Blog Link: Heeb'n'vegan

http://heebnvegan.blogspot.com/2009/12/use-of-animal-products-in-jewish-ritual.html

Interesting discussion about what it means to live a both vegan and Jewish life and the compromises one must consider.

Blog link: FrumSatire on wilderness

http://www.frumsatire.net/2006/12/01/wilderness-red-bull-for-the-soul/

Cleaning out the Chametz

Between Purim and Pesach, it is traditional to clean out the chametz from your home.  In the traditional sense, chametz is anything leavened and it's done in order to prepare for Pesach, when Jews are forbidden to possess leavening.

I'm not so traditional.  Plus, I share my home with a non-Jew, so I think that simply refraining from eating bread and the like is enough.  It is simply not practical to banish non-Passover foods from my kitchen.

But, inspired by a haggadah I read this weekend, I'm still cleaning out chametz.  In my case, it's all the extra stuff that I don't need, the stuff that I don't want, and the clutter that makes my life less enjoyable.  I spent a couple hours each of Saturday and Sunday, and since it's a 3-day weekend for me, today's the day for some heavy lifting.  My focus has been on my bedroom, and it already looks much better.  I'm getting excited to see my chametz-free room.

If...Then

No, I'm not talking about Jewish SAT questions.

For the past few months, the Rabbi's been presenting us sections from his dissertation on the Exodus and how it happened. He contends that it was not nearly as described. Today's segment focused mainly on geography, and then on wordplay. One of his key points is that when people tell stories, the geography is accurate, even if the story isn't. We all know that Juneau is far to the southeast of Denali, and we'd never describe it any other way. If the Israelites were living in Goshen...then where is that?

One of the first things he talked about was how ancient geographers described locations. Apparently, they were pretty consistent in the words they used and spacial relationships. This makes it especially interesting to uncover the fact that the Hebrew and Aramaic texts say they crossed the Yam Suf. In all other Hebrew and Aramaic texts, Yam Suf refers to what is now called the Gulf of Aqaba, which is on the other side of the Sinai Peninsula from the Red Sea. The first time the text refers to the Red Sea is when it was translated by the Septuagint, and for some reason it has stuck, even though it's inaccurate. This implies that the Israelites weren't necessarily in the Nile Delta. If they weren't in the Nile Delta...then where were they?

The Rabbi made a list of places referred to in the Exodus story, the "itinerary" sites. He then went through the Biblical texts to see how they're described, paying special attention to things like "blank is near blank", and then cross-referencing the known locations and putting them on a map. All of them are east of Egypt, most are northeast of the Sinai Peninsula...not in Egypt. There are records of Egyptians in some of these areas, but not so much about Pharaoh in these places. It's interesting, especially for a geography nerd like me. There's a lot that makes sense about it, because it does pull from the historical record. If we know that Goshen is near Egypt, and Midian is in Saudi Arabia...then what can we extrapolate from that?

Next came the wordplay section of the evening. The Rabbi started with having us read Exodus 1, in which we learn that Pharaoh has decided that the Israelites are "too numerous", so something must be done and in all his wisdom, the best idea he can come up with is slavery. That doesn't work, so Pharaoh decides to be extremely illogical and kill all the boys at birth. The Pharaoh is outsmarted by a couple of midwives, there are still too many Israelites, and Pharaoh decrees that all toddler boys must be killed. In the Biblical text, the Hebrew words for "increase" and "people" appear seven times. That's a significant number, and tends to mean that those words are important in some way. If they're significant...then what are they trying to say?

In another story, the wise Judean King Solomon enslaves the Israelite people in order to build a temple and a palace. He is cruel and the people rebel, and they are unsuccessful. Solomon dies and his son Rehoboam takes over. He is even more cruel, and the people rebel, led by a man named Jereboam. Any guesses what Jereboam means in Hebrew? If you guessed "the people increase"...then you'd be right.

There are more parallels between the Jereboam story and the Moses story. They both fled a leader whose rule they found tyrannical. They both returned after the leader died, confronted the new leader, and brought their people out of slavery. Apparently, their stories align on 14 points, even though I don't remember them right now. This is also a significant number and suggests more than a coincidence. If the two stories are linked...then what does that mean?

The Rabbi suggests that the Moses story is an allegory. Fiction. His theory is that it was written by the Judeans as the Jereboam events were happening as a way of protesting. This is why there's no archaeological evidence of the Israelites in Egypt in the time that the slavery was supposed to have happened. This is why the itinerary sites aren't in Egypt, but are in Moab, Judah, the Negev, the Jordan River valley, and the body of water they crossed was outside of Egypt's defended borders. If the Exodus from Egypt never happened...then what does that mean for Judaism?

It's a very good question. Of course, what the Rabbi did with the story was simply a literary analysis. 

The Judeans could simply have noticed the parallels between Jereboam and the oral tradition of Moses and wrote the story in such a way as to point them out. 

Since we are dealing with a story that survived orally for hundreds of years before it was ever written down, it could simply be a case of people forgetting or omitting some itinerary sites. This wouldn't explain the lack of archaeological evidence, though.

I don't care if it's allegory or if Moses just existed somewhere slightly different than Egypt. It's still my favorite story in the Bible.

I know my name

I will choose Miriam Tzipora.

I like that these names are associated with Moses and the stories of Exodus. I like that they appear in the parshiot that correspond with my birthday. I like that they are very clearly Biblical names, but they do not refer directly to G-d; they refer to nature. I like that they were both pretty amazing women, one a prophetess, the other the great woman behind a very special man.

I even like that they are opposites, in a few ways; Miriam had a problem with Moses's wife, who goes unnamed in that particular story, for being dark (and probably for taking up so much of his attention), so HaShem makes Miriam snow-white by afflicting her with leprosy for a week. They are also opposites in terms of background. Miriam was born an Israelite, the sister of Judaism's great leader and also of the first high priest. Tzipora, however, was not born into the tribe; she would have been a convert like me, from a different religious background (also with family ties to a high priest, being the daughter if the high priest of Midian).

I choose Miriam, partly because it is the name my mother suggested for me when I asked her. It was one of the names I asked her about and she liked the meanings behind it. She thought it fit me best. It's not completely clear what Miriam actually means.

In Egyptian, it could mean "beloved", which my mom thought was good, partly because when we watched the movie (based in the Toni Morrison novel), Beloved's mother tells her "you're my best thing", and my mom always thought the same of me.

In Hebrew, Miriam means "bitter water/sea", which almost sounds like a bad thing. But I've always loved being near the ocean, even though I don't love swimming. So a reference to water makes sense for me. To explain the bitter part, I like thinking about a Chinese idiomatic 

expression, "to eat bitter". This is how they would talk about perseverence. To me, that is very important, because that which is worthwhile is not always easy. It also seems to apply to the Biblical Miriam, because she was known for her kindness and generosity of spirit, even when she was going through difficult times personally.

That is something I asipre to and, I think, very worthy of a name.

I choose Tzipora, partly because it refers to my mother's pet name for me, in a way. Tzipora means "little bird", and as best I can tell, usually refers to a songbird. Mom liked to call my sister and I her "little chickadees". She doesn't say it about my sister as much anymore, but she still says it to me. Chickadees are very common birds in my hometown, and they used to congregate in our backyard to eat the tiny crabapples on our flowering crabapple tree. I also like Tzipora because I have always pictured her as dynamic, graceful and intuitive. Part of how I picture Tzipora is very dependent on how I perceive the relationsip between Moses and his wife, and therefore in how I understand marriage. Because Moses was clearly very special, I picture Tzipora being special, too. I think she was there to support Moses and help him find the courage to do what he needed to accimplish, whether it was dealing with his guilt after he killed the Egyptian, pulling himself together enough to confront Pharaoh, or constantly acting as a go-between with HaShem and the Israelites.She also showed that she understood what Moses taught her about HaShem and the covenants when she thought fast during the bridegroom of blood incident and saved Moses' life (or maybe Gershom's).

I think this is especially important to me and worthy of a name, because she, like myself, learned the mitzvot as an adult and took on the challenge of adapting to life with slightly new rules.

Try as I might, I couldn't decide between the two. Both names hold a great deal of meaning, both in Jewish culture and for me personally. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that I would never be able to pick just one. I think it is best to take them in combination 

and hope that I can live up to them.

Shabbat rest

This past Friday night, I surprised even myself by declaring that I was ready for Shabbay rest. Maybe the others were surprised because the previous day was Thanksgiving and most people didn't have to work. Me, I was surprised because I had never said that before.

I had been ready for the weekend. I had been glad it was Friday night. But I had never been glad for Shabbat itself.

Part of it may have been because I worked hard last week. It may have been because I was sick but feeling better. It was almost certainly because I had arrived at Carrie's home for another of her wonderful Shabbat meals.

But that was one of those wonderful moments when I really felt Jewish. On the drive to Carrie's, I realized that it was dark and technically Shabbat already, and I felt more relaxed. But once those candles were lit, I really started to feel it. Rest. Shabbat rest. A real, definitive separation between worktime and holy time.

It was beautiful.

I'm not going to lie, though. I did work only hours later, cleaning up after the party had subsided. But even that had a sense of peace about it, because it seemed a part of the dinner, a part of the evening, a part of Shabbat.

I hope I feel that again this week. And the week after that. And every week.

Meeting with the Rabbi

I had my meeting with the Rabbi today.  This time, I wasn't so very prepared.  I didn't feel like I'd been book-studying as much as I felt I should.  He asked me why, and I told him.  I've been enjoying my summer and going hiking and camping.  I told him about my Shabbat/havdallah set and how I always bring it with me on trips.  I told him that I've come to really appreciate Shabbat.  There have been a couple of times when I didn't light my candles for some reason, and the day just didn't feel right.  I talked about how, as I've integrated the rules for Shabbat into my practice, how the day has become such a pleasure.

I told him that I've been reading the book he lent me, and that it's really helping me to understand not only the meaning behind the words of the liturgy, but also how to let them inspire me.  The words themselves are something of a blank slate in terms of emotion, and the worshipper is free to use them to express his gratitude, fear, sadness, or even anger.  He can also use them to bring himself to a calm state.

Since I'm also working on reading another book, I told him about that one, too.  This was one of the ecology books that I'd found.  I told him who wrote it, and the group she is affiliated with.  He knew exactly who I was talking about, and was glad that I'd found it.  It was definitely a relief compared to the last conversation we had.  I talked about one of the essays I had read, about wandering and how it brings out something primal in people.  Since I've been watching a lot of The Dog Whisperer, I remembered that Cesar Millan had made a comment about what happens to dogs when they walk behind a pack leader, and how some of the points in the essay were somewhat similar to the ideas that Millan had talked about.

Naturally, this sparked some debate.  He asked me if I really believed that the Jews were following G-d around like a pack of dogs, and if that implied that we didn't really have a choice.  Of course not.  That's what makes us different from dogs.  The point was more that, in the wandering, we were forced to share a tight space, to learn how to work together for a common goal, and to accept our place in the group.  He kept poking holes in my analogy, which was fine.  It was never meant to be a perfect picture, just a way to understand a part of the story in a practical way.

We got in to talking about disagreements, and how religion can actually be a stumbling block to society.  This was at least partly because the Rabbi had been at a discussion group last night where they talked about a book that said, at least in part, that atheism might be an important key to world peace.  Which I do agree with.  I told him so, too.  I talked about how that's mentioned in the song "Imagine" more than once (Imagine there's no heaven...no hell below us...nothing to kill or die for, and no religion too).  Which, of course, leaves us....where?  What role (do I think) religion should have in society?

We talked about that for a while, actually.  I think he wanted to hear me talk about religion in a general sense, so as to figure out how much of my understanding is based on Christianity, and how much on Judaism.  I talked about how religion, when done correctly, should encourage people to live ethically, and the spirituality should be a pleasant side effect, and I did talk about how I found that in Judaism.  He talked about how this might not necessarily be true of Orthodox Judaism.  I had an answer for that one: I wasn't sitting in an Orthodox shul.  I had chosen Reform for a reason.

It was a good conversation.

Why?

A friend recently asked my why I choose to convert.  What follows was my answer to him.

I converted for a number of little tiny reasons, really.  I abandoned Christianity for a few big ones, though.  What it came down to was that I felt that the Christian community had become so fundamentalist and closed-minded that I could no longer agree with many of their teachings, and because of that disagreement, I could never fit in with that herd.  When I started studying on my own, I was drawn toward the beginning of the Bible, because I realized that I didn't actually know that much about the Jewish origins.  Most of it had been taught to me as a child, so I got a very cursory once-over of the major stories, and then the Old Testament was infrequently revisited only when necessary to prove a point.  These points were almost always exclusionary or an attempt to prove that Jesus was the Messiah.  

On my own, I learned that there was a lot of richness and wisdom that I'd never really known before.  I also discovered that Jesus hadn't really fulfilled all the prophesies.  With that, I was no longer afraid to abandon Christianity.  As far as I'm concerned, the Messiah must fulfill all the prophesies.  If a candidate does not, then he is no messiah.  Maybe Jesus was the son of God and all that, and maybe he is going to come back.  Maybe he'll be the Messiah then, when he finishes the job.  I don't know.  What I do believe is that the God of Judaism is similar to the God of Christianity.  I think that sometimes Jesus gets in the way of God.  I don't really know if I think of Jesus as a second god, a facet of God, or an idol.  I haven't figured that out yet.

What I do know is that I started noticing more references to Judaism within things that I liked.  I was interested in Biblical Archaeology, and the parts that I was really interested in were Hebrew Bible stories.  My favorite TV show happened to have a Jewish host.  A song that I liked was inspired by a Jewish story.  Eventually, I contacted a Rabbi and started studying with him, because there was only so much that I could teach myself.

Service 6-21-2008

My first Bar Mitzvah ritual.  It was really very beautiful.  I loved how it emphasized and continually reinforced his new role as a member of Jewish society.  The Aliyot started with his peers, and went to various family members, gradually getting closer to the Bar Mitzvah boy, until eventually his parents were called to the bimah on the sixth aliyah, and the Bar Mitzvah took the seventh and final.

It was amazing to watch how proud of him his parents were.  I loved that he made a couple of mistakes, but corrected himself pretty confidently.  That takes guts and maturity, which are qualities adults definitely need.  It was clear that he did a lot of studying and preparation, which are absolutely vital to adult life.  He did very well.  I'd be terrified to do what he did, even though I think that I want to.

I was also struck by the speeches his parents gave about him.  His father talked about how he's always been a very determined person, and reminded him that it will take him far in life.  His mother talked about the idea of tikkun olam and always keeping the goal of making the world a better place, reminding him that it was not only a Jewish value, but a family value as well.

These things reminded me of well, firstly, that I don't know how my parents would react at my Bat Mitzvah (if I have one).  But that's mostly because of the Jewish label.  If they just talked about who I was, and who I am, they would be likely to talk about how I've always been pretty driven, but I've always held the same values that I find in Judaism.

In fact, I've recently realized that my years as a Girl Scout have very much shaped how I live as an adult, and I don't just mean my love for hiking and cookies.  The Girl Scout Law that my mother taught me as a little girl is still pretty paramount.  It's also a good way to ensure tikkun olam, I think:

• -to be honest
  
• -to be fair
  
• -to help where I am needed
  
• -to be cheerful
  
• -to be friendly and considerate
  
• -to be a sister to every Girl Scout
  
• -to respect authority
  
• -to use resources wisely
  
• -to protect and improve the world around me
  
• -to show respect for myself and others through my words and actions

That's really all I want out of life.  Well, that and a religion I can put my faith in, and that gives me the framework to base my choices on.  A girl can't live by "be prepared" alone.

My Weekend: Hide and Seek

I stayed in a campground near a lake, with a really nice trail that goes around the lake.  There was also a trail that went about a quarter mile to a nearby Veterans' Memorial.

The first time I took that trail, it was on a whim.  I was walking the dog, and I figured it would be as good a place as any to spend some energy.  When I got there, I found that there had been significant improvements to the area.  The parks system had built a scenic outlook toward Denali. And not only that, but the mountain was visible, and it was stunning.  There were clouds on either side of the two peaks, and another nestled below, at about the level of the surrounding mountains.  It made Denali look all the more impressive and mysterious.  One of the other people at the outlook said it looked like a ghost, and I wouldn't disagree.  Another person gestured to the mountains flanking Denali and pointed out that, at more than 17,000 feet, they would be imposing anywhere else in the world, except next to that particular peak.  And it's true.  I found myself drawn to that outlook; the dog and I walked there several more times, each time hoping to see the mountain again.  We didn't get the chance; it was always hidden by clouds.

It made me think about how wonderful Shabbat time is, that I was able to just drop everything and go for a hike.  I realized that I had spent the bulk of my weekend seeking, whether I was seeking a view that few people are blessed to see, seeking a nice rock to rest on, or seeking G-d.

I also started reading a really great book called Ecology and the Jewish Spirit by Ellen Bernstein.  So far, I'm through the first section, which is a series of essays about Sacred Place.  One of them talks about how Shabbat is similar to being in the wilderness, because of the way you're freed from clock-based time, instead depending on the sun and stars to tell you when to light your candles.  The big difference is that Shabbat ends with havdallah, but that there is no ritual to end your time in the wilderness.  The author of that essay (whose name escapes me now) said that's why s/he often feels sad when returning to normal life, which is pretty true.

I also realized that I've always had a ritual for ending my outdoor time.  A shower.  But not just any shower.  One that delights in the luxury of warm, running water and the feel of it on my skin.  One with a soap that's different from the one I used at camp, one that smells fresh and clean.  When I thought about it in my post-camping shower this time, I realized how similar it is to the havdallah ritual in its use of my senses, especially the smelling and the warmth.

Meeting with the Rabbi

I met with the Rabbi today, for my consultation in lieu of classes.  We talked about the progress I was making with the Hebrew.  I think he thinks I'm learning quickly.  He gave me a chance to ask any questions that I had, and I didn't have too many yet.  There were some words in the book that I was working with that I didn't think I was reading correctly, so he helped me out.  The words didn't sound like Hebrew in my mouth.  One of my mistakes was that I had confused two letters.  You're never going to say the word correctly if you have the wrong letters.  So that was an easy fix, really.  I didn't know how to pronounce a particular vowel combination, so he helped me with that.  He also showed me an ending that was going to mess me up pretty good, because it involved a silent letter that wouldn't usually be silent.

Then we talked about why I'm interested in Judaism and its relationship to ecology.  I think he was scared that I was going too new age with it.  Its not that at all, really.  I think that some of the people who write about that area are doing it with a new agey perspective, but those ideas aren't intriguing in a satisfying way.  I mean, it's great to consider the patience of a rock, but ultimately, the imagery fails because patience requires free will or at least some kind of choice.  The Rabbi suggested that I try looking at a few scholars he was aware of, and I promised that I would.

For me, the nexus of G-d and nature is valuable.  I think that nature forces you to be in the moment.  When you appreciate the beauty of the mountains around you, your mind is drawn to the Creator of those mountains; in that moment that takes your breath away, you find G-d.  You need to have that same sense of awe when you light the shabbat candles.  When you're hiking, you're looking out for bears that might eat you and roots you might trip on.  You're not thinking about your laundry or your bills.  This is the same mindset you should have when you pray or study Torah.

Since I know a lot more about nature than I do about G-d, it seems like a good way in.  A way to teach my mind to focus on G-d and push the distractions to the side.  Surely there have been writers, in the past 5000 or so years who have written things that can help me with that.  I just wish that I had been better able to explain all of this to the Rabbi.  I got about halfway there.  When I leave his office, I always think of that genius thing I should have said, because I walk away thinking about the questions he asked and why I was unsatisfied with my own answers.

Informed Choices

Some people think that Reform Judaism disregards halacha and that its members pick and choose their mitzvot.

I think it's more about making informed choices about your practice.  For me, the relative non-emphasis on keeping all 613 commandments has given me the freedom to incorporate them thoughtfully into my life.  Every change that I've made in my life so far has been purposefully done.  Because I have embraced each as a choice, I do them joyfully and as an act of free will.

If they had all been thrust upon me, and if I were going to be judged by how well I performed them, it all would have been rote and mechanical.  I would not have had the luxury of time to understand why G-d wants what He wants, why it's done a certain way, or what lesson I should learn by doing it.

Since G-d went to the trouble of granting us free will, He wants us to make our own decisions.  Granted, He has also prescribed us a way of living which pleases Him the most.  It is our job to reconcile the two, both by learning and by doing.

It's not necessarily that you're making informed decisions about what mitzvot to ignore, rather, it's about ensuring that there is knowledge and intention behind the action.

In services on Saturday, the Haftarah was from the book of Joshua.  It wasn't a very happy passage.  My Rabbi talked about how, at the time Joshua was writing, Jerusalem was under siege.  Theology based on divine retribution was difficult to comprehend in a world where innocents - women and children - were starving and dying in the streets.  He also said that in the Talmud, the Rabbis wrote, in an imaginary dialogue, that G-d said if the Israelites had just done the covenant, even if they forsook Him, He would have saved the city.

He said there is a lot of controversy on this point.  According to him, Orthodox rabbis don't much like it when he brings it up.  I honestly don't understand this yet.  It would seem that the Orthodoxes, with their emphasis on halacha and mitzvot would support the idea of a 

G-d who says that doing is more important than faith, and that by doing your faith should grow.  Conversely, I would expect a Reform rabbi to say that believing should be put first, and trust that it would lead to doing.  I'll have to ask about it at our next meeting.

I'm still in the learning phase right now.  I know I'm not ideally observant, but I also know that my learning is going well and that so far I've been consistent in applying lessons into lifestyle.  I started with faith.  I'm trying not to intentionally or knowingly break halacha.  It may happen recklessly or unknowingly at this point, though, and for that I'm sorry.  All I can do is my best.

Blog Link: Paying Attention to Detail

From Radical Torah: Paying Attention to Detail

I'm at a point in my studies in which my Rabbi is allowing me to direct my own curriculum, for the most part.  At the moment, we're focusing on learning to read and understand Hebrew, and liturgy.

So I've been reading a lot of blogs lately, trying to find out what other Jews are talking about on the topic of prayer and ritual (its also much less dry than reading the siddur).  I liked this article, because it explains one of my biggest questions right now: why is Judaism so darned complicated?

And I love its basic answer: so one must continue learning.

This article is focused on the brachot related to eating various types of foods, but that simple premise applies to much of Judaism, I think.

Blog Link: Sustainable Judaism

From Radical Torah: The Questions We Must Ask

I found this really interesting.  One of the areas that I'm studying is Judaism and ecology.  I came across this blog entry, and it definitely made me think.  We usually use the word "sustainable" in terms of green living.  Here, that philosophy is applied to spirituality.

It's actually a really strong metaphor.  There are people who go to pretty extreme lengths to make environmentally ethical decisions.  They buy specific products, avoid certain activities, and are conscious of their impact on the planet.

These are wonderful things to do, and I do them to the best of my ability (and budget).

I think religious devotion deserves those same standards.  The Torah asks that of us.  

It also asks us to be ethical stewards of the earth.

This just happens to dovetail nicely.  Torah certainly is a tree of life.

News Link: New Einstein letter about religion found

This is one of those stories you just have to comment on. I found it at news.yahoo.com, but it will fall off their servers in a couple of weeks. I printed it to an image and attached it to this posting.

I've always been a bit fascinated by Einstein and his stance on religion. There was so much room for contradiction.

You have a man who was incredibly logical and yet very imaginative. He was raised a Jew, but lived during a time where even God himself seemed to forget about the covenant. It's sometimes hard for people now to figure out how to keep their faith in the face of scientific discoveries. It must have been even harder when that struggle was compounded by the Shoah.

I wouldn't blame Einstein a bit for thinking that belief in God is childish. It certainly must have seemed futile in his mind, given the events of his time.

Even though certain Einstein quotes about religion (especially "science without religion is lame; religion without science is blind") have
been cited as proof that a man of faith can also be a man of science, this new information says Einstein wasn't an example of that phenomenon. And that's a fine thing.

Einstein was, after all, only a man. He left us an amazing legacy: the theory of relativity, as well as a face to the very personal struggle between faith and reason.

I still find the quotes inspirational. They aren't an answer; they are more of a trailhead for your own journey toward truth and understanding. You can agree or disagree with his statements, use them to raise your own questions, and ultimately, come to your own conclusions, just as Einstein did.

Previously, people would bolster their arguments with something along the lines of, "Science not only purifies the religious impulse of the dross of its anthropomorphism but also contributes to a religious spiritualization of our understanding of life." That might still be valid, but Einstein would probably end it with this: "I am by heritage a Jew, by citizenship a Swiss, and by makeup a human being, and only a human being, without any special attachment to any state or national entity whatsoever."

As I read through Einstein quotes to choose a few for this article, I realized that my favorites have nothing to do with religion or science. They are merely observations about life:
"Falling in love is not at all the most stupid thing that people do — but gravitation cannot be held responsible for it."
"I am enough of an artist to draw freely upon my imagination. Imagination is more important than knowledge. For knowledge is limited, whereas imagination embraces the entire world, stimulating progress, giving birth to evolution."

Interesting.

Service 2-23-2008

Today's Torah portion covered the Golden Calf Incident.

The discussion didn't center on idolotry, though, which was pretty cool.  Instead, we talked about God's discussion with Moses.  I hadn't really ever noticed that Moses found out about the idol from God, while he was still up on Mt. Sinai.  

The Rabbi pointed out that the way it was phrased (...what YOUR PEOPLE have done...) was a lot like how spouses argue.  The relationship between Moses and God was that personal, familiar, and passionate.  It's a powerful picture.

What comes next is equally revealing:  God tells Moses to go away and deal with the people, because God is so very angry that he needs to be alone, because all he wants to do is destroy the Hebrews.  Incredibly, Moses is the one to calm him down.  Moses points out that God had just brought the people out of Egypt, and that it wouldn't make sense to kill them now, because what would the Egyptians think?  God agrees to give them another chance, the Hebrews live on, and God...apologizes.

This brings up a terrifically interesting issue: if God did something that requires an apology, then does that mean he can make mistakes?  The Rabbi says that there are midrashim that say, yes, God is falliable.  And since God isn't perfect, he likewise does not expect perfection from us.  What he wants is for us to follow the laws as best we can, and admit when we've done wrong.  

It's beautifully freeing, especially for me, being a perfectionist...from a Christian tradition that always felt like it demanded absolute perfection in order to be worthy.  I know I'm not the only one who felt that way; when I was in high school, there was a huge problem with eating disorders among the high school youth group.

Service 2-16-2008

We talked about the menorah which God commanded the Hebrews to make on Mt. Sinai.

It was supposed to be put on display outside the meeting tent.  That's interesting, because you'd expect a holy object to be kept safely inside.  It was also supposed to be built to a very specific design, and probably looked a lot like a gold tree.  A 100 pound gold tree.

The Rabbi wasn't there, but the lovely woman who was leading the discussion asked us to consider what that might symbolize.  We talked about the light and warmth, and how that would be a natural gathering place for the community.

She also asked us to consider what the significance of the light might be.  She brought a whole bunch of texts for us to read in order to give us ideas.  We talked about how Torah is meant to be a light unto our lives.  We talked about how fire keeps animals away, which would be a very practical thing.  I thought about how the appearance of the menorah was similar to that of a tree...and trees are like bushes...and this one was on fire...like burning...as in the burning bush, which would have been a relatively recent event.  It would have made God seem like he was very nearby, and might even speak again.

Blog Link: Faithhacker

From Faithhacker:

A post on the Bal Shem Tov.  The blogger tells a story about the Bal Shem Tov and a couple preparing to get married at an inn.  It's a great example of how mundane actions can become beautiful opportunities for Tikkun Olam (making the world a better place).

Conversion Class

Today we talked about how Judaism represented a very different way of thinking about theology.

In Babylonia, they built ziggurats, which were kind of like step pyramids.  They had a house on top, which was also a temple.  The god lived in that house, and was often physically present in the form of an idol.  If you managed to destroy the temple, then you destroyed the god's home.  If the god was in the temple and you destroyed that, then your god was clearly stronger and more powerful than that one.

Judaism, however, did something a bit different.  Their temple was a place for God to be when he is on earth, but there was no image of him there.  His name was simply written on the wall.  If you destroyed that temple, then you simply wiped his name away, but you didn't destroy God.  This innovation also allowed God to be present in more than one place at the same time.  The Rabbi describes it as an intentional correction in theology that came in the book of Deuteronomy, with the quote "I will show you a place where my name shall dwell".  Not I.  Just the name.

There were also some technical terms:

Polytheism: a relationship with multiple gods.

Monotheism: only one god exists, and any others are not real.

Monolatrism: a relationship with only one god, but recognition that others exist.

Polytheism was the standard prior to Abraham discovering that you could worship only one God and still be fine.  This is often thought of as monotheism but according to what the Rabbi taught us today, that's somewhat of a misconception.

Judaism started out as monolatrism, recognizing that there are other gods, but that they are not as powerful or special as the God of Abraham.  Monotheism appears in the Biblical text in Isaiah, which was written after the Babylonian exile.

Ideal Student

I found this in The Book of Jewish Practice, whose author says that it's from Ethics of the Fathers.  It's a list of the 48 qualities which make an ideal student:

• mouthing the words of the text
• pronouncing these distinctly
• understanding the text and using discernment
• studying in a spirit of awe, reverence, humility and good cheer
• ministering to the wise
• having good fellow students
• arguing with students
• serenity of mind
• having a knowledge of Scripture and Mishnah
• engaging in moderation in business, in worldly matters, in pleasures, in sleep, in conversation, in laughter
• having patience
• being good-natured
• having confidence in the wise
• tolerating one's suffering
• recognizing one's place
• rejoicing in one's lot
• caution in speech
• claiming no credit for achievement
• being a lovable person
• loving God and all His creatures
• loving righteousness
• straight dealing and rebuke
• keeping aloof from fame
• having no pride in one's learning
• having no personal pleasure in rendering decisions
• bearing the yoke with one's companions and judging them favorably and helping them in their pursuit of truth and peace
• being composed in study
• asking questions and attempting to provide solutions
• listening and then adding to the information imparted
• studying in order to teach and to practice
• making one's teacher wise
• attending carefully to what he says
• repeating a teaching in the name of its author, giving the author the credit that is due

I think that a lot of these are very valuable, and most are qualities that I hope to possess.