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Uncategorized September 10, 2012

Judaism v. Twitter

Is Judaism twitterable?

I’ll confess: I briefly joined twitter way back when I started my blog, because “everyone” said that bloggers “have to” be on twitter.

It was awful. The relationship ended very quickly.

This might completely be due to my inadequacies, and I’m delighted to own that. But I wonder if there’s more. One of the things that freaked me out about twitter was that when you tweet a link, it’s in truncated code. You can’t tell until you click what website it’s coming from. It’s like going down a dark tunnel with your eyes closed.

Also: since you can’t monitor who has access to comment on your output (not that Facebook is foolproof here, but the gates are somewhat more manageable), anyone who vehemently disagrees with your general approach to life is eligible to argue you down every time you tweet (who has time for these things?).

And the space limitations means that you have to pare down, pare down, and pare down your message once again to fit the space. That’s not terrible, but if someone wants to respond to you and actually have a conversation, your defense/response is severely limited.

Finally, all of twitter is in code, for a newbie (yes, an apt metaphor for newbies in Orthodox environments; I am not oblivious to the irony). It’s like going to a wedding where you don’t know anyone and they’re all speaking a foreign language. There are #hashtags and RT@ all over the place. #goodluckwiththatstupid.

I departed quickly with my tail between my legs, feeling like a blogging failure. I went running back to Facebook and cried myself to sleep at home where everyone knows me and likes me. It was a dark time. (Kidding, sort of.)

But then I read an interesting article that got me thinking: maybe it’s not that I personally was a failure at twitter, although that’s certainly possible, but also/instead that depth in Judaism and twitter are simply incompatible partners.

To my first point, in Judaism it matters deeply what the source is. Travels down dark tunnels are not recommended. Learn from a teacher, but first learn about your teacher.

Second, Judaism is both accessible to all (Torah was given in a desert, teaches the midrash, to indicate that it belongs equally to everyone and no one) and not completely readily accessible. The student must try to find it; exert effort; discover a teacher; and schvitz it out a bit. Even putting this kind of information on the web for all to see opens it up to ridicule and worse by those that are disinterested and hostile to its message. Good or bad? You be the judge.

But it was the forced terseness that ultimately ended the relationship. I NEED the time, the space, to fully explain, with compassion and nuance, what my message is. Otherwise, I’ve learned, it’s better to remain silent. A half message is worse than no message.

And the code was just kind of inhospitable.

But maybe I’m just sensitive.

Anyway. Here I am. Blogging, with Facebook as my friend. I come in peace, as my 11-year-old says. Those that are open to my message or are searching for depth and understanding, here I am. Those that are opposed or hostile, shalom unto you. And those that have questions, by all means. I have all day, and all the space in the world.

Tweet that.

Uncategorized August 19, 2012

Hi, I’m a Gentile

Jews: .18% of world population (that’s POINT 18%)
Blacks: 8% of world population
Hindus: 15% of world population
Muslims: 29% of world population
Christians: 32% of world population
Asians: 60% of world population

Of all these groupings, none of them (that I can think of) has a word to classify anyone who is NOT that class. There is no word in the English language that means “anyone who is not black”; “anyone who is not Christian”; et cetera.

Yet, the smallest, most minuscule grouping, Jews, yields a word that is universally accepted to mean “anyone who is not a Jew.” Even though that grouping includes 99.82% of the world and includes the most racially, ethnically, and religiously diverse group there is. The one and only thing everyone in the group has in common, is that he or she is not a Jew.

Does this make any sense to you??

More.

Personally, I don’t use the word Gentile in my common parlance. I feel that perhaps it would be perceived as somehow exclusionist or elitist and instead employ the more neutral term, “non-Jew.” Most Jews that I know also prefer the softer term.

But.

Most non-Jews that I know, when telling me that they are not Jewish, seem to be more likely to use the term “Gentile” than Jews.

Hmm.

The term “Gentile” seems to have originally derived from the Hebrew “goy.” The Hebrew word “goy” means “nation,” and is used many times throughout Torah scripture, never derogatorily. Sometimes it refers to the Jewish nation and sometimes it refers to the other nations, usually in the context of exhorting the Jewish people to resist the pulls of assimilation and intermarriage and to remain true to its heritage.

Somehow, the term evolved into its common usage, ostensibly by those very non-Jews. So why did everyone buy into this term? Do non-Jews feel that “everyone who is not Jewish” somehow shares a common bond? More than “everyone who is not black”? More than “everyone who is not Christian”?

Still scratching my head.

Thoughts?

Uncategorized August 6, 2012

The Precariousness of Jewish Education

“We were always surrounded by books, there was always a high caliber of discussion at the dinner table.” He said his father, a Lithuanian Jew who was first in his class at Harvard, approached things “with great intellect and great curiosity.”

Rome’s family name is notarikon, or Hebrew acrostic, for Rosh Mativta, or “Head of the Yeshiva.” “Supposedly we’re descended from the Gaon of Vilna on my father’s side.” Elijah ben Solomon Zalman, the Gaon – or “eminence” – of Vilna was an outstanding eighteenth-century Lithuanian rabbi and one of the staunchest Orthodox opponents of the Hasidic movement. So David Rome could claim very serious yichus – Jewish lineage.

He was bar mitzvahed in White Plains, New York, and attended a Hebrew high school run by the Jewish Theological Seminary. But despite this rich Jewish background, he turned to Buddhism after college.

“I wasn’t really looking. It just happened. Hitchhiking in Europe with an old friend from high school who had an interest in Eastern religions. He dragged me along to Samye-ling, the meditation center in Scotland that Trungpa Rinpoche had started. That was in 1971. There I experienced meditation for the first time.”

Rome found in meditation “a sense that something was right – just very much intuition.” Powerful too was “the quality of discipline in Buddhism,” which gave “a way of working with yourself, a way of what Rinpoche called making friends with yourself. There was a path… you could actually have this commitment and work with it, work on it and progress, explore, go deeper, clarify.”

The Jew in the Lotus, Rodger Kamenetz

As an Orthodox Jew perusing these lines, and the many other lines of first-person accounts of bright, capable, active and affiliated Jews abandoning their Judaism for eastern religions, or synthesizing the two, my overriding emotion is regret.

The Jewish experience I grew up with contained many of the ingredients David and his fellow Jubus (Jewish-Buddhists) didn’t even know they were missing until they found them in Buddhism.

A sense that something was right? I felt it every time we learned something that just made so much sense. Every time my family sat down to a Shabbos dinner. Every time I attended a chuppah ceremony at a Jewish wedding.

Quality of discipline? Every time I went clothes shopping. Every time I refrained from breaking Shabbat. Every time I bypassed heavenly-smelling food at the mall food court.

A way of working with yourself? Every time we were called to introspection, whether before Rosh Hashanah, after a tragedy, or in honor of a happy occasion.

A path? A commitment? The word “halacha,” Jewish law, actually means “a way of walking,” or a path, if you will. It is both a path, a way to navigate life, and, yes, a commitment. What characterizes fealty to halacha in Orthodox Judaism is that commitment: it cannot be broken, unless halacha itself permits it.

Go deeper? Clarify? Oh my gosh, are you kidding? This theme probably emerged in every Torah lecture I’ve ever attended. Keep growing, keep striving, never stagnate.

Here’s the problem: youth, and thus youth education, is largely wasted on the young. I know there are Orthodox Jews reading these lines who will be like “where was all that in my schooling”? And I’d like to tell you that it was there. I’m sure of it. But in elementary school and high school and even post-high-school, we are often immature, watching the clock, passing notes (or texting in class – I clearly have been out of school for awhile), paying very close attention to our rumbling tummies, or catching up on homework. Everything but Paying Attention.

If we could, as adults, go back and receive that education, as newly motivated learners, I wonder what might happen.

One of my kids was at summer camp this year, and a friend of mine was giving a Torah class. My child was very enthused, and told the lecturer how much it was enjoyed. My friend asked my child, “Haven’t you ever heard these ideas?” My child replied, no, not really, school’s not really like that, blah blah blah.

But I taught in my kids’ school. I know the teachers personally. I know what and how they teach. They ARE giving over these ideas. I think the problem is that my child isn’t listening. My child is probably thinking about what to wear tomorrow and what’s for dinner.

When we lose our youth to other religions, we have to ask ourselves: what do those religions offer that ours doesn’t? If the answer, indeed, is “nothing,” that’s the saddest of all. Because that means the education, the beauty, the depth, is not traveling all the way, that long, long, journey, into the ears and hearts of our children. In no way do I believe the transmission is broken. I believe that the children are simply immature. We must continue to educate our children – one day, hopefully, the ideas will sink in. But most importantly, as adults, we have to find and avail ourselves of that depth, that beauty, that path, that commitment, that call to action, to introspection, that way of working with yourself, that discipline, and most of all, that sense that, indeed, something is very, very right.

Uncategorized July 31, 2012

Poll: When I See an Orthodox Person, I Feel _____

Finish this sentence:

When I see an Orthodox person, whether in real life or in the media, I immediately feel:

1. Defensive

2. Like family

3. Judged

4. Judgmental

5. Curious

6. Respectful

7. Embarrassed

8. Admiring

9. Irritated

10. Like proving I am Jewish too

(feel free to choose more than one response)

Interviews, Uncategorized July 23, 2012

Meet Libby, my Chassidic Friend: an Interview

I’d like to introduce you to my new friend, Libby S. Libby is a woman, a mother, and wife. She belongs to the Vizhnitz group of Chassidus [Hasidism]. Libby has agreed to open her private life to all of you, in the hopes of helping me reach my goal on this blog: Jewish unity via mutual respect and education. I am really grateful to her for this, and look forward to having you all learn from her life.

Please note that English is not Libby’s first language. Yiddish is her first language. I have added some translations and clarifications in brackets.

Uncategorized July 8, 2012

You Have the Right To Remain Wrong

A conversation from my recent post “Saturday Joggers“:

Anonymous: A few Shabbosim [Ed: Shabbats] ago I was thrown off when I passed a lady doing
gardening work and wished her a “good morning” and she responded with an
enthusiastic “Good Shabbos!”

[I thought, God,]…here is a woman who is
gardening on Shabbos because she doesn’t know any better and yet she is
obviously so very proud to be Jewish and to let me know she is Jewish!
How great are Your people!

Miriambyk: As an O Jew with non-observant
friends and family, I would like to suggest a modest reframe to
Anonymous above. Can we learn to respect the possibility that the
Jewish neighbor is gardening on Shabbat not because she “doesn’t know
better” but perhaps because to her tending to a garden is part of
celebrating Gd’s universe, changing her routine, or relaxing, and
therefore a CHOICE of how to spend Shabbat? No, it is not halachic, but
does it really diminish my halachic observance if I acknowledge someone
else’s right to choose to observe differently?

Me: Miriam, while I think that the
percentage of Jewish gardeners/joggers on Shabbat who have made that
calculation is quite tiny, I think you hit on something extraordinarily
important that I think about all the time:

Does it really diminish my halachic observance if I acknowledge someone else’s right to choose to observe differently?

This
is the crux of this whole blog. Me acknowledging that everyone has
free will to act and believe as they choose, even if I privately
“believe” or “know” or whatever you want to call it (I choose to say
believe because it’s less confrontational) that it’s not halachically
correct, is not problematic. That’s because God gave us all free will
in the first place. It’s built in to Torah philosophy.

Some
people are scared that this smacks of pluralism. I disagree. Pluralism
means there are many correct ways (or even all ways have validity).
Free will means everyone has a right to do what I think is incorrect.

Anonymous [I believe the same original Anonymous]: Ruchi, how do you consider
someone’s actions to be “incorrect” and still not judge them? When I see
someone whose actions are often incorrect, according to my assessment, I
will either judge them or pity them. I’m thinking of people who parent
poorly, are unethical, irresponsible, etc. So why would we not judge or
pity someone who we thought was constantly doing wrong things on
shabbos?

And I promised a post dedicated to just that.

Recently, a friend of mine posted the following question on Facebook:

“Poll: Can you/should you separate a person from his actions/beliefs? For example, can you like and/or respect someone whose beliefs and/or actions you find abhorrent? Not ILLEGAL, like a murderer, but, say, [someone] whose religious beliefs or lifestyle are radically different from yours?”

I was astonished at the question. I do that all the time! It’s my breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I couldn’t possibly interact with the world if I didn’t, regularly, judge behaviors without judging humans. One of the very clear values I was raised with was “knowing right from wrong.” I knew how to say that before I even understood what the words meant.

I feel, strongly, that every person, and especially parents (and aren’t we our own parents?) must regularly, consciously, and purposefully engage in judgment. Before your tear your hair out and delete me from your feed, read on.

Judge values. Judge ideologies. Judge actions. Judge character traits. Judge behaviors. Judge systems.

They’re either admirable, deplorable, or somewhere on the spectrum.

But never, ever judge people. Because they’re either: making a mistake; never learned that value; have chosen something else, erroneously thinking it valid; are right and you’re wrong; have come a long way unbeknownst to you; already regret it and are planning a redo; have an equally valid but foreign method of achieving an admirable goal; or you totally read the interaction wrong to begin with.

In Judaism, there is a mitzvah to do all this mental gymnastic gyration: “Give each person the benefit of the doubt.”

Observation: the less intensely a person is invested in their Judaism, the easier they find it not to judge those that are less observant. But the harder they find it to judge right from wrong. I say this not as a judgment (heh) but as a personal experience. Very often, people ask me for advice on matters of right and wrong. When I supply what I know from Torah wisdom, they are so grateful, and amazed that such clear demarcations exist.

And the more intensely a person is invested in their Judaism, the harder they find it not to judge those that are less observant, but the easier they find it to judge right from wrong.

(Other observation: the injunction to not judge humans applies equally to those more religious, and to those less religious. But I speak here not solely of judgment in religious living, but in parenting, eating, health, emotional savviness, and interpersonal intelligence.)

Note: it doesn’t say you must give every IDEOLOGY the benefit of the doubt.

And that has made all the difference.

So how do you know who’s really right? If there is, indeed, a right and wrong? Fortunately, I don’t worry about that. Because I feel that in my life I have done my due diligence in examining the world to the best of my knowledge and trying to make the most educated and objective decisions as far as living my values. If I’m wrong, I believe that God will understand and love me anyway, since I’m doing my personal best. If I’m right and others are wrong, I believe God understands what their personal best is, in a way that they themselves aren’t even aware of. And where we’re both right… we’ll party together in the shared joy that we haven’t lost our humanity in the struggle of figuring it out.

Agree? Disagree? Impossible tightrope?

Uncategorized July 4, 2012

JAPs, Jewish Mothers, and Epiphanies at Hallmark

Of course, I always knew what a JAP was. She was tall, beautiful. She lived in New York. Maybe New Jersey. She had a closet full of designer clothing and accessories that had always been casually purchased just this year. Her parents redid her room, oh, every so breezy now and then with custom built-ins. She knew what was in before anyone else did; in fact, it seemed that she created trend by virtue of oh-so-nonchalantly wearing it.

Here’s what I didn’t know: she had a nose job. And maybe some other, er, “work.” She was bratty. Hard to live with. Uncaring of first-world problems, let alone any other kind. She threw tantrums well past the age of two.

Here’s what else I didn’t know. Her father was short and balding. Nebbish. Neurotic. Attached to his mother. Had a bizarre, schmalty sense of humor. Couldn’t say no to her if he tried. Her mother? More complicated than years of therapy could fix. Overpowering. Guilt-inducing. Helicoptering to the most severe degree. Had apron strings that made Alcatraz look chilled. Embarrassingly loud and flamboyant.

See, I hadn’t ever met these people. No one ever told me they existed. Until Hallmark.

My friends and I used to frequent the mall that was practically in my backyard pretty much each Sunday afternoon. With our hard-earned babysitting money, we’d shop or just browse. At Hallmark, my young teen self came across an intriguing book: “The Big Book of Jewish Humor.” Or something like that. I figured it would be full of plays-on-words with Hebrew or jokes about latkes. Alas, I was about to meet My Big Fat Neurotic Jewish Family.

Jokes upon jokes that I didn’t get about Jewish mothers, guilt, nebbish men, and JAPs. I had no idea who these people were. Were they my people? Where did they live? Where were they hiding? How come everyone seemed to know about them besides me?

Was it about growing up Orthodox and pretty much shielded from much of the media? Is there some kind of inversely proportional relationship between growing up amid rich spiritual Judaism and extensive education, and knowledge or identification with classic modern Jewish stereotypes?

My friend Dr. Samantha Baskind authored a fascinating piece on “The Fockerized Jew” – an analysis of the “coolness” of Jews in the media as a fairly recent occurrence, based on the offerings of Woody Allen, Barbara Streisand, Seinfeld, and most recently, the Fockers. I read the extensive essay with fascination, not just because she is a brilliant writer, but because, well, I never knew Jews were uncool in the first place.

Woody Allen? Classic Jew? Are you kidding??

Did you identify with these Jewish stereotypes? Did they align with real-world Jews you knew?

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Hi! I'm Ruchi Koval. I'm the co-founder and director of Congregation JFX, an innovative community in Cleveland, Ohio. I'm a certified relationship coach, motivational speaker, musician, and author. My two books, "Conversations with G-d" and "Soul Construction" are available on the "Books" tab. One of my passions is Jewish wisdom. This blog is a way for us to connect with education, respect, and understanding. If you're looking for a speaker, or are interested in 1:1 relationship coaching, connect with me via the icons in the upper right hand corner, or email me at outoftheorthobox@gmail.com