Monica

Shefa Gold, a prominent rabbi in the Renewal movement, was in Pittsburgh this weekend. I went to the Shabbat morning service that she led. It was...different.

I went to the Renewal movement's national kallah a few years ago, and most of what I know about their ideas and worship styles comes from that. (Much of the rest comes from reading the Velveteen Rabbi's blog.) At the kallah I encountered a lot of worship motifs that I think of as "new-age", such as drumming, movement/dance, yoga, meditation, and an abundance of creative English readings displacing set liturgy. But I also encountered well-done music that enhanced worship, and a focus on core kavannot (intentions) behind the prayers. At the time I described the kallah as a whole, including both worship and learning, as "decent with a high standard deviation".

So with some trepidation, and a resolve to leave if necessary, I went to the service. There were a couple good ideas there, but also some things that turned me off, so I'm glad this was a one-shot. I didn't walk out, but nor would I go again.

I'm not going to give a detailed chronology, but I have some observations of things that stood out:

( Read more... )

Wandering Stars is the classic compilation of SF around Jewish themes, including halachic issues that just don't arise in day-to-day life like whether space aliens can convert (and, IIRC, managing the calendar on other planets). Some of my readers might be interested in the following speculative questions that have been asked on Judaism.StackExchange:

Does the torah discuss (space) aliens?

Time travel and Judaism

If a pig was genetically modified to chew its cud would it be kosher?

(I just posted these on an old entry in response to a comment (was cleaning out spam and noticed it), but I then thought they might be of more general interest.)

Edit:

The following were contributed by Isaac Moses in a comment:

Can a robot be your rabbi? (As if we don't have enough trouble with people thinking that a website can be a rabbi.)

Does Robot = Golem?

Can a robot be your official agent? Looks like your anthology can have a whole section on robots.

If you can drive a car using only your brain, can you do that on Shabbat?


And based on another comment, I just asked: When does somebody living in space observe shabbat?

The g'mara on today's daf discusses the prohibition of cooking on Shabbat. If a man placed meat on the coals on Shabbat and it was roasted, he is liable. How much has to be cooked? After discussion about whether it has to be cooked through or only on one side to count, Raba said that if it was roasted in one spot the size of a dried fig that is sufficient. There is further discussion in which either Raba or Rabina said that if it is roasted in two or three spots that together add up to the size of a dried fig, that too is a violation -- it doesn't have to be a single area. Rabina then compares this to boring a hole on Shabbat, which is prohibited regardless of the size of the hole, but the difference in these cases is not addressed here. (57a)

I had assumed that any amount of cooking would be prohibited. Of course, this might not be the last word on the subject.

Yes, that's how I'd like my erev Shabbat to be. More, please.

This week my congregation did something new, which we will do monthly. Out of a desire to reach out to more of the congregation, while recognizing that anything other than "same thing every week" will confuse some people, we're now doing the following: early tot shabbat (reaching out to young families), dinner, then a 7:00 service that's meant to be accessible to everyone without being dumbed-down for kids. Short d'var torah, no torah reading, opportunities for congregants to lead parts of the service (all English readings, this time), and an alternate set of said English readings that are a little less "lofty" than the ones in Mishkan T'filah.

That's actually not the part I liked. I think it can be made to work (though I don't think it will really reach me in particular), but the first one had some bumps and glitches. No, the other part of this is the new "Shabbat BaBayit" (Shabbat in the home) program, led by my rabbi starting at 8 in some congregant's home (different one each month). This is not a service per se; it's a gathering of a smaller number of people (as many as will fit in the house) with songs, stories, thought-provoking commentaries and discussions of same, and socializing. It is specifically for adults.

Because I'm part of the leadership of the congregation I felt an obligation to go to the service at the synagogue, at least for the first one. So I didn't make a reservation for the much-more-attractive Shabbat BaBayit because the timing didn't work. The host asked me about that and after I explained she said to come anyway; she was going to put out the desserts and stuff first, not last, and she thought I'd be able to get there without missing too much. And I did, and it was glorious, and I reluctantly left at about 10:15 because Dani would be wondering where I was (I hadn't expected it to go that long) and it was looking like a half-hour walk home, and now I want to go to all of them.

I can't go to all of them, alas. First, space is limited and I shouldn't be greedy no matter how badly I want to be, and second, not all of them will be where I can walk to them. The next one will be in Fox Chapel -- bummer. (I don't think I can impose on my rabbi, though the thought of stowing away in his car has some appeal. :-) ) But as often as I can, I want to have this thoughtful, intimate, adult-oriented, long-attention-span experience of Shabbat evening. Our morning minyan is wonderfully full of spirit and I have long been a little disappointed that we don't capture that on Friday night. Now we do.

I've never really been able to make the "home" part of Jewish life click. I think it's because one person isn't critical mass (or at least this one person); even when I invite a bunch of people over for Shabbat lunch, we don't manage this level of engagement. We have great conversations and sometimes they're even about torah, but it doesn't feel spiritual, merely social. (Social's not bad; I'd just like to go beyond.) I've been to occasional Shabbat meals in other homes where that spirit was there more, and they've always been families that probably do this together every week. Even if I could do that to Dani, which I can't, we don't have a core group of like-minded people who would get together to do this every week without being led by our rabbi.

But hey, once a month in months when it's within, say, two miles of my house, I can get a Shabbat evening that is matched only by our annual Shabbaton. Score!

Friday night I led services with our cantorial soloist. Both she and I were pleased with how it went, and I got several compliments afterward. I hope I will have more-frequent opportunities to do this.

One oddity, though -- somehow we picked up about ten minutes! I asked afterward and the consensus of people I trust to tell it to me straight is that no, I was not rushing. We do know that my rabbi is more prone than I am to fill in extra explanatory bits and the like; this is not a criticism of him by any means (it's not excessive or anything), but more a comment on my comparative lack of skill and tendency in this area. I just don't ad-lib as well, and he's done this about a bazillion times more than I have so he's had more practice.

It is possible that some of the time came from musical choices. Not clear. And we did start on time, because I'm like that. This doesn't always happen.

Saturday morning I led both torah study and the service. (The lay torah reader had a sore throat, so while she would have led part of the service normally, she asked me to do it.) The second rabbi was there for this and he seemed pleased with the job I did. Another member of the minyan plays guitar and led some of the singing; I'm happy to see her be more involved. The torah reader asked the rabbi to read haftarah (I think on account of her voice). I hadn't heard him read before; I really enjoyed listening to him. He read more expressively than I'm used to.

After I prepared for discussion of the post-flood rainbow, we didn't actually get there. This is the nature of Jews studying torah sometimes. :-) (We spent the entire half hour on the three or four verses immediately preceeding that part.)

Still not king a rabbi, but I get to do stuff anyway. :-)

My rabbi will be away for three Shabbatot this summer, with the first being this week. The (until-recently) associate rabbi has moved back to Israel, and the third rabbi is not looking for a large role on the bimah (though he will get some now). And the cantorial soloist has enjoyed co-leading with me in the past. So the two rabbis and the soloist all agreed that I could lead tomorrow night's service, and maybe others. I'll also be leading torah study and the morning service on Saturday; I wanted to spread that around by having someone else lead study, but it didn't work out. Our assignment is the rainbow in the Noach story; need to read up on midrash and commentary.

The third second rabbi will be present Shabbat morning, so with luck I'll get some constructive feedback, particularly on the torah study. He might come Friday night, or he might stay home with his family.

Meanwhile, for the other two times my rabbi is away there will be b'nei mitzvah. While the other rabbi is of course capable of reading torah, he doesn't feel the need to keep it to himself. So he asked me and another of the regular torah readers to read for those services. The bar mitzvah will read some, of course, but I'll be leaarning about 30 verses. This should be interesting; it may be the first tiny step toward bringing the regular morning congregation and the bar-mitzvah service together a bit.

I also just received my high-holy-day torah-reading assignment. This year they gave me Yom Kippur mincha (the afternoon service). Should be interesting to see how well I can chant that far into the fast.

I'm feeling pretty good about opportunities to lead currently. I hope we can keep some momentum going come fall/winter; I'd like to be leading services more than I am, and it sounds like there is interest from people other than me in my doing so. Nice.

This summer my congregation is starting Shabbat evening services earlier than normal. I'm not sure why this idea is popular, but ours isn't the only place doing it. (I don't mean not waiting until sunset when sunset is late; I mean moving the start time earlier than it is during the rest of the year.)

Personally, I find summer shabbatot long already (Saturday afternoon into evening is a long haul), so I'll only add 2+ hours onto the beginning if there's something in it for me. "Something in it for me" can mean a real d'var torah or sermon (aimed at adults, not dumbed down for kids), or a significant role in conducting the service (hard to get), or a new experience. So while I've gone to my congregation a couple times (once to support my rabbi in something, and once because our educator rabbi would be leading), I've also been seeking out new experiences elsewhere.

I've been to Tree of Life for their monthly music and to New Light (a 5-minute walk from my house), both Conservative. This week I sought out Young Israel. I had the impression that they were on the liberal end of Orthodox and that there might be singing and others my age. I'm not sure why I had those impressions.

Not knowing the lay of the land I dressed conservatively (I would never wear long sleeves in summer otherwise). Good call; black hats were the norm. Their entry way had only one door into the worship space (no separate women's entrance) and the women's section was on the far side, so I quietly opened and closed the door and tried to be unobtrusive while making my way over there. (Mincha had already started.) I saw no obvious place to get a siddur on my way past and didn't want to disturb any of the men standing there. (None of them looked at me.) On the women's side I found assorted books, which might have been people's personal copies, but there was no one there to ask. So I picked up an Artscroll siddur from on top of a bookcase and joined the service.

The service -- the remainder of mincha, then kabbalat shabbat, then ma'ariv -- was very matter-of-fact. There was a little bit of singing during kabbalat shabbat (not as much as I've seen at other Orthodox congregations). Mincha started at 7:30 and we were leaving the building by 8:30. I felt like I'd had a decent prayer experience personally, but didn't feel part of a community. No one greeted me as we were filing out, though someone did on the street half a block later.

I know that the conventional gender roles in the Orthodox community mean many women don't come Friday night, and if you want to meet a community you go Saturday morning. I have a place I'm very happy with for Saturday mornings, and I can't see anything currently that would cause me to skip that for someone else's regular service. (If there were a simcha involved for a friend that would of course be different.)

So far this summer, aside from the kallah, my Friday-night experiences have been "eh". They would have been "eh" if I'd gone to my own synagogue every week, so I haven't lost anything, but it's still a little disappointing. (On the other hand, it's confirmation that my own congregation is well above average when it's in "normal mode"...) Does anybody in this city celebrate Shabbat, as opposed to just getting through the service, at an hour that doesn't have one leaving the building with the sun high in the sky?

(Yes, I know you're allowed to accept Shabbat early. Coming out of ma'ariv into sunlight feels weird to me, and as I said before, I'm reluctant to add a couple hours to Shabbat this time of year.)

Oh well. There are still a few weeks left in which to explore.

I chanted torah and gave the d'var torah yesterday. (I'll post the d'var separately.) I read the Akeidah, the binding of Yitzchak, which is a challenging passage.

The text itself is pretty sparse: God decides to test Avraham, telling him to offer up his son Yitzchak as a burnt offering in a land some distance away. Avraham gets up in the morning, gathers what he'll need, and heads off with Yitzchak and two servant-boys. Three days pass and then they arrive. Avraham tells the servants "wait here and we'll return". Avraham and Yitzchak head up together, and Yitzchak asks "err, dad, where's the lamb?" and Avraham dodges. Avraham builds an altar and binds Yitzchak on it, and just as he's about to slaughter his son an angel cries out "stop!". Avraham sees a ram and offers it instead. The angel then tells Avraham that he'll be rewarded through his descendants -- they'll be as numerous as the stars or as grains of sand on the shore, they'll possess the gates of their foes, and everyone will be blessed through them. Avraham then heads back to the servants (Yitzchak is not mentioned) and they leave for Be'er Sheva, where Avraham will live.

It says somewhere in the talmud that a sage who can't find 150 reasons for a beetle to be kosher is no sage at all. I don't have 150 interpretations of the Akeidah, but I can see more than one. Here's the one I brought out in my chanting:

God gives this command. Avraham reluctantly heads off to comply; God gives him three days to stew over it (either to be sure or to bail). Yitzchak questions him and, with tears in his eyes, he says "God's in charge". Once they arrive and things are set in motion, though, Avraham's approach changes: it's like pulling the big sticky bandage off your skin; you can try to do it slowly and make things worse, or you can just grit your teeth and yank. I read it as Avraham gritting his teeth and trying to get it over with, which is why the angel had to rush in (calling from heaven instead of arriving) and had to call Avraham's name twice. After a tense moment, Avraham snaps out of it and says "yes?". For the first time Avraham looks up and sees the ram, which he offers up in place of his son, while Yitzchak sits by, stunned. The angel gives his promise, Yitzchak bolts, and Avraham returns alone, knowing he can't go home to his wife now.

Last time I read it I read it differently, and presumably next time will be different too. Torah is like that.

Even though I made some mistakes and had to be corrected, I think this went pretty well and I got lots of compliments. People appreciated the effort I put into reading it interpretively. (They didn't have the text in front of them, so I gave a summary and some keywords to listen for in advance.) I'd like to be able to share that reading with interested friends, though I'm not sure how to do that usefully for folks not fluent in Hebrew. If I produced an audio file, is there an easy way to turn it into a video with "subtitles" timed to the chanting?

We had a visiting rabbi this morning. (Not known in advance and not official; this was a relative of a member of the minyan.) I noticed that she was very quietly chanting along with me. Alas, she and her family left right after the service, so I didn't get a chance to talk with her. It did strike me that, usually accidentally, the more-knowledgeable-than-most-laypeople visitors tend to show up disproportionately on my weeks. Hmm. (It's not always accidental; there was one time we were having a visiting cantor who declined the offer to chant the portion, and consensus was that I was the congregant least likely to freak.)

I found the first 40% of Rabbi Eric Yoffie's sermon at the URJ biennial an interesting read. (The rest isn't uninteresting, but it's not my focus here.) He talks about increasing the importance of Shabbat in our communities. He's saying some things I've been saying for years, which is gratifying. (More people listen to him than to me, after all.)

When we undertook to revive Erev Shabbat worship, our intention was not to focus solely on a single hour of Friday night prayer. Erev Shabbat was to be the key, opening the door to a discussion of the Shabbat day in all its dimensions. [...] With members returning to the synagogue on Friday nights, we had hoped that some of them would also be drawn to our Shabbat morning prayer and to a serious conversation about the meaning of Shabbat. But this has not happened, and we all know one reason why that is so:

He goes on to talk about the bar-mitzvah service as typically seen in Reform congregations. What usually happens is that the celebrating family "owns" the service, so the rest of the community doesn't come because we feel shut out, so the family feels justified in claiming everything ("they don't come anyway"), so the bar mitzvah stops being about welcoming the child into his new role in the community. Rabbi Yoffie writes: "At the average bar mitzvah what you almost always get is a one-time assemblage of well-wishers with nothing in common but an invitation." I wasn't there at the formation, but I assume this is one of the reasons that our informal Shabbat-morning minyan formed: we have a regular community (with enough infusions to avoid becoming stagnant) that celebrates its members' milestones but feels no need to go upstairs afterwards. I go to shul on Shabbat morning to celebrate Shabbat in community, not to attend the theatre.

What typically happens in Orthodox and Conservative congregations, on the other hand, is that the bar mitzvah is a part of the community service: we celebrate with the family, but the family celebrates with the community. The focus is on Shabbat, not on the child. I have seen this work beautifully. It's not absent in Reform congregations (I saw it once at Holy Blossom in Toronto), but it's sure not the norm.

So what are we going to do about it? Rabbi Yoffie has brought the conversation to a broader forum (we've been talking about this problem in our congregations and on mailing lists for years). Rabbi Yoffie wisely recognizes it as part of a bigger issue: the place of Shabbat in the lives of modern, liberal Jews.

Also, other approaches to enhancing Jewish life have failed. Communal leaders outside of the synagogue love to talk the language of corporate strategy. They engage in endless debates on the latest demographic study. They plan elaborate conferences and demand new ideas. But sometimes we don't need new ideas; we need old ideas. We need less corporate planning and more text and tradition; less strategic thinking and more mitzvot; less demographic data and more Shabbat. Because we know, in our hearts, that in the absence of Shabbat, Judaism withers.

He talks about the importance of the whole day of Shabbat, not just the hour or three you spend at services. Hear, here. The URJ is trying to start this conversation in individual congregations, creating study programs and focus groups who will try, really try, to explore a more-meaningful Shabbat and report back. I'd love to be part of that conversation in my own congregation, should it happen. I already take Shabbat seriously, but there's still plenty to learn. And one of my biggest challenges is the shortage of a community that wants to keep doing Shabbat after morning services end. Shabbat afternoons, especially in the summer, can be pretty lonely for me.

Renewing some form of regular Shabbat observance among the members of our Movement will take time, and what we are proposing is only the first step. The plan is to begin with a chosen few and to heat the core, in the hope that the heat generated will then radiate in ever-widening circles.

But surely we must begin. Shabbat, after all, is not just a nice idea. It is a Jewish obligation and one of the Ten Commandments -- indeed the longest and most detailed of them all.

Where will it go? I don't know, but I'm glad to see people talking about it.