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Controversial Observations, Uncategorized June 19, 2014

Eli Talks #3: Two Zions

Welcome to Eli Talks #3, A Tale of Two Zions.

The main reason I chose this particular talk out of the selections Miriam sent me is this: I disagree completely with most of it.  More later.

First, here’s the talk, and a comment about the name “Mishael.”  I think it is an excellent name.  I wonder why it’s not more common.  Daniel, Mishael and Azariah were a threesome but somewhere along the way Mishael fell off the name wagon.  OK.  Onward, or as they say so pithily in Israel, “Yala!”

Eli Talks’ Miriam Brosseau says:
Rabbi Mishael Zion is nothing if not a family man (he even wrote a haggadah with his father); and that includes his extended family of the entire Jewish people. Which makes the premise of his talk all the more provocative. What does it mean for a family to be simultaneously united and divided?
In some ways, I find his premise to be totally intuitive. Of course! It’s a descriptive talk, not a prescriptive one. This is just how it is! And I love the way he intertwines Hillel’s deceptively simple teaching about responsibility and selfhood.
In other ways, it’s an unsettling position. The Land of Israel isn’t the only great dream of the Jewish people? And hey, even if we are talking about Israel and America (or Jerusalem and New York, as it sometimes feels), what about the rest of the Jewish world? What are they, chopped liver?
Ultimately I do think it’s a prescriptive talk – a talk that’s trying to encourage a sense of mindfulness. We are a people with a project…or two. We are in it together. So we should learn from and with one another and get it together. Cuz if not now, when?
(And if you liked this talk, a good companion piece is Gidi Grinstein’s “Flexigidity.”)
OOTOB’s Ruchi Koval says:

I mean, I loved the stories about the grandfather – how could you not?  And of course about working together, etc.  But there’s  underlying premise here that I really just can’t get around, and the irony is I felt that way when I first watched this talk a couple of weeks ago, before #bringbackourboys.  Before Eyal, Gilad, and Naftali were kidnapped – three kids, teens, unarmed – just for being Jews.  Not for being Israelis mind you, as one is not Israeli but rather American.
How can we say we’re better off than in our ghettos, when there are plenty of neighborhoods – shockingly, the whole middle chunk of the country – that is unsafe for Jews?  How can we say our dreams have come true when kids are kidnapped for no reason whatsoever?  How can we say this is the successful story of our arrival?  By the same token, how can we say the Diaspora experience is the fulfillment?  The only thing Israel has over America is its holiness.  And it had that before 1948.  If you look at our prayers, it’s all about Israel.  Every single thing we say references Israel.  “God, thanks for the awesome meal!  Oh, and bring us back to Israel!”  Really.  True story.
And part of that is fulfilled by Israel today.  The holiness.  The intensity.  The opportunities for Jewish expression.  But much is NOT fulfilled.  Much is unfulfilled.  And it’s unfulfilled in the Diaspora too.  That’s why we continue to wait for the Messiah… may it be soon.

In this vein, not only isn’t the rest of Diaspora “chopped liver” (yum) but Israel is the epicenter from which all radii, um, radiate.  So Israel, then unifies us ALL.  No matter which Jew I am chatting with, Israel is something we can talk about, even if no one has been there.  This actually happened to me at a rest stop in upstate NY when three teens with tattoos and chains walked in.  I was terrified, till they came over and seriously bageled me!  In Hebrew! We all care about it.  Most of us know someone there!  (The only thing that really comes even halfway close is Jewish NY’s weird relationship with Miami.) So Israel, far from being a competitor (!) to “us,” is a unifier.

Controversial Observations, Uncategorized June 12, 2014

Eli Talks #2: The Unbearable Lightness of Judaism

Alright, ladies and gents.  Welcome to our second installment of Eli Talks!

Here is Micah Lapidus, discussing a topic that is dear to my heart, but I like how he puts it: the incredible lightness of Judaism.  He raises the issue of Judaism being viewed as a burden for some – whether identity or observance – and what to do about it.


Eli Talks director Miriam Brosseau says:

We all want to live lives of meaning, of purpose. How do we get that? How do we make meaning? 
When I think about the things in my life that are most meaningful, those things that give me a sense of purpose, they’re all the really hard stuff. Family is one of those things. My husband and I have a 1 year-old who is the greatest thing on the planet, and all of the tough stuff with him is also the very best stuff. I can’t count how many hours I’ve spent humming and singing and shushing my little boy to sleep at all hours of the night. And now he’s teething and his nap schedule is off and he wakes up…oy. It’s exhausting! But then, in the middle of all this, I suddenly have that moment where he’s curled himself around me, totally trusting, his sleepy weight sinking into me…and I get it. I love it. I wouldn’t exchange those moments for anything.
The weight of a (not) sleeping baby, or family in general, or work, or community, can feel like a burden we want lightened. Judaism can feel like that. But what do we lose when we lighten the load? What does that mean for Judaism and Jewish life? Can we make still make meaning if we don’t feel that heaviness? And if we can’t, what does that, well, mean? Micah Lapidus may not answer all these questions in this talk, but he asks them in such an eloquent, genuine manner that I can’t help but think about it.

OOTOB’s Ruchi Koval says:


I sometimes feel like the object of pity.  I “have to” wear long sleeves in the summer, cover my hair, and be restricted in what I eat.  And in all honesty… those things sometimes feel burdensome to me too. But if I didn’t feel like Judaism offered me so, so much, it would feel like a heavy burden all the time. So how does Judaism feel not only light, but that IT’S carrying ME?

Judaism to me is an answer.  It gives meaning to my days, clarity to my questions, and depth to my emotions.  It’s a destination for my prayers, eternity to my feelings of smallness, and an infinite legacy for my fleeting moments of joy and sadness.

Forget about carrying a burden; how could I survive without it??

Imagine a man hiking in the desert with a backpack of food.  Is the pack heavy?  Yes, and the heavier it is – the more that’s in it – the more he will be nourished.

Now the question is, how to transmit this to the next generation?  Not a complete answer in any way, but the only way to even have a chance at successfully transmitting anything to the next generation is to be totally sure of it ourselves.  Which begs the next question… how can we teach ourselves that Judaism is not only light, but lightens our load in life?


What do you think?

Controversial Observations, Uncategorized May 12, 2014

Blog Roundup: Tanta Golda, the son of a Nazi, Social Orthodoxy, and more

Hey OOTOB fans,

This is the first in a series that I’ll feature occasionally, where I bring you different things I’ve discovered around the web that I’ve found interesting lately.  Call it “trending,” or whatever you want – I’ve found it interesting and I’ve decided to bring it to you.  Feel free to send me things that piqued your curiosity or sparked conversation for possible inclusion here in future posts.

ASK TANTA GOLDA

Firstly, I discovered a whole new blog that, honestly, I’m surprised I’ve never encountered before.  It’s called “Ask Tanta Golda” and the concept is somewhat similar to OOTOB.  The blogger, Geri Copitch, adopts the Tanta persona, which I find cute, although I certainly do not agree with all her responses.  It’s unclear to me what her affiliation is, and it seems she prefers it that way.  Check it out and share your impressions.

VIDEO: SON OF A NAZI

This video was sent to me by my friend’s mom and it sat in my inbox for like a month (I have precious little time for videos – I read faster than I can watch – plus it was a whopping 24 minutes long) before I watched it.  But, man, was I glad I did.  It was an immediate share on Facebook, and got a strongly positive reaction there including several shares.  You can’t find it by searching YouTube because it’s privacy-protected.  I won’t give it away – it’s a first-person account of the son of a Nazi and how he chooses to deal with his painful family history.  Seriously, pull up a chair and give this 24 minutes of eyeball time. You will not regret it.

SOCIAL ORTHODOXY

This piece has been getting a lot of attention in the Orthodox world.  A few friends sent it my way and I found it both troubling and insightful.  Here’s a response from Rabbi Maryles, a Modern Orthodox scholar, and here’s one from Rabbi Shafran, a “haredi” scholar.

MOTHER’S DAY AND RWANDA

To close, I have a Mother’s Day question for you.  One of my friends posted this on Facebook:

“Today I’d like to wish everyone a Happy Mothering Day. You do not have to have your own children to make a difference in a child’s life. You also don’t have to be female. Thank you for being in our children’s lives and loving on them – you are our village!”  

I love this friend, but this status doesn’t sit well with me at all.  Mother’s Day is actually for… mothers.  Why dilute this by universalizing it to include anyone that has anything to do with kids?  It reminds me of several years ago, when the Holocaust Museum featured a refugee from Rwanda to speak at their annual benefit.  While her story was incredibly stirring, I was in shock that the Holocaust message was being universalized, essentially losing an opportunity to hear from a Holocaust survivor.  Now, maybe I’m getting a little too worked up over Mother’s Day, which is probably just a Hallmark holiday, but I think that’s why it bothers me so much.  It’s the underlying trend to universalize everything Jewish to include everyone and anyone, thus reducing anything specific we’ve experienced to nothing more than a humanitarian mish-mash.  

Thoughts?

Controversial Observations, Uncategorized May 7, 2014

I Love My House

No one will complain when you get a bonus post in the middle of the week, right?

It’s been nearly five years since we’ve moved into our new home, and guess what?  The pretty paint job is marred with spots and dents, the tile is cracking in various places, and the white pristine molding looks… neither white nor pristine.

When we remodeled this home, I felt incredibly conflicted.  Because I really, really liked my new house.  In fact… I loved it.  But you’re not supposed to love a house.  You’re supposed to love people, experiences, God.  So I worked on myself to channel that love positively.  I will use my house for Torah!  Host guests.  Open it up for other people’s guests.  Have Shabbos and holidays here.  Have Torah classes here.  Fill it with love for my family, warm memories, and delicious meals (that I will cook quickly).  Then it will be perfectly legitimate to love my house, because it’s a house that is altruistic and not selfish.

I also asked myself two questions:

1. If the Messiah were to come tomorrow, and you had to leave this home and move to Israel, would you be sad or happy?

2. When the house shows its age, or the kids ruin it, as kids inevitably do so well, will you be resentful?

I gotta say, the first one was pretty easy.  I would do it in a heartbeat.  The second one was hard.  And every day that my kids or guests have spilled grape juice on the carpet, thrown a cordless phone at the wall (fer instance), broken the lock on the back door (true story), or otherwise systematically and ruthlessly destroyed my beautiful home, with each of these moments I’ve tried to hard to remember “we love people more than homes.”

Julia Blum, a singer and songwriter originally from Beverly Hills, California, describes her very first Shabbos in Jerusalem as a guest in someone’s tiny apartment.  The daughter was carrying in chicken on a beautiful platter, seemingly the only expensive item in the whole home.  As she did, she slipped, and the tray fell to the ground and shattered.  The parents’ eyes met over the table, and simultaneously, both shouted “Mazel tov!”

In Julia’s words, “It was the first time I had encountered the attitude that so instinctively, people were more important than things.”  She describes, hilariously, walking into a home in her native Beverly Hills where you were met by a butler, your coat could only be hung in certain places, and some rooms were off-limits to guests.

So now it’s the moment of truth.  The house is no longer new and fresh.  Its age and flaws are showing. And yet, when I think back, I recall five years of great memories, great Shabbos meals, great events, great conversations.  I love my house.  And this time, for all the right reasons.

Controversial Observations, Uncategorized March 2, 2014

Convert Stories

When I used to teach tenth grade girls in our local Jewish day school, a not-uncommon question asked was, “Of course I know there is a God, but how do I know Judaism is the right religion?  Just because I was born Jewish?  So what?”

I have never, ever heard a non-Orthodox Jew ask this question.

A more common question in the non-Orthodox world is, “How do we really know there is a God in the world, who created this world and cares what we do?”  Implicit in this question, and I’ve heard it expressed explicitly too, is “of course if I were to be religious it would be Judaism.” Non-Orthodox Jews typically do not wish for the religious observances of other religions.  They KNOW they’re Jewish, they just don’t know where God fits in.

Orthodox Jews typically KNOW where God fits in.  They’re just wondering: why Jewish?

Enter convert stories.

When speakers travel the circuit and tell their “personal journey stories” (why I became religious, why I converted to Judaism) I’ve noticed a similar dynamic.  Convert stories are like gospel (oops) to Orthodox Jews.  It basically confirms and supports what they wondered: why be Jewish?  Because here is a person who was choosing a religion, and chose… Judaism.  Without being born to it.  Orthodox Jews LOVE convert stories.  They are inspired and motivated in their born faith by hearing the struggles and journey of a person who chose religious Judaism of their own volition.

Non-Orthodox Jews, less so.  They want to know things like: okay, I see why you left the religion of your youth, but why Judaism, specifically?  Without trying to be rude, they want to know: was it circumstantial?  If another religion would have found you at the crucial moment, would the conversion have been to that religion?  If another religion comes along that resonates more, would you consider it?

Another disconnect:

A lot of converts are converting from one fundamental religious lifestyle to another.  This unnerves non-Orthodox Jews.  They can’t relate to the fundamentalism in the first place, so there’s barely any point of connection in the story.  For a non-Orthodox Jew to become religious, a huge obstacle of faith-in-the-first place must be surmounted, and this particular type of convert doesn’t address it.  Faith is in their bloodstream from their earliest memories.  In fact, when I read blogs or books by religious members of other faiths, I feel a strong kinship and support.

It took a lot of thinking for me to figure out why convert-stories that left me feeling so inspired and moved, left my fellow non-Orthodox friends feeling somewhat flat and underwhelmed.  So that’s my theory.

Your thoughts?

Controversial Observations, Uncategorized January 6, 2014

Yoga and Orthodoxy: Compare and Contrast

Assignment: Compare and contrast yoga and Orthodox Judaism.

The panelists are all familiar with both yoga and religious, observant Judaism.  They are all friends of mine in real life.  Some are highly trained yogis and others practitioners.  Note: the ideas and opinions expressed below do not necessarily reflect my theology.  

The Similarities




Sandy Gross:


They’re the same, in that it’s morals and ethics.  It’s more like Mussar (spiritual character development in Judaism).  As far as Orthodoxy, yoga just uses different tools – poses, for example – for us to “practice” applying these morals and ethics (in yoga they’re called Yamas & Niyamas).  Orthodoxy uses other practical tools – the 613 laws.  Both are practices, and practical, and that’s why I like JFX (the Jewish Family Experience, our congregation) so much!  We can always use more tools to help us be more mindful and inspired people:)

Scott Simon:


I think what is interesting about yoga poses – which most people consider “yoga” to be – is that they are not really about getting into shape.  They are actually meant to prepare the body to be able to sit for long periods of time in spiritual quest (meditation etc).  Judaism I am sure has methods to begin the process of getting us ready to enhance our connection with G-d through prayer.   

Sindy Warren:


I agree with Scott’s point about the yoga poses (asana practice) being intended to ready the body and mind for meditation, which can be, in some ways, likened to prayer.  I also like Sandy’s point about both paths being moral and ethical guidelines for proper living.  They can also both be seen as paths for spiritual growth and bringing one closer to one’s own potential.

Sandy Gross:

I view the laws, mitzvot, as very present moment opportunities to connect to G-d.  If one chooses to do them:). Ha. That’s why I think a lot people have connected so well into yoga – learning to integrate your upper arm bone into the shoulder socket properly in a weight bearing position (and other physical alignment hard rules), for example, may not seem very “spiritual”  but to me, it’s integrating mind with body, helping the body to return to harmony – it should be considered spiritual.  Alignment for me is respect for this amazing body and this is extremely spiritual.  I am integrating it with its operating system (G-d?) with every move I make.  I try anyway…that’s why we call it a yoga “practice”  :). 

Karen Marocco:


I think in many ways Judaism and yoga complement each other. Below are some of my thoughts:
For me, yoga is very much a practice of mindfulness. On the surface it’s about being aware of how your body moves/feels, the quality of breathing, what you eat etc. But it’s also about being mindful/aware of your thoughts, habits and actions-even throughout the day when you’re not doing the actual poses. For example, loshon hara  (the Hebrew term for the sin of gossip) is something many of us struggle with – or at least I do. Practicing mindfulness has helped me become more conscious of my words. It’s hard to better yourself when you’re unaware.
In teacher training we had to choose one yoga sutra/teaching that resonated with us and write about it. I chose the sutra surrender to a Higher power because it’s so in alignment – get it, ha! – with Judaism.  When my mom got sick, we turned to science/medicine for help. But ultimately, we believe that it rests with God. We do what we can and then surrender the results to Hashem (God).
Jody Trostler:

Interestingly I believe that my connection to yoga when I started practicing 13 years ago-ish was what was missing for me spiritually in Judaism. I was raised very secular and did not know what I did not know about the power of Judaism spiritually and intellectually. 
As I have learned and grown Jewishly,  some of the common practices of vinyasa yoga have become a bit uncomfortable. OM-ing and bowing/namaste is one of them. I felt a bit uncomfortable in my first yoga class after returning from my first and only Israel trip. I think my experience was so deep and profound spiritually that everything else felt shallow. Now I realize that I was being judgemental in these thoughts. 
I remember Shawna Rosner and I were talking about this years ago and she told me that instead of namaste she would say the Shema. I loved that and I now have adopted that practice (thanks Shawna!). This brings me close to G-d and is a reminder to pray when I am in a good place.
As my Jewish education has expanded and grown through mussar and Sunday school I do see several crossovers in the yoga teachings and mussar. It’s all great stuff and it just reinforces that I am on a path of growth.
The Differences:

Shawna Rosner:

First of all, I believe that Orthodoxy and yoga are mutually exclusive and in my life they remain so. I have always been closely identified with being Jewish and practicing Judaism, and did not turn to yoga to fill my need for religion. However, I found that I really cherished the snippets of philosophy on life that were often times interwoven into my yoga classes (and still do). As I have come to study more Torah, and Mussar in particular, I have found many parallels between yoga and Judaism and some differences as well. I no longer go to a yoga class craving the spiritual lesson as I have found it elsewhere (mostly thanks to JFX). 
My yoga practice is based on a mind and body experience. I try to find peace, balance and equanimity in my yoga practice, but I would be deceitful if I didn’t admit that the physical benefits of the practice are very important to me. I feel better after yoga and I believe this is just one step in becoming a better me and better able to give more of myself to those around me a d the universe as a whole. I also feel this way after studying Torah and Mussar. 
For me yoga is not a soulful experience. By that I mean I do not feel closer to a higher power when practicing. However, as Jody mentioned I do take the opportunity to say Shema during opening and closing of class and when Sanskrit just doesn’t feel right to me. So in essence I bring some Judaism to my mat. 
Thank you for the opportunity to express my views. For those that have not yet read Letters to a Buddhist Jew, as I did in Mussar, I highly recommend it!!
Sindy Warren:
Yoga eemphasizes being in the resent moment.  Learning to sit with the instant discomforts (of he body in asana practice and of the mind in meditation) and not reacting.  To create space betwween stimulus and reaction.  Orthodox Judaism, I think, places a huge emphasis on he future (ie, the World to Come).  Mussar, too, is forward looking and also focused on the post – what should we do in certain situations, looking to our ancestors (the mussar masters) for guidance.  Judaism has a unique way of blending the past with he present and he future – the holidays being representations not nly of our ast but of the present (and future) spiritual energy in the world.
Another interesting difference is the idea of doing or not doing, depending on the practice.  Judaism teaches through action.  Be generous, and you will become more generous.  Do first, then believe.  Yoga teaches the importance of non-action (to wit, the phrase “don’t just do something, sit there”).  

Sandy Gross:

The main difference (although I focus on the similarities mostly:)  is that Judaism is a dualistic religion.  Yoga, is non-dualistic.  G-d is everywhere including and especially in us.  Two quotes on the walks at the new Evolution:
“The sun shines not on us but in us.” John Muir
“My body is my first prop.”  BKS Iyengar
And, yoga is not a religion, it’s considered an (experiential) science.  The Latin root of the word “religion” is to “realign with your origin.” That word religion needs a new PR campaign.   I feel like I am religious then, if you define it that way:). Again, I’m trying!  
Karen Marocco:

Namaste: This is the most uncomfortable part of the yoga practice for me. Namaste is what many teachers and students say when ending a class. Often translated as the light in me honors the light in you (which I think is a beautiful sentiment.) However, literally namaste means “I bow to you.”  Even though people bow their heads as a gesture of respect and not worship I was always taught that you don’t bow to anyone but God. There have been Jews who have chosen death over bowing to another person. 
Sandy Gross (on bowing):
The bowing in Namaste, to me, in this non-dualistic path of yoga, means you’re technically bowing to yourself.  Your higher Self that you share with everyone else… Acknowledging that we are one.  That there really is no separation.  
I think I remember also hearing that the bowing is the representation of the physical, lower-cased self, with the higher Self or light/G-d, energy within that we all share.  
In the OM yoga tradition in which I was trained, we did not bow nor say Namaste. Sometimes I do, sometimes I don’t. 




Thoughts from the Facebook discussion:




Renee:  I think a mindful yoga practice is a lot like living the Kabbalah.  Technically if done properly, EVERYTHING one does is out f gratitude to G-d in both practices – so es, food choices are simple and prayers are offered; positive community; mind/body/spirit connection; ego not important; meditation several times a day…


Ariella:  To be “good” at both you’ve got to be committed. Both are complicated. 
Allison:  You’re always learning with both Judaism and yoga.
Chantal:  I’m very wary of bringing in the spiritual side of yoga as some of the origins really border on avoda zara (idolatry) if not outright… Tread carefully!
Dave:  They’re both misunderstood (and dismissed) by the ignorant…
Wendy:  Yoga is quieting the voices in your head, it is profoundly moving if you let it be, it’s about gratitude on a very deep level, a connection with yourself physically, emotionally and spiritually. Yoga is good for you. There is no doubt about it. 
What are your thoughts, OOTOB readers?  What’s your experience with yoga and/or religious Judaism?  Does yoga satisfy a spiritual or religious need for you?
(For an interesting related read, check out this article and especially the comments.)