blog

This is not a time for productivity. Not yet

April 4, 2020 by • Rabbi's Writings • Tags: , , , , • 3 Comments

Tonight I want to pass on some words from Rabbi Susan P. Fendrick.  These are for everybody who needs them, and especially for women of any age, and especially for millennials of any gender, and especially for Jewish educators and cantors  and rabbis:

You are allowed to have a shvach seder.

And by shvach, I mean the Yiddish word for mediocre, underwhelming, unremarkable, or even kind of pathetic.

You do not need to set up a multi-media, multi-layered presentation on Zoom. You do not need to cook 17 dishes that remind you of all the family members you are not gathering with. You do not need to do all the cool things that people are suggesting for small seders. You do not need to go out on your mirpeset/porch at 11 pm and sing Chad Gadya with your neighbors. You do not need to compile an “in these times”-themed haggadah or seder supplement.

You are living through an international pandemic. For all of the support you have, for all of the jokes people are making, for all of the new Torah that is being learned…you are experiencing a collective trauma as an individual, within the daled amot – the delimited space – of your own home and your own life. You may be managing others’ experience of that trauma. You are dealing with challenges you have never faced before. You may feel scared, angry, depressed, or lost.

If you want to and can do any of the above for a maximalist seder night, great. But if you don’t want to and/or can’t, it is totally fine to cook a modest meal, throw together a seder plate at the last minute, get up to make salt water when it’s time for karpas because you forgot to do it before, make decisions on the fly…

You do not need to make up for the seder you are not having, or the seder you wish you could have. Do this year’s seder(s) however that works for you this year.

This is important not just for seder. You are living through a crisis.  You and your family and everybody around you are experiencing trauma and grief  (whether it feels like grief or not, there are so many losses right now, from loss of playdates to loss of control to loss of freedom of movement to loss of life). This is not a time to worry about “productivity” or “academic success” or even necessarily “a socially distant meaningful, memorable Passover.”   Not yet.  As Professor Aisha Ahmad writes,

…ignore everyone who is posting productivity porn on social media right now. It is OK that you keep waking up at 3 a.m. It is OK that you forgot to eat lunch and cannot do a Zoom yoga class. … Know that you are not failing.  

(That means you too, my clergy colleagues!)

Right now is the time to ensure your physical safety, strengthen your community safety networks, and slowly get used to changed circumstances. (Professor Ahmad again.)  Turn off the news. Did I say that loudly enough? Turn off the news. Go outside and garden if you have access to land. Turn off the news. Get off Facebook.  Put on your mask and go outside and pull weeds, find flowers, watch the clouds, find the moon as it approaches full.  

Stop worrying about what people with power and money are doing; you can’t do anything about them right now. Truth: Crooks and monarchs and business tycoons have always done what they are doing now.   We have survived them, like we survived Pharaoh.   200 years ago we would have had no idea what they were doing anyway, so pretend you have no idea and take care of what is in your grasp:  Check on someone who has no one.  Keep yourself and your loved ones safe. Pay attention to the people who speak truth and compassion.  Offer a listening ear — you’ll both feel better.  And by all means, have a shvach seder. 

May you have a zissen Pesach/a sweet Passover, whatever it is like.  

This year we are enslaved, next year let us be freer people.  

This year we are here … and here …and here…  Next year in the same room!

 

P.S.  What I have said here, and have been saying for days, is strongly shaped by Professor Aisha Ahmad’s essay “Why You Should Ignore All That Coronavirus-Inspired Productivity Pressure.”  She writes:  

I am just a human, struggling like everyone else to adjust to the pandemic. However, I have worked and lived under conditions of war, violent conflict, poverty, and disaster in many places around the world. I have experienced food shortages and disease outbreaks, as well as long periods of social isolation, restricted movement, and confinement.

So I listen to her.  And I hope you will listen too.  

 

Old foods, new symbolic meanings on the Seder plate

April 2, 2020 by • Rabbi's Writings • Tags: , , , , • 1 Comment

Some people are asking what to add to the seder plate this year. There are many creative answers. For myself, I think we already have all the symbols we need:

Matzah: Represents both being unprepared and responding creatively to novel situations. Even though we have been caught off guard, we are figuring out how to live [in this strange time], and we will turn our Bread of Affliction into Bread of Freedom.

Salt water (or vinegar in some Sephardic traditions): a mild disinfectant. We will take measures to protect ourselves. We don’t need zero risk — just keep it low enough not to overwhelm our healthcare system or our own immune systems.

Charoset: A mixture supposed to represent the mortar that sticks bricks together.  Our ancestors were forced to build literal walls with bricks and mortar.  Today we build virtual walls with “social distancing.”  But nothing is quite what it claims to be.   “Social distancing” actually means maintaining real physical distance while still socializing “virtually.”  Sephardic charoset, which generally includes mashed dates, figs, and/or bananas, really is sticky; but Ashkenazi charoset, chopped apples and walnuts seasoned with cinnamon and held together with wine or grape juice, wouldn’t stick anything together.  It’s virtual, not actual, mortar.    

But our virtual mortar is also sweet, and so is sticking together in tough times.  We are finding all sorts of creative ways to be “virtually” present with each other, from Zooming services to visiting our elders through windows to singing together from balconies.  This virtual togetherness helps ease the bitterness of enforced separation. And yet, it is no substitute for a hug or sitting around a table together. We are almost — virtually — there, but we keep a screen between us.  Charoset symbolizes everthing “virtual” that is being imposed by this pandemic.

Maror: The bitter plants of the world are also among the most tenacious. Like horseradish, like dandelion, we will survive and even thrive in the face of adversity.

Karpas: Spring green. In my family, there was always a cold boiled potato to dip in salt water, along with parsley. After I left home I learned that this was what Litvak (Lithuanian) Jews used for their ritual “hors d’oeuvre” — who had anything green in March that far north??  Karpas reminds us of the importance of short supply chains and eating locally.

Orange: Representative of the way that stories and explanations morph and change. I don’t have time to give you the links right now but there was an original midrash in a 1980s Oberlin Haggadah that referenced a crust of bread, which Susannah Heschel then transformed into an orange and re-drashed (gave new meanings to), and finally there was a widely-circulated folk-midrash, a completely made-up explanation that was believed to be true, mentioning Anita Bryant and an angry man. The orange reminds us to avoid contributing to the “infodemic” of misinformation, rumor, and outright disinformation.

Z’roa: Roasted shankbone, literally “arm,” the most stark of our symbols: a bone from an animal.  If you use a vegetable symbol (most commonly a roasted beet), that was a living being too.  But how like a virus is a harvested vegetable!  Not exactly living and growing, yet still harboring within itself a life force.  It is the heat of roasting that finally destroys its ability to grow.  Our bodies use the same tool. The fever that makes us so miserable is an attempt to roast the virus so it can reproduce no more.   

Z’roa has multiple layers of meaning.  It represents the Passover offering, the main dish of the Pesach meal in ancient times, and that sheep or goat symbolized an even earlier life and death experience.  Just before the tenth plague, God instructs Moses and Aaron to

“Speak to the whole community of Israel as follows: ‘On the tenth of this month each family shall take a lamb, one lamb per household. But if the household is too small for a lamb, let it share one with a neighbor who lives nearby, in proportion to the number of people: you shall contribute for the lamb according to what each household will eat. … You shall keep watch over it until the fourteenth day of this month, and then the assembled community of all the Israelites shall slaughter it at twilight. They shall take some of the blood and put it on the two doorposts and the lintel of the houses in which they are to eat it.’ … And the blood on the houses where you are will be a sign for you: When I see the blood I will pass over you, so that the plague will not destroy you when I strike the land of Egypt.” (Exodus 12:3-7, 13)

Thus z’roa also represents the healthy adaptations that the Israelites made in extraordinary times.  Look ahead a few days and prepare.  Cooperate with your neighbors to meet the needs of people in differing circumstances.  Swab your doorposts with blood, your door handles with disinfectant, to keep out the destroying plague.  (Thank you Rabbi Esther Hugenholtz for that parallel.)

The Hebrew word for “bone” itself, etsem, points to life-sustaining actions.  First, etsem also means “specific,” as in בְּעֶ֙צֶם֙ הַיּ֣וֹם הַזֶּ֔ה b’etsem ha-yom ha-zeh, “on this very day” (v. 17 in the same passage in Exodus).  This phrase reminds us to be truly present at this specific moment in time.  Thinking about the global pandemic and its ramifications for the future is anxiety-producing if not downright scary for many people.  But the future is virtual, not actually happening.  It is healthier to focus on the reality of this moment, and ground yourself in the specific tasks you want to accomplish b’etsem ha-yom ha-zeh, right now.

From etsem we also have otsmah, strength or fortitude, and atsma’oot, independence or self-sufficiency.  You may surprise yourself to find how deeply these qualities are bred in the bone. You have what it takes to get through this.  

Finally, the egg: The longer it’s cooked, the more rubbery it gets … under ordinary circumstances. But under true adversity, cooked for 6 hours or overnight to make huevos haminados, the egg takes on beautiful colors and is soft and creamy. So we will endure the tough and rubbery times, trusting that we will turn this time to beauty and good when we can.

Feel free to use, please b’shem omro (“in the name of the one who said it” — give credit). May you all have a chag sameyach v’kasher u’vari, a joyful and kosher and healthy holiday, and may we soon be liberated from Mitzrayim (Egypt) — ‘the narrow places’ in which we find ourselves.

Rabbi Debora S. Gordon

Reb Deb
April 2020/Nisan 5780

Mah Nishtanah: How is this plague different?

April 1, 2020 by • Rabbi's Writings • Tags: , , , • 1 Comment

Mah nishtanah ha-magefah ha-zot mi-kol ha-magefot! How different is this plague from all other plagues!

  1. For all other plagues took place long ago or far away. This plague is here and now.  
  2. For all other plagues in our lifetime there was an “us” and a “them.” This plague affects us all. 
  3. For all other plagues, real-time communication was a key problem. This plague comes at a time when information also spreads virally, for good and for ill.
  4. For all other plagues, we mentioned them at Seder. This year, we have to make Seder in the middle of the plague.

For each difference, there is a corresponding action:

  1. Accept that reality has changed. Reach out for emotional and spiritual support as you need it. Be patient and kind with yourself and others.  
  2. Reach out and strengthen (or form) a network of mutual support. We are all in this together and it will take every one of us to work our way through it in health and safety — emotional, mental, and spiritual as well as physical.  
  3. Use our ability to communicate long-distance and real-time to share emotional and practical support and verified information. Try not to contribute to the “infodemic” of misinformation, rumor, and disinformation.  
  4. See below.

Our world has been turned up-side down. We have lost the certainty of what’s happening next week, much less next month. It’s disorienting. Our ancestors responded to their suddenly-changed lives by complaining through the desert, occasionally refusing to follow rules, and longing for the way things used to be. We grieve for the ordinary lives we have lost, as well as for the death and suffering that this plague brings. We try to prepare for Pesach while mourning our lost expectations of what Seder would be like this year. 

Be patient; it will take time to adjust. Go easy on your expectations of yourself and others. Get outside into the sunshine, or at least stand at a window and breathe fresh air. Please be in touch if you want to talk. And be creative in your seder this year! Here are some new drashot (meanigful explanations) of our symbols:

  • Matzah: Represents both being unprepared (“they had no time to let their dough rise”) and responding creatively to novel situations. Even though we have been caught off guard, we will respond creatively and turn our Bread of Affliction into Bread of Freedom. 
  • Salt water (or vinegar in some Sephardic traditions): a mild disinfectant. We will take measures to protect ourselves. We don’t need zero risk — just keep it low enough not to overwhelm our healthcare system or our own immune systems.
  • The egg: The longer it’s cooked, the more rubbery it gets…under ordinary circumstances.  But under true adversity, cooked for 6 hours or overnight to make huevos haminados, the egg takes on beautiful colors and is soft and creamy. So we will endure the tough and rubbery times, trusting that we will turn this time to beauty and good when we can.
  • Maror: The bitter plants of the world are also among the most tenacious. Like horseradish, like dandelion, we will survive and even thrive in the face of adversity.
  • Karpas: Spring green. In my family, there was always a cold boiled potato to dip in salt water, along with parsley.  After I left home I learned that this was what Litvak (Lithuanian) Jews used for their ritual “hors d’oeuvre.” Who had anything green in March that far north?  Karpas reminds us of the importance of short supply chains and eating locally. 

May the Holy One of Blessing be a Presence you can feel when you are in need; and please be in touch if you are in need of a human ear. I hold you in my heart and pray that we will see each other face to face soon, and be able to offer hugs. Wishing you a zissen Peysach, a sweet Pesach, and a chag sameyach, a holiday of joy.   Zai gezunt! Be healthy!

Rabbi Debora S. Gordon

Mourning the Tragedy in Poway, CA

May 2, 2019 by • Rabbi's Writings • Tags: , • 0 Comments

May 2, 2019/27 Nisan 5779
Once more we are grieving and in shock because a terror attack has hit close to home: American Jews were targeted in Poway, California.  Once more we are saying Kaddish for a Jew killed only because she was a Jew: Lori Gilbert Kaye z”l.  Six days earlier Christians were murdered in Sri Lanka.  Three days later students were shot on the UNC campus.
We mourn and we grieve.  Again.  For Jews targeted and killed while celebrating Pesach.  Again.
And for University of North Carolina students shot on the last day of class.
And for Christians murdered in Sri Lanka while celebrating Easter.
And for Muslims gunned down in New Zealand during Friday prayer.
And for Jews killed while celebrating a bris in Pittsburgh.
And for African-American members of “Mother Emanuel” Church shot during Bible study, four years ago.
And for students and teachers gunned down at Sandy Hook Elementary School.
And for Israeli Jews murdered while celebrating Pesach in Netanya in 2002.
And for Palestinian Muslims killed while praying at the Cave of the Patriarchs in 1994.
And for wedding guests — Kurdish and Jordanian and Mozambiquan and Yemeni …
And the list goes on…

There is a time for everything.  Yes, we must mourn.  But can we live in a perpetual state of mourning, just because now we are able to hear about every violent tragedy that happens in any corner of the world?

No.  We cannot.  Life is not meant to be one long dirge, nor were we created to live in misery and fear.  “And God saw everything that God had made, and found it very good.”  (Genesis 1:31)  We are not permitted to ignore or dismiss the good.  Good is as real as bad, and far more prevalent: that’s why we don’t hear about it!  Imagine, “Today, several billion people accomplished something worthwhile, and though stressful, their lives continued more or less along an expected path.”  It isn’t news because it happens all the time.

As Jordana Horn writes:  “It is true that here in the U.S. in 2019, we live in a country in turmoil.  We are in an age where the dogs of hate are being encouraged and unleashed. We live in an era where the voices of hate are magnified through the mirrors of social media. I believe we live in a time where people look into their phones rather than into each others’ eyes and souls.

“I also believe that we can — and we must — change that. And we change that not by being ‘terrified’ or ‘distraught’ or ‘heartbroken,’ but by being determined, resolute, and, above all, ourselves….

“I am going to continue to build my home and my family around the scaffolding of who I am: a Jew, an heir to an amazing heritage and history.”  (https://www.kveller.com/they-try-to-kill-us-but-they-wont-succeed/)

So when something traumatizes you, take care of yourself and those you love.  Come sing and pray and talk with us this Shabbat, as Rabbi Yisroel Goldstein of Poway Chabad asked us all to do.  If you need to talk to children, try and process your own feelings somewhat first, so you are not transmitting raw trauma to them.  Listen to their questions and tell them you will do everything you can to keep them safe. (Good guidance here: https://www.nytimes.com/2012/12/15/health/tips-for-talking-to-children-about-the-elementary-school-mass-shooting.html)  Ask for comfort when you need it.  Say prayers for those whose lives are directly affected.  Deepen your own life.  As Horn says, “Yes, I will mourn with my people. But I will also live with them, every day of my life. And I hope you will join me.   We are the people who are charged with the responsibility of healing the world. It’s not incumbent upon each of us to finish the job, but neither are we free to desist from it. So let’s get to work.”

What if we arm the teachers?  A lesson from Purim

February 23, 2018 by • Rabbi's Writings • Tags: , , • 0 Comments

Esther Chapter 9

23 February 2018 / 8 Adar 5778

The 3 college-age children of Congressman Ted Deutch (D-FL) just started a campaign called Bake Action Against Gun Violence.

“For us, social action is rooted in our Jewish values. As Purim approaches, we invite Jewish communities across the country—organizations such as Hillels and synagogues, or groups of individuals, or collaborative efforts across one city—to join us in the fight to end gun violence in America. Purim celebrates courage, and this Purim, we will stand strong. We will bake Hamantaschen and make Mishloach Manot baskets to sell in our communities. We will donate the proceeds to groups working to end gun violence in America. Examples include Everytown for Gun Safety, the March for Our Lives, and GoFundMe pages helping survivors and the victims’ families. We invite you to join us.

Every year on Purim we read the Megillah, a story about a Jewish woman named Esther who stood up to an evil man who wanted to destroy the Jewish people. Her cousin Mordechai, one of the heroes of the story, asks her: “Who knows if you have not come to your position for just such a time as this?”

Now is the time to take action. We are in a position to create change. It won’t be easy, but each of us has the power to help stop gun violence. Let’s remember the 17 students and teachers lost to senseless violence at Douglas so that they did not die in vain.”

Awesome and Yasher Koach — Jewish values in action, grounded in Jewish text.

Then I realized there’s an even tighter link between Purim and school shootings in particular.

Due to governmental regulations, King Achashveyrosh can’t disarm the factions who have been encouraged and given 11 months to prepare themselves to massacre Jews on the 13th day of Adar.  (Esther 3:7-13)  A decree, once given, cannot be countermanded.  (Esther 8:8) Instead, Esther and Mordechai write new orders permitting the Jews to use massive force against anyone who attacks them.  (Esther 8:9-13)

Result?  800 dead in the capital Shushan alone, plus 75,000 elsewhere in the kingdom.  (Esther chapter 9)

Is that what we want?  An on-going bloodbath?

It brings up other issues with arming teachers: Are all teachers fit to wield deadly weapons?  What training would be required of them?  Teaching youth has to be one of the potentially most frustrating jobs in the universe, right next to parenting.  How much danger would students be in from their teachers?  What danger would there be that a gang of angry students would sieze a gun from an unprepared teacher?  And so on.

Bringing guns into schools, even under the supervision of teachers, only brings more guns into schools.  More guns means more opportunity for gun violence.  There is such a difference between a fight breaking out between people who are armed with fists, and those who are armed with any weapon.  School is not a safe place for guns.

King Achashveyrosh had his hands tied by pre-existing regulations, or long-standing custom, which apparently he couldn’t change.  The US has the power to change our laws in ways which reduce violence, not encourage more of it.

Holy places are safe spaces

February 16, 2018 by • Rabbi's Writings • Tags: , • 0 Comments

T’rumah, Exodus 25:1-27:19

16 February 2018/ 1 Adar 5778

“Let them build me a mikdash, a place of holiness” says God, “and I will dwell in their midst.”  (Exodus 25:8)

Not “in it” but “in the middle of them.”

If you can successfully build a place of holiness, then I will [already] be present in your community.

And what constitutes a place of holiness?  A place whose metal portions are gold and silver, copper, and bronze, but not  iron, the weapon of war. (Exodus 35:5)

A place which may not even be built using iron tools to shape the stone.  (Exodus 20:22)  Nor should the sounds of striking or beating or hammering even be heard in the place.  (I Kings 6:7, describing Solomon building the First Temple in Jerusalem)

A place of holiness is a place where weapons and tools which are also used to make war are intentionally excluded.

It’s not that those tools don’t have their place: In Solomon’s building, the stone was shaped at the quarry.  (I Kings 6:7 again)  While one can make strong arguments in support of pacifism and non-violence in Judaism, and war is to be a last resort (“When you approach a town to attack it, you shall offer it terms of peace” Deuteronomy 20:10), Torah does not go so far as to ban the military.

But if you want to build a society in which God dwells, you focus your intention on creating spaces where reminders of war and even the sounds of violent physical conflict are excluded.

And when you have created those spaces, then God is already dwelling among you.

May the memories and lives of those who were murdered in Parkland, Florida this week by a young man who should never have had access to a weapon of war … may their memories join with those of all other victims of gun violence to galvanize us into action.  May we create a society in which God dwells among us because we are able to exclude weapons of war and violence from our holy public space.

כן יהי רצון/Keyn y’hi ratson — We know this is God’s will.  It is up to us to make it into our will.

There Arose a New King Who Knew Not Joseph…

December 28, 2017 by • Rabbi's Writings • Tags: , , • 0 Comments

There Arose a New King Who Knew Not Joseph…

What do you mean, “Who knew not Joseph”?  A king didn’t know his own country’s history?  How could it be that a prince who would later become Pharaoh hadn’t been tutored in the annals of the kingdom, which surely included information about the massive contributions made to his country by this immigrant and resident alien?  As Genesis tells the story, Joseph had saved all of Egypt from a disastrous famine, not merely by foreseeing it, but by devising strategies to stockpile food ahead of time and dispense it during the famine, and then putting into place the government infrastructure to carry out this policy. Classic big-government policy; but in this case, nothing less would have allowed Egypt to maintain its position as leader of their area of the world. Joseph’s entire family (a clan then numbering 70) immigrated to the country and settled in Goshen, a district unused by the Egyptians but suited to Jacob and Joseph’s family’s main occupation as livestock breeders.  How could it be that there arose a new king who knew not Joseph?   

Traditional Jewish commentary even questions how this king came to be on the throne.  Shouldn’t there have been a death notice about the old king, if the succession had passed in the ordinary way?  Ibn Ezra (12th c Spain) suggests a radical discontinuity: The new king was not from the same lineage as the old king. (Palace coup? Invasion? Populist uprising?)  Chizkuni (13th c. France) and others suggest that it was actually the same old, same old king, but he started enacting new decrees. 

Old king or new, Rashi (11th c France) points out that he acted as though he knew not Joseph.  Maybe the king knew, and maybe he didn’t want to know, but either way, we were in trouble.

One commentator (Sforno, 16th century Italy) blames the victim.  To paraphrase:  “Sure, Pharaoh knew about Joseph.  But his descendants had so far fallen in the world that nobody connected the current Israelites with their illustrious ancestor, on account of their (unspecified) current behavior.”  The corollary of this unfortunate perspective is what’s called “The Politics of Respectability”: To receive better treatment from the group in power, we of the minority have to behave better according to the customs of the majority.  For the record, it doesn’t work, not to mention being unjust and self-damaging.  See here for a well-written, wise-ass essay defining “respectability politics”:  http://www.theroot.com/the-definition-danger-and-disease-of-respectability-po-1790854699 

There arose a new king who knew not Joseph, and he appealed to the populace with racist and fear-mongering words:  “Look at all these aliens, these foreigners.  They’re everywhere!  They’re taking over!  But we can prevent that if we’re smart enough.”  I’m reading “rise from the ground” as some commentators do, meaning “come to dominate us,” rather than the more common “get up out of the land.”  (See below, Exodus chapter 1 verse 10.)

How could this happen?  One clue lies in verse 6:  Joseph died, and all his brothers, and all that generation.   The living witnesses were gone, “The times they are a-changin’.”  A new generation arose, not just a new king. 

 I remember when President Clinton (sigh) enacted “Don’t ask, don’t tell” I heard a radio commentary which included some research about what changed people’s attitudes about queer folk.  The likeliest predictor of a positive attitude toward gay rights (as we called it then) was knowing a gay man or lesbian.  Or rather, I should say, knowing that you knew one, since so many of us lived relatively closeted lives.  

But gay people pop up in the best (and worst) families; but culture and wealth, not to mention physical characteristics, tend to be passed down the generations within families.  So it’s hard to get to know — really know, as peers and equals and friends — folks from a different culture, socio-economic status, race, or immigrant status, unless you work at it.  And in the absence of personal contact and personal story-telling, all sorts of myths are liable to spring up, including ones that rewrite history.  Bridging the divide between rural Goshen and cosmopolitan Egypt would have required mixing and mingling of people who were quite content to stay separate, and it just didn’t happen.  To the great detriment, not only of the Israelites, but in the end to the detriment of Egypt too, which suffered under plagues that were the consequences of a Pharaoh with a hard heart.  (But that part of the story begins in next Shabbat’s Torah portion.  See Exodus 7:8 and following at http://www.sefaria.org/Exodus.7.8?lang=bi)

So the new king and his policies were aided and abetted by a stratified society, in which the majority of people only knew their own reality; at best, how “the other half” (or fraction) lived was seen from a distance.   So there was a large segment of the population who were ready to hear Pharaoh’s characterizations of these outsiders, and later to carry out the slow genocide that he decreed  (Exodus 1:22 http://www.sefaria.org/Exodus.1.22?lang=bi).

In the story which begins in this week’s Torah portion, it takes Divine intervention to end the Israelites’ enslavement.  But later Jewish tradition teaches that we are not to rely on miracles.  Instead, we follow the example of the two Hebrew midwives who show up a few verses later (Exodus 1:15-22).  (Presumably, they were Egyptian midwives who attended to births among the Hebrews.  Or did Pharaoh perhaps believe that he could co-opt  two women to act against their own people??  http://www.sefaria.org/Exodus.1.15?lang=bi)

Pharaoh instructed them to kill all the Hebrew baby boys at birth, but the midwives respected God and followed their consciences, using Pharaoh’s very prejudices against him.  When Pharaoh called them on the carpet for disobeying his orders, they replied, “Oh, you know those Hebrew women, they’re savages.  They just pop those babies out before we can get to them.”  Here I give my own translation of the word חיות / chayot in verse 19, variously translated as “vigorous” or “lively.”  “Chayot” means “alive, living” but it also means “wild animal.”  The midwives play on Pharaoh’s assumption that Egyptians are civilized and Hebrews are barely house-broken, and he accepts their assertion without question.   

Direct civil disobedience would probably cost the midwives their jobs in a crucial “helping profession,” if not their lives.  But they find non-violent and non-confrontational ways to subvert “the man,” and they pull it off successfully.  They take a brave and principled stand right in the face of power, using Pharaoh’s own world-view in order to subvert that world-view.   

Unfortunately, Pharaoh then turns to the general public and incites them to murder.  While the midwives alone cannot change public policy and stop the slaughter, they continue to structure their own lives and work in accordance with the highest principles, ones they understand to be godly.  And they are remembered for the good:  “And God dealt well with the midwives…and because the midwives respected God, God established households for them.”  (Exodus 1:20-21 http://www.sefaria.org/Exodus.1.20?lang=bi)

“There arose a new king who knew not Joseph.”  When public policy is made by people who disparage immigrants, incite violence, spread fear and hatred, and make use of the estrangement of segments of the population from each other; people who ignore the past and rewrite the present — the stage is set for all manner of bitterness  (Exodus 1:14).  

We each have an acute responsibility in this time to hold fast to our highest principles and to put them into action in any way we can.  And ideally, doing so without putting ourselves or anyone else into peril.

There is also a crying need to travel beyond the borders of our own community, because knowing the “other” is the most powerful way to avoid “othering” people we don’t know.   Goshen and Thebes need to know each other, not just “about” each other.

If we do these things, there is no guarantee that we will be able to change public policy sufficiently to mitigate harm.  But if we do not do them, things will assuredly be worse.  Let us be remembered for the good!

==============

From this week’s Torah portion Sh’mot — Exodus chapter 1, verses 6-12:

6

וַיָּ֤מָת יוֹסֵף֙ וְכָל־אֶחָ֔יו וְכֹ֖ל הַדּ֥וֹר הַהֽוּא׃

Joseph died, and all his brothers, and all that generation. 

7

וּבְנֵ֣י יִשְׂרָאֵ֗ל פָּר֧וּ וַֽיִּשְׁרְצ֛וּ וַיִּרְבּ֥וּ וַיַּֽעַצְמ֖וּ בִּמְאֹ֣ד מְאֹ֑ד וַתִּמָּלֵ֥א הָאָ֖רֶץ אֹתָֽם׃

But the Israelites were fertile and prolific; they multiplied and increased very greatly, so that the land was filled with them. 

8

וַיָּ֥קָם מֶֽלֶךְ־חָדָ֖שׁ עַל־מִצְרָ֑יִם אֲשֶׁ֥ר לֹֽא־יָדַ֖ע אֶת־יוֹסֵֽף׃

A new king arose over Egypt who did not know Joseph. 

9

וַיֹּ֖אמֶר אֶל־עַמּ֑וֹ הִנֵּ֗ה עַ֚ם בְּנֵ֣י יִשְׂרָאֵ֔ל רַ֥ב וְעָצ֖וּם מִמֶּֽנּוּ׃

And he said to his people, “Look, the Israelite people are much too numerous for us. 

10

הָ֥בָה נִֽתְחַכְּמָ֖ה ל֑וֹ פֶּן־יִרְבֶּ֗ה וְהָיָ֞ה כִּֽי־תִקְרֶ֤אנָה מִלְחָמָה֙ וְנוֹסַ֤ף גַּם־הוּא֙ עַל־שֹׂ֣נְאֵ֔ינוּ וְנִלְחַם־בָּ֖נוּ וְעָלָ֥ה מִן־הָאָֽרֶץ׃

Let us deal shrewdly with them, so that they may not increase; otherwise in the event of war they may join our enemies in fighting against us and rise from the ground.” 

11

וַיָּשִׂ֤ימוּ עָלָיו֙ שָׂרֵ֣י מִסִּ֔ים לְמַ֥עַן עַנֹּת֖וֹ בְּסִבְלֹתָ֑ם וַיִּ֜בֶן עָרֵ֤י מִסְכְּנוֹת֙ לְפַרְעֹ֔ה אֶת־פִּתֹ֖ם וְאֶת־רַעַמְסֵֽס׃

So they set taskmasters over them to oppress them with forced labor; and they built garrison cities for Pharaoh: Pithom and Raamses. 

12

וְכַאֲשֶׁר֙ יְעַנּ֣וּ אֹת֔וֹ כֵּ֥ן יִרְבֶּ֖ה וְכֵ֣ן יִפְרֹ֑ץ וַיָּקֻ֕צוּ מִפְּנֵ֖י בְּנֵ֥י יִשְׂרָאֵֽל׃

But the more they were oppressed, the more they increased and spread out, so that the [Egyptians] came to dread the Israelites.

(http://www.sefaria.org/Exodus.1.8?lang=bi)

 

A Trip to Sharon Springs, NY

October 10, 2017 by • Rabbi's Writings • Tags: , • 0 Comments

A Trip to Sharon Springs, NY

10 October 2017

Today was a serendipitous trip to Sharon Springs, NY.

Not serendipitous for the seven women who had planned to go together on the trip sponsored by the Women’s Philanthropy division of our local Jewish Federation; but I didn’t know anyone from Berith Sholom was going and they didn’t know that I was going.  Serendipitously, we had a congregational outing.  It was quite wonderful to spend the day with them.

I had spent a few days in Sharon Springs a decade ago and was quite fond of what I remembered: a funny mixture of old and new, Jewish and gay and Korean, in semi-rural upstate NY.  So when I saw the trip announced a month or so ago, I jumped at the chance.  It felt a little like playing hooky … but I would be participating in the wider community (which helps our little congregation’s visibility), and after the High Holy Days I knew I would need a few relaxing days, and this could be one of them, especially if the weather cooperated.  Which it most certainly did.

But then it turned out to be with my congregation after all, and that made it very sweet.   The 7 members of Berith Sholom and I made up exactly one table for lunch at Miss Lodema’s Tea Room.  

01 CBS participants at Miss Lodemas Tea House

I can’t exactly say I have connections in Sharon Springs … but the title Rabbi gives one an audacity sometimes, and today it ended up enhancing the trip.  Linda Pollack at Federation, who made the arrangements, had tried very hard to get the synagogue opened for our visit.  That’s the “new” synagogue, up on Willow Street.  But the rabbi lives out of town, and it’s very hard to travel on Chol haMo’ed Sukkot if you’re spending all morning in shul.  For whatever reason, the local caretaker wasn’t available today.  So it looked like we weren’t going to be able to get in.

And then I discovered that no one leading the trip knew about the old shul … but I did, because I had been there, 10 years ago.  We walked around a bit when we arrived, and I figured out where it must be, from the curve of a street that I remembered.  Maxine Koblenz, who visited Sharon Springs as a little girl with her mother and Bubbie, remembered seeing huge black limousines pull up carrying Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson z”l and his entourage.  (Turns out it was Rabbi Joel Teitelbaum z”l and Satmer Chasidim.  Thank you Susie R. for tracking down this photography exhibit at the Fenimore Art Museum!)

So after lunch off we wandered.

The old chasidic shul at 108 Union Street, front

When I visited here 10 years ago, I stayed with one of the only Jewish inhabitants of the town — it just worked out that way, as his B&B was quite affordable. He knew quite a bit about the town’s Jewish history, including this shul, and made sure we had the opportunity to see it.  I have on my bookshelf, from that day, a volume of Tehillim (Psalms) that I rescued from one of the rooms in this crumbling building.

You can see one green pew sitting at the far end of the front porch, but otherwise there is nothing out front to indicate this was a synagogue.  There is bare wood on a side doorframe where a mezuzah was removed, but that’s probably true of half the boarding houses in town.  Clearly the building was originally a house — perhaps a “cottage” in the grand Victorian style — and later became a prayer space.  

The back, as you can see, is open to the elements.  

Old shul from the back, close-up

Old shul from the back, distant view from near mikveh

    

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Further back (photo below right) is a dilapidated building, maybe originally a carriage house, which had been converted into living quarters.  I remember going upstairs a decade ago, and it was fairly decrepit then.  I wouldn’t chance it today.

Dilapidated living quarters behind old shul

As we were looking around this afternoon, someone asked if there was a mikveh (ritual bath).  That tickled the back of my mind, and eventually I pushed through the weeds to the shed-like structure which stands at the back left corner of the property.  It looked, in fact, almost like a sukkah, appropriate to the season but unlikely where there is no contemporary Jewish community.  It was not a sukkah; it was unmistakably a mikveh.

Approaching mikveh from side

Mikveh mayim means “a gathering of waters.”  It refers to a body of “living water” which is used ceremonially to mark transitions of personal status.  Any body of natural water is automatically a mikveh, as far as I know; but for reasons of modesty and comfort, observant communities always build an indoor mikveh.  A constructed mikveh requires two pools: the pool in which one immerses is filled with ordinary tap water, while the other pool collects rainwater.  There is a hole (Hebrew bor) connecting the two, and when the waters “kiss,” the tap water is considered to have been transformed into “living water” like the natural water.  

The design and size of mikva’ot hasn’t changed much in 2,000 years.  (See info about the Burnt House in Jerusalem, though the photo doesn’t show the mikveh clearly.  There are some nice photos in the Wikipedia article about Mikveh.)  Every mikveh I have seen has steps to assist the person to enter and leave again.

Between the size and the steps, there really wasn’t any question what we were standing next to.  It was bittersweet: That a Jewish community had flourished here; that it had abandoned its former summer home and moved elsewhere, leaving behind a desolate and crumbling shul; and that we, all women, would not have been particularly comfortable or welcome in that community — at least I wouldn’t have been.  There’s not much place for female rabbis in the ultra-Orthodox Jewish world (!), and even less for lesbians.

Yet we claim them as part of us, part of the Jewish community, whether or not they claim us.

Looking down into the mikveh: steps, leaves, reflection of trees

The photo below, looking across the rim of the mikveh, shows the bor (hole) through which natural and tap water “kiss.”

Mikveh showing "bor" (hole) connecting the rainwater pool with the immersion pool

Sharon Springs was a thriving town in its heyday.  (Seehere.)   The town has hosted communities of Chasidic Jews, Holocaust survivors, and I think elderly Russian Jews, along with the thousands of people (Jewish and non-Jewish) who came as individuals and families for the reputed curative properties of the waters. The earliest settler families were Dutch Reformed and Lutheran. Several of the businesses that have tried to put Sharon Springs on the map in the past two decades are owned by gay men.  The largest spa building has been tied up in wranging among a Korean development group for the past decade; a resolution has been reached, and permits recently acquired, and connstruction begun.  So the next phase of development may be an influx of Korean tourists brought in by the busload.

As we walked around the block to the old shul, we encountered the man at whose B&B I had stayed all those years ago.  He’s a part-time resident of the town and probably the only Jew living there now.  I recognized him but as we had just heard some rather strong words about him, I decided that I didn’t need to complicate the situation by claiming an acquaintance.  

In any case, he wanted to know about our visit, and when we told him that we had not been able to arrange for the “new” synagogue to be opened for us, he offered us the phone number of the caretaker and then, more importantly, announced “There’s always a key.”  This was the second bit of serendipity of the day — our little bit of bashert: Because we met him while walking down the street, because I knew who he was, because I wasn’t shy about making use of the information he offered, we were able to see the synagogue from the inside as well as the outside.  I think it was a highlight of the day.

The new synagogue up on Willow Street was built in 1904 and rededicated 50 years later.  There is no congregation these days, but the building is sometimes used by those who want to celebrate a special occasion there.  I imagine it’s mostly people who have a personal connection to the old days in Sharon Springs.  

Thanks to “crowd-sourcing” on Facebook, I now know that the Yiddish sign (below) says “Please close the door.”  The tiny word at the bottom is a sort of Yiddish transliteration of “yasher koach” (well done!); it says “sh’koyach…”

There was a simple mechitzah (divider, screen) set up, with tables and chairs on either side.  Perhaps an ultra-Orthodox wedding, with men and women seated separately?  In any case, the last photo captures light from the stained glass falling on the mechitzah.

Front of 1904 synagogue on Willow Street

 

14 Dedication plaque 1904 synagogue"Please close the door, sh'koach" Yiddish sign inside the door of the 1904 synagogue

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

16 Stained glass colors on the mechitzah 1904 synagogue

Rights

June 26, 2013 by • Rabbi's Writings • Tags: , , , • 0 Comments

  • Social Security
  • Federal pensions and health benefits
  • Joint filing of 1040
  • All kinds of rights and tax credits for non-biological parents in jurisdictions where same-sex partners cannot do second-parent adoption
  • Estate tax
  • Rolling over an inherited IRA into the IRA of the surviving spouse
  • Family and Medical Leave
  • Immigration
  • COBRA coverage

See http://www.hrc.org/resources/entry/an-overview-of-federal-rights-and-protections-granted-to-married-couples

SOCIAL SECURITY?!  I never thought about that!

Deportation proceedings in Manhattan were literally stopped today because the Supreme Court overturned DOMA!

שהחינו       shehecheyanu              … Who gave us life

וקימנו        v’kiymanu                      and sustained us

והגיענו       v’higi’anu                       and brought us

לזמן הזה    la-zman ha-zeh!            to this moment!

I’m still wrapping my mind around it.  The Federal Government now must recognize that I’m married?  That makes it REAL!

I Just Want To Be Treated as a Family, Like Any Other Family

June 25, 2013 by • Rabbi's Writings • Tags: , , • 0 Comments

Around 2:30pm, Monday June 24, 2013

I just want to be treated as a family like any other family. We’ve been waiting at Adirondack Oral and Maxillofacial Surgery for over an hour because they looked at us, with different last names and skin tone, and asked if I was his legal guardian.  I’d already signed all the consent forms as his parent.

I said, essentially, No, I’m not (merely) his legal guardian, I’m his parent, he’s adopted.  At which point they refused to accept my word that he was adopted, and insisted that I prove it.

I refused.  First of all, I don’t carry around his birth certificate or adoption certificate as a matter of course — if you’re a parent, do you?  Second of all, the irony of it is that we’d applied for a passport in the morning, so we’d just sent off the originals of those documents to the US Government for 4 to 6 weeks.  I’d had them in my hands not two hours before.  Sure, we have copies of the adoption order.  But they were at home.  And home is half an hour away.  And I wasn’t about to ask my long-suffering wife to make an hour round trip because someone in the office wasn’t accepting my word AND THE OFFICE HAD NEGLECTED TO MAKE SURE AHEAD OF TIME that we wouldn’t need special documentation.  Wife had made the appointment; she and son have the same last name.  But we figured that I could sit there for an hour or two and get some work done, so I took him.  Ha!

BTW their website says that a parent or legal guardian must accompany a minor.  It says nothing about proving you have legal guardianship rights.

They insisted they didn’t ask me about our relationship status because he’s black and I’m white; it was because we have different last names.  They claimed that they always ask for proof when parents and kids have different last names.

Really?  If that’s true, then certainly they must have had a situation before where the parent with the same last name did the intake, but the parent with a different last name actually brought them in.  Did they really ask those parents if they are the legal parents?

(After it was all over I wrote this:)

I initially posted my frustration on Facebook.  Here are some of the comments I got:

  • “As you know, I have a different last name from my children, and no one has ever asked me to prove that they are mine. There’s no excuse.”
  • “At security in the Atlanta airport, the TSA agent asked A (adopted from China) her full name, then how old she is, then she pointed at me and said, ‘And who is this?’ Only after A said, “My mom” did the agent allows us to go through.”  (Good Lord, if a child’s word is good enough for Homeland Security it ought to be good enough for a dental surgeon!  Nobody even bothered to ask my son.)
  • “As parents with two different last names, and children with hyphenated last names we’ve had lots of problems locating info and coordinating insurance issues (sometimes under one name, sometimes under another) but have NEVER had a problem proving parenthood. In fact no one ever asked us about it. Now we are a two parent, straight and white family, so I am suspecting more than the usual bias going on with you. That’s horrible and probably something that could require a bit of legal scrutiny, though that’s costly and ought to be unnecessary.”  
  • “I don’t get challenged. Like you’d really be taking someone else’s kid to the dentist anyway.”  (This from a parent who has two kids with two different last names, only one of which matches the parent’s.)
  • “What’s wrong is that how do they know that ANY child with ANY adult is really that child’s parent or legal guardian? … I assume that if you hadn’t been there before you would have had to fill out an information sheet. Even if the names are different, once you say you are the mother or parent, that should be it. They never asked me for proof that my last name was REALLY the same as those of my children. They just believed my info … There are other ways to tell when something is wrong if you have half a brain. Watch the child and the parent. You can tell if that is really the parent. What if he was your biological child with a different name and a different skin color? What would you show for proof, stretch marks?”  That’s my favorite comment of the whole thread!

So I don’t believe it for a minute that it was simply the last name that flagged them.

In the end, they received copies of the adoption order faxed from both my wife AND our referring dentist, which is who they should have asked immediately. Not made it our problem, and delayed the surgery from 1:45 to about 3:30 (after Eldest Son hadn’t had anything to eat since midnight due to the anesthesia).  Obviously if our dentist recognizes our legal status as parents enough to give us the referral, that office should be able to reassure this office.

After the faxed proof came through, and we all calmed down enough to talk to each other without vehement emotion, the woman I was speaking with at the time assured me that she’d already talked to the phone center and the intake script has been revised.  I’m tempted to call them as if to make an appointment, just to see.

2 other favorite comments:

  • “Wow, you have my sympathies and indignation. I would definitely speak to whomever referred you and let them know not to refer anyone else until they fix things. Then sic the goats on’em.”
  • “…like it is really so easy to just get some random teen to walk in with you to get teeth pulled… ‘hey kid, why don’t you come with me. I can get you in and get 4 teeth pulled out of your head and I don’t even know you!’…he was cooperative with you about GETTING TEETH PULLED!!!. Sorry, i just can’t get over the idea that they would think he wouldn’t be your kid (in this particular situation)…”

And:

  • “I sympathize completely; i hate stumbling into those situations where i get reminded that we are different, makes me feel stupid for forgetting.”  

Exactly.  I want to be treated as a family like any other family, which is how I think of ourselves.  And I do know that we’re not alone in this nonsense.  As my sister said, “I’ve heard horror stories from other parents (from straight families with biological children) about similar situations. I’ve also been advised to keep a copy of my marriage license handy in case of emergency because I didn’t insist G change his last name.”  And being lesbian, and just having gotten legally married, I’m more sensitive than the average bear about whether my family is recognized and respected.  

But the truth is, that doesn’t cover all my indignation.  The logic of it was Kafka-esque:  The only proof you have that he’s adopted, is that I say he’s adopted.  But now that I’ve said he’s adopted, you don’t believe that he’s adopted.  

If you parse it out, they believed the implication of “adopted” that he isn’t biologically mine, but not the “legally adopted” part of adopted.  

There’s a principle in Jewish law which says “The mouth that forbids is the mouth that permits.”  That was in the back of my head and it was part of what made me determined to fight this.  It means that if someone comes and admits a circumstance that would be an impediment (to whatever), but then says that they have resolved the impediment, they are believed — because they did not have to inform you of the impediment in the first place.  They could have kept it secret.

So in future I should merely affirm that he is mine?  Not say the word “adopted,” which to me is the magic word of permanency?  Perhaps.  Let them figure out how this white woman came to have this beautiful black son.

In fact, if Wife had taken him in, would they have asked?  They share the same last name, but not the same skin color. How many times have they done surgery on adopted kids, never knowing or requiring proof of parentage, because they happen to have the same last name as their parent and don’t look radically different?

And there was another thing.  I wanted Eldest Son to be really, really clear that he’s mine, that he’s loved, and that I will go to bat for him, as well as for the principle of being family.  He told his other mother afterward that he thought it was kind of fun to watch his Eema throw a small fit; and he came home feeling very loved.  So I’m kind of proud about that.  “Sometimes Mama Lion comes out,” I told him, and he smiled.

One last regret: I wish I’d thought to insist on speaking directly to the doc who was refusing to do the work w/o proof of legal relationship. Instead, office staff (all female of course) had to deal with me.  And I was not a happy camper.  I didn’t yell, but I was VEHEMENT.

Tho if I had insisted on talking directly to the doc they might have thrown me out, since I probably would have had to barge into the room where he was performing a procedure, and that’s not quite the same as confronting someone across a desk.  And we’d already gone through the hassle of scheduling, rescheduling, and not eating for more than 12 hours prior to anesthesia.  I wanted it done.

So the doc will be getting a strongly-worded letter, which will focus on intake procedures and assumptions. Either you ask every single parent for proof of parenthood, or you acknowledge that the whole thing is based on trust and you accept my word just as you would accept the implicit word of someone who showed up with a kid of the same last name.  You don’t let your assumptions about who’s a parent, or who’s legal family, get in the way.

What I know from being a foster parent is that it’s barbers and haircutters who really ought to be doing due diligence. Hair can have so much cultural and religious significance that *haircuts* are what we were not allowed to do without the approval/consent of birth parents.

But did a barber or haircutter ever ask us for proof of parental status or consent? No, and neither did DSS. (It’s not actually the barber’s problem, being a DSS regulation on foster parents and not a law. Or maybe it is a law, what do I know?)  But did DSS ever check that we’d gotten parental consent before taking foster kids for a haircut?

But you get the point.  Most of our interactions are based on trust.  Let’s acknowledge that and stop this stupid profiling.

1 2 3 4 5 >»