Orientation.

.אורינטציה

To bring a conclusion to the backpack saga, I saw a different backpack when I returned to the store; not only did I think it would better fit my needs but it was also significantly cheaper. I got it for 119 NIS (instead of the 270 being asked for the other one). In other good news, it looks like all my undergraduate loans are appropriately in in-school deferment. No more headaches about that for a while!

Now, on to the good stuff. Yesterday we officially began orientation, and I'm very glad that we've finally gotten on the road. I'm so relieved that I didn't decide to come to Jerusalem earlier - being here (alone) for longer than I have been might have driven me stir crazy. But, starting Sunday, we actually get to start learning again, and for this I'm very excited.

Meantime, we've not only been introducing ourselves to one another but also starting to really get a sense for each person's origin on this exciting and terrifying journey. Last night, we started by framing the conversation with two Talmudic stories. Here are non-literal translations of the passages (Bavli, Brachot 30a; Bavli, Brachot 11a):

1. How does one say the Traveler's Prayer? Rabbi Hisda says standing up; Rabbi Sheshet says also while proceeding (i.e., while standing still or while walking ahead). One day, R. Hisda and R. Sheshet were traveling together, and R. Hisda stood still and prayed. R. Sheshet (who was blind) asked his attendant, "What is R. Hisda doing?" He replied, "He is standing and praying." R. Sheshet then said, "Place me in position so that I may also pray; if you can be good, do not be called bad."

2. How does one say the Shema? Rabbi Hillel says: standing, sitting, reclining, walking on the road, or at one's work. Rabbi Shammai says: reclining. Once, Rabbi Ishamel and Rabbi Eleazar ben Azariah were dining at the same place, and R. Ishmael was reclining while R. Eleazar was standing upright. When the time came for reciting the Shema, R. Eleazar reclined (because R. Ishmael was also reclining), but R. Ishmael stood up (even though he could have said the Shema while reclining). R. Eleazar said to R. Ishmael, "Brother Ishmael, I will tell you a parable. Our conduct is like that of a man to whom people say, 'You have a fine beard,' and he replies, 'Then I will shave it off!' You are acting the same way. While I was standing upright, you were reclining, but when I also reclined, you stood upright!" R. Ishmael replied, "I have acted according to the rule of the House of Hillel, and you have acted according to the rule of the House of Shammai. What's more, I had to act this way lest our students should see us and determine that there is only one way to say the Shema."

So, what do we gain from these stories? While there are certainly any number of aspects we could latch on to with either one of them, our conversation mostly focused on the following: R. Sheshet compromised, while R. Ishmael stood up for his belief.

Now, both R. Sheshet and R. Ishmael can be positive role models. R. Sheshet is open minded about his Jewish experience and thus can include R. Hisda's philosophy in his own. R. Ishmael, even though he is also open minded, chooses to act in a contradictory manner in order to make a pedagogical point. Our discussion last night somewhat focused on how we related to these stories (in addition to the fairly unrelated questions of how we came to be at HUC and what we hope to bring to the HUC community).

In my own opinion, I would, of course, like to take a little from each camp. I am very open-minded with my theology, and I strive to find truth wherever I am able. As such, I not only seek spiritual significance in many forms of Judaism, but I also look for inspiration from other religions as well as secular creations. Thus, even though it is not my practice to wrap tefillin, I may still find it meaningful, and while I may not pray in a church, I may gain significant spiritual insight from being in one. In my personal exploration of faith, therefore, I would readily accept any opportunity to learn from another and add their experiences to my own, for I feel I can only be enriched by such openness.

This perspective needs to be reassessed in two circumstances, however. First, when I pray (deeply and meaningfully), there usually has to be a certain amount of comfort involved. That is, either I am already comfortable with the words and music and intention and placement of the prayer and am able to turn myself over to them, or I am made to feel comfortable with all those things by inspirational prayer leaders (as happened to me when I first went to Congregation B'nai Jeshurun in New York City). Thus, if I'm at a traditional (segregated, all-Hebrew, and with melodies I don't know) service, for example, I might gain insight into my own theological understanding of the universe ... but I won't be able to pray very well.

The other circumstance is the one that R. Ishmael points out: If I am responsible to a community for representing the truths and values of that community, I might need to put aside my personal curiosity and stand up for a particular way of doing things. Thus, let's take two situations: The first is I'm by myself in a Conservative congregation where no one knows me, and the service leader says, "I invite those for whom it is tradition to rise during the Mourner's Kaddish to do so now," I might remain seated in order to have the rare experience of praying the Mourner's Kaddish as a member of that community would. However, if I'm with friends or colleagues in the exact same situation, I would stand up.

Why? It's my tradition, and I'm proud of that, and I want to share that with everyone. Staying seated makes no statement, while standing up says that at least one person here validates the reason that the service leader makes the invitation. (On top of that, I happen to believe that I should rise for the Mourner's Kaddish on a spiritual level, so I'm not just making a point but rather am making a point of following my beliefs.)

To zoom out for a moment, I believe that Reform Judaism needs to take this into account on a large scale. A conversation I had with Jessica's parents many months ago highlighted a perception that I don't feel is uncommon among Reform Jews. That is, many Reform Jews would love to know that it means to be Reform aside from the easy answer of "I'm not Conservative, Orthodox, Reconstructionist, etc." There is an answer (that I'm in the process of learning and living), but it (a) is not simple and straightforward and (b) is hard to reify into actual practice. Nevertheless, I believe it's important to take a stand, and I would venture that Reform Judaism should defend to its core the following very simple statement:

One who believes she is a Jew is a Jew.

Then, of course, books are written and classes are taught to consider what this means for conversion, marriage, parentage, childbearing, circumcision, Zionism, kashrut, etc. And then, in standing up for this belief, one can stand up for equal rights for all Jews, both in the eyes of the diasporic communities as well as the Jewish community in Israel. It's very hard to find something firm to stand on when your philosophy is based on pluralism, but affirming Jewish identity in this way is, I believe, far from the norm in Jewish thought, and even this one small sentence would require enormous stamina and courage to support. And I believe the Reform movement is up to such a stance.

Personally, I believe the stance should include an acceptance of inter-faith couples and an uncompromising affirmation of same-sex marriage. I also believe that our focus on strong and positive Jewish identity should be highlighted in our religious education; so many Reform Jews think they're "just" Reform Jews who don't follow the commandments rather than Reform Jews who stand for a positive ideology that promotes justice, compassion, and righteousness.

So, at the end of the day, perhaps my mind is a R. Sheshet and my heart is a R. Ishmael. As orientation continued today and we had the opportunity to take a look at what we're in for, I became optimistic at the possibility that I will be able to explore both personalities within myself. This optimism was born at morning services, which were so beautiful with everyone participating with real spirit and which were capped with the glowing ornament of our cantorial students singing Oseh Shalom as the closing song. The morning service confirmed my long ( l o n g ) hope that I would at last be able to pray in an environment where everyone wants to be there, everyone knows the words, and everyone has enormous potential to grow from each individual service. That I can pray with my classmates is a very good sign, and whatever else may transpire over the next year and over the next five years, I know that we will all be able to meet in the sanctuary in peace.

The optimism continued as we heard from our dean and our head of student life; the faculty of this school really care about us and are devoted to making sure that we get as much out of our year as we possibly can. And finally, during our last conversation of the day, I got the slightest taste of what it will be like in class as we shared our fears and hopes about the coming year and were able to translate the personal stories we had shared yesterday into concrete statements that were being supported and acknowledged by our peers.

I certainly believe that there are students here who are very different from me, but I nonetheless look forward to sharing this experience with them and learning about myself from them, and I hope that I will have the capacity to share myself with them in a similar manner. All in all, I'm looking forward to a strong year: This year in Jerusalem!

PS It occurs to me that this post (and, more than likely, my other as well) is fairly stream-of-consciousness and not at all polished. I'll go ahead and state for the record that I don't expect that to change; therefore, bear that in mind while reading. What I write here may not be my final opinion on something, it may not be the full story as I or others see it or saw it, and it may, frankly, not make very much sense. But I do encourage you to post/email any questions you have, and I hope I won't go too far afield as I'm letting my mind run wild. I will admit: It's rather fun!

The first Jerusalem Sabbath.

.השבת הירושלמי הראשון

The past 28 hours have been really terrific, especially after overseeing the NFTY event has put me on the first step to feeling "at home" here (at least temporarily). What's really been significant is that I feel that I have taken up the student mantle once again, and I'm really getting a sense that this is going to be a magnificent year.

Now seems to be a time when a lot of Union of Reform Judaism officials converge on Jerusalem; I don't know whether it has anything at all to do with the beginning of our academic year. (I suspect that, if anything, it has to do with NFTY in Israel, though probably it's a combination of a lot of factors.) Regardless of the reason, there have been a number of influential people that I've met in the past day, and I'm sorry to say that I don't remember most of them.

The major area of intersection between my life and all of theirs (as well as some of the local HUC-related community) was a day of study housed at HUC yesterday. There were several classes offered, and my fellow students and I were encouraged to attend and to study alongside older members of the community and visitors. I was present for the entire day (partially thanks to my conveniently located apartment!) and was very fortunate to have kick started my academic studies here without even having to take notes!

The first class I took was a lesson about how Hebrew words are formed in Modern Hebrew and part of the controversy surrounding the initial decision to make words this way taught by Dr. Yossi Leshem. Aside from being linguistically interesting, the class was also given entirely in Hebrew. In many ways, the class reminded me of my regular Hebrew classes, though after 45 minutes of trying to pay attention to every word, I realized that it's going to take me a bit of time before I can comfortably sit through an hour plus of instruction in Hebrew. Nevertheless, my ability to follow along gives me optimism that, if my classes are, in fact, taught in Hebrew this year, I will probably be able to keep up.

Then, I attended a lesson entitled "The Death of Memory and the Memory of Death: Constructions of the Past in Contemporary Israeli Society," offered by Rothberg International School of the Hebrew University professor Dr. David Mendelsson. Dr. Mendelsson engaged us in a discussion about the evolution of Israeli identity, mostly focusing on the 1960s and earlier. He noted that many Israelis would have delineated their history something like this:

ANTIQUITY
.
.
.
Masada
.
Bar Kochba Revolt
.
EXILE
.
.
.
Tel Hai
.
REBIRTH OF ISRAELI NATION

Basically, this outline skips over 1800 years of development and growth and focuses on the notion that modern Israelis (or Hebrews as they referred to themselves prior to the creation of the State of Israel) are a direct continuation of those who held this land in Antiquity. This outlook associates with the "exile" period only sadness and pain and looks to the Holocaust as validation that nothing good could ever come from living among the other nations of the world. Naturally, this perspective has changed over time, but it was prevalent in many sectors of Israeli society for a number of years prior to the late 1960s.

There was one more class before lunch, but I'll save that for last. Over lunch, Rabbi Naamah Kelman (a good friend of one of my professors at UVA, Vanessa Ochs) shared her findings about modern secular Israeli weddings and how more and more modern secular Israelis are seeking to insert personal touches and liturgical updates into their ceremonies. This was definitely an interesting conversation, especially in light of the fact that I'm going to an Israeli wedding on Thursday!

Now, the most poignant class for me was offered by Rabbi Dr. David Levine, and it was called "Authority and Innovation in Talmudic Thought." The concept of "new tradition" being validated by the rabbinic legacy is very important to me, and I've been thinking for some years about the inherently Jewish nature of innovation. Dr. Levine helped me find further validation of my hypothesis and enriched my understanding of rabbinic methodology.

He began the lecture by reviewing the traditional rabbinic thought pattern. Today, we often generalize into abstractions, and the more universal we are, the more sophisticated we are regarded to be. The rabbis, on the other hand, taught though specific examples and anecdotes. That is, theirs was a vocabulary of specifics, and great ideas were represented through single foci.

My own contribution to this concept would be one of symbology. It seems to me that each of the characters in an anecdote is a symbol for his or her Character, which is established through other stories involving the similar or identical person. Likewise, a conclusion drawn about one law is symbolic for a general truth that can be extrapolated. This understanding is based on previous study I've done, mostly on Paul Tillich's Dynamics of Faith.

Having established that a single source can stand for an enormous idea, Dr. Levine moved to a Talmudic passage that I want to record here for anyone who is interested (and for my personal review later).

Yerushalmi Demai 2:1 22c (similar text in Bavli Hullin 6b-7a)

ר' זעירא ר' חייא בשם ר' יוחנן. ר' התיר בית-שאן מפי יהושוע בן חמיו שלר' מאיר שאמ'. אני ראיתי את ר' מאיר לוקח ירק מן הגינה בשביעיתץ והתיר את כולה. אמ' ר' זעירא. הדא אמרה. אסור לבר נש מיעבד מילה בציבורא. אני או'. אותה הגינה היתה מיוחדת את כולה. ר' התיר בית-שאן. ר' התיר קסריין. ר' התיר בית-גוברין. ר' התיר כפר-צמח. ר' התיר ליקח ירק במוצאי שביעית. והיו הכל מליזין עליו. אמ' להן. בורא ונדיין. כת' "וכתת נחש הנחושת." וכי לא עמד צדיק ממשה ועד חזקיהו להעבירו. אלא אותה עטרה הניח לו הקב'ה להתעטר בה. [ואנן העטרה הזאת הניח הקבה'ו לנו להתעטר בה.] ס

R. Zeira [and] R. Hiyya in the name of R. Yohanan [said], "Rabbi [Judah the Patriarch] permitted [produce purchased in] Bet Shean [to be eaten without first separating tithes], on the testimony of Joshua b. Zeruz, the son of R. Meir's father-in-law, who said, 'I saw R. Meir take vegetables from the garden during the seventh year,' and he [Rabbi] permitted all of it, [that is, produce grown in the entire territory of Bet Shean, on the strength of this precedent].'"

Said R. Zeira, "this teaches [us] that it is forbidden for a person to do anything in public [from which others might draw a mistaken inference as to the general permissibility of the action]. For I might have said, 'That garden was set aside by him [R. Meir], and [on that basis Rabbi] permitted all of it [the territory of Bet Shean]?!'"

[It has been taught (in a baraita):] Rabbi permitted [produce sold in] Bet Shean [to be eaten without separating tithes], Rabbi permitted Caesaria, Rabbi permitted Bet Guvrin, Rabbi permitted Kfar Tzemach, Rabbi permitted the purchase of vegetables immediately in the year following the seventh year [unconcerned that they might have taken root before the end of the seventh year], and everyone jeered at him [because of these innovations].

He said to them, "Come, let us reason [about this matter]. It is written, He [Hezekiah] broke into pieces the bronze serpent [that Moses had made, for until that time the Israelites had been offering sacrifices to it; it was called Nehushtan] (2 Kings 18:4). Now did no righteous man airse from [the time of] Moses to [the time of] Hezekiah to remove it? Rather, the Holy One, praised be He, reserved for him [Hezekiah] that crown with which to adorn himself. So, too, with respect to us--the Holy One, praised be He, reserved for us this particular crown with which to adorn ourselves."

So, what does all this mean? Some things to consider: First, "Rabbi" [Judah the Patriarch] is believed to be the chief editor of the Mishnah, which is a rabbinic text offering interpretations and adjudications of Jewish law and which is part of the Talmud. So, he's definitely highly regarded. Second, Judah was trying to liberalize the tradition in order to alleviate stress on the Jewish people. As taught by Dr. Levine, certain laws only need to be observed within the borders of the "Land of Israel," which is not legally bound by geography but rather by mentality of the Jewish people. Thus, Rabbi Judah was trying to alter the boundary by altering the mentality of the people in order to act righteously, as he saw it, by allowing certain farmers the ability to live where they were without fear of losing their livelihood once every seven years to the sabbatical requirements.

Judah bases his authority to change the tradition on the biblical account of Hezekiah's destruction of Moses' copper serpent, which had long been treated as an idol. Judah asks, "Why didn't any of the other righteous kings before Hezekiah destroy the idol?* Because God reserved that honor for Hezekiah." In other words, an unholy practice was allowed by God to continue until the right person came along to change it. And in Rabbi Judah's perspective, the same conditions applied to these sabbatical laws. They are unholy and need to be changed, and Rabbi Judah has both the authority and the imperative to change them.

* - In the similar text in the Babylonian Talmud, Judah adds, "Now, is it not at all likely that Asa did not destroy it? Or that Jehoshaphat did not destroy it? Surely Asa and Jehoshophat destroyed every form of idolatry in the world!"

In the Babylonian version, God is removed from the equation, and Judah concludes that Hezekiah's ancestors "left something undone," and so too did Judah's ancestors (the rabbis/lawmakers who came before him) leave "room for [him] to distinguish [him]self."

This whole passage, then, is a discussion about rabbinic authority and imperative to analyze the current state of affairs and react to them, to wisely and justly interpret God's Torah so that humanity can be affirmed and the sacred rights of humankind can be upheld. As soon as religion stops changing, so does conscience, and we cannot afford to allow our consciences to slumber when genocide, famine, and disease challenge us every day to meet them with determination and compassion.

Occasionally over the past week, I've felt the weight of Israel's orthodoxy hovering over me. As I walk to HUC past people dressed as traditionally observant Jews, I've felt that, in their eyes, I could never be as authoritative as their own rabbi. I've felt that, in some way, my ordination as a rabbi will be significantly different than theirs. And, of course, it will be significantly different, but I am reaffirming now that it will be parallel and not behind the ordination of more observant rabbis. I am just as much an inheritor of Jewish tradition as any "orthodox" Jew, and even though I haven't spent the last fifteen years in yeshiva, that doesn't mean I haven't been studying Judaism for the last fifteen years. The "worldly" (translated "secular") experiences I've had in Roanoke, at UVA, and in Washington, DC have in no way diminished my capacity to understand or teach Judaism. And just because I can't quote Talmud and don't (yet) know Aramaic doesn't make me less of a participant in the rabbinic authority and imperative affirmed by Judah the Patriarch. I love my tradition, and I take part in it every day, with or without a kippah on my head.

And it's this message that was impressed into me at the Jerusalem home of Rabbi David Ellenson, president of HUC. In his opening address to our class, he remarked about our leadership, our education, and our commitment. He said that we are going to be leaders of the Jewish community for one reason and one reason only: Our knowledge. There are going to be scientists, technicians, linguists, farmers, etc. in our congregations and our lives that are going to be smarter than us and more knowledgeable than us in a lot of ways. But what gives us credence, what makes us rabbis (and cantors and Jewish professional educators) is the knowledge we have of the Jewish tradition. The knowledge we will gain at HUC isn't watered down Judaism, it is a living affirmation of a long and ever-changing history, and those who would detract from our learning, according to Rabbi Ellenson, have little to contribute to the dialogue of modern religious society. This society must be focused on social improvement, on interfaith and intrafaith cooperation, and positive construction of the world we envision for ourselves and our tradition.

After spending a Shabbat (Friday night and now Saturday morning) surrounded by participants in and supporters of the Hebrew Union College, I now feel part of something real. My rabbinate isn't real (yet), and the actions that I hope to take someday have not yet been conceived. And, again from the perspective of Rabbi Ellenson, those actions cannot be born unless we receive the education we are about to engage in. A URJ representative jokingly told us that our grades don't matter as no congregation will care about our grades. An HUC representative jokingly told us that our congregants don't matter as no professor will care about how receptive we will one day be to them. Rabbi Ellenson seriously told us that there is no difference between what we learn here and the work we will someday accomplish. He encouraged us to be involved and in love with our study, to embrace the Jewish heritage that we have been blessed to inherit and to learn about it so that we can teach it to others after completing our program.

And I intend to do just that. I've been thinking a lot recently (over the past year or so) about what kind of rabbi I want to be. I think I need to lay those concerns aside and focus instead on what kind of rabbinical student I want to be, for without a successful career as a student, I cannot have a successful career as a teacher.