Dec. 2nd, 2010

cellio: (talmud)
Today's daf is Zevachim 22, but in honor of the season I am drawing from the passage in tractate Shabbat that describes Chanukah. (Everything the talmud has to say about Chanukah is covered in about three pages in this tractate, by the way.)

The rabbis call for the Chanukah lights to be lit just outside one's front door (not inside). This can raise problems of liability. We learned elsewhere: if a camel laden with flax spills its load into a shop, catching the shop-keeper's light and starting a fire, the camel-driver is liable, but if the shop-keeper put the light outside his shop, the shop-keeper is liable for the loss of the flax. What about the Chanukah lights? Rabbi Yehudah says the shop-keeper is exempt. The rabbis go on to conclude that this means the Chanukah lights must be placed within ten hand-breadths of the ground, not high up, because if placing them high up were acceptable, the camel-driver would have recourse to claim that the shop-keeper should be liable. Why do we not just require that the lights be high (out of camel-range)? Because if it is too much trouble, he might refrain from the mitzvah of the Chanukah lights. (21b)

cellio: (menorah)
One of my ongoing frustrations with many Reform services (and prayer books) is what I think of as dumbing down the service to be accessible to all, in the process alienating some of the dedicated people who were already there. (There's a vicious cycle in there that leads to needing to do so because everyone else has fled.) I wondered a little whether I was being hyper-sensitive or something, because when I've brought it up in conversation I've mostly gotten surprised looks.

I recently came across rethinking egalitarianism and found myself emphatically saying "yes yes yes!" while reading. Excerpt:

Let's rethink what we mean by "egalitarianism." What if it meant "open to all who bother to make the effort"? What if synagogues distributed fliers that said: "Welcome! We are very glad you are here. Our service is somewhat traditional, because that traditional form works for us. You may be a little lost at first. So we warmly invite you to join our weekly Siddur 101 class, where you can learn the ropes." People who choose to accept the invitation obtain the rewards. Those who don't, don't. Not only would such an approach allow longtime participants to get more out of the prayer experience, but it would also suggest to newcomers that there's something worth working toward. Things that come cheap usually feel that way.

As I understand it, this is part of Rabbi Elie Kaunfer's argument in his recent book, "Empowered Judaism" (Jewish Lights Publishing). What the Jewish world needs, Kaunfer writes, is not more dumbing-down but more empowerment of individuals to opt in if they so desire. Before Kaunfer, this argument was Maimonides's: The best Judaism is really only for philosophers, but the opportunity to become a philosopher ought to be open to everybody.

American Jews have long prized education and knowledge. So why do we suddenly throw those values out the window when it comes to synagogue life? Is it really more inclusive to be patronized by a service aimed at the lowest common denominator?

Thoughts?

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