rulings of the time. A group of five women making a claim for all to see in a time of strong patriarchy. They stated their case with respect, and were treated with respect. They wished to honor their father and their heritage. They showed their desire to move forward into the land of Israel when others wished to go backwards. Their righteousness was rewarded with an implementation of a change from an unjust system of inheritance to one of justice. Aviva Zornberg, a pre-eminent Torah scholar of our time, teaches that this is the first instance of oral Torah – these women were responsible for setting Jewish law.

Fast forward thousands of years-------

Starting in 1989, a group of righteous women, soon dubbed the Women of the Wall, women who simply wish to respectfully and fully pray at the Kotel, the remaining Western Wall of the Temple, are harassed each time they go to pray. Harassed not just with words, but with chairs thrown at them. They, like the daughters of Tzelophchad, keep going through the system, saying LAMA—WHY can we not, rightfully, partake of our heritage. And while that struggle continues, they, like Machlah, Noa, Tirtzah, Milcah, and Chaglah, are bringing changes to the laws.
And then there’s Edie Windsor and Thea Spyer—two more “Women with Chutzpah” who literally danced together through life. These two women met in 1965, and fell in love. In 1967, Thea proposed to Edie, presenting her with a diamond brooch instead of a ring to avoid attracting attention. In 1975, when Thea was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis, they modified their dancing—whirling on crutches, then a wheelchair—and remained committed to each other. In 2007, they were finally legally married in Canada, this time with a very public announcement. Thea died in 2009. And that beautiful, vibrant, loving 44 year relationship was treated like it never happened.
But Edie, in the name of Thea and their love, stood up like the daughters of Tzelophchad, went through the system from one court to another, and this week, the Supreme Court of our land said, “כן—YES” this women is right, this law is wrong and it must be changed.
It is my bond with the daughters of Tzelophchad, that makes this parasha my parasha, but we are all a part of their inheritance. They stood up for their rights and for equal justice. They did so with respect and with strength. As do Anat Hoffman and the Women of the Wall. As did Edie Windsor and her lawyer, Roberta Kaplan. And as did Wendy Davis and Leticia Van De Putte in the Texas statehouse this week, literally standing up for women’s rights and access to the health care they need. And as did Kris Perry and Sandy Stier who, along with Paul Katami, Jeffrey Zarrillo and their lawyers, fought and won the right for marriage equality in our state of California—and hopefully soon, throughout our country.
Rabbi Arthur Green teaches that each generation leaves a bit of their oil on the Torah as it passes through their fingers. What happened in this country this week will become some of that oil, bringing light and relevance to the story of Chaglah, Machlah, Noa, Milcah, and Tirtzah—the righteous daughters of Tzelophchad—and pass that on to the next generation of  “Women—and Men—with Chutzpah.”

כן יהי רצון –  Ken y’hi ratzon – May it be so
Shabbat Shalom