Finding a Voice — Women of the Wall, 1 Sivan 5773 – May 10, 2013

My first trip to Israel in 1982 was the fulfillment of a dream. As a child I had fallen in love with the idea of Israel. Finally, I could breathe-in the link between all Jews — past, present and future.

I remember standing at the Kotel (Western Wall) and feeling the bond of history and peoplehood course through my veins.  But that summer I also came to realize that something was wrong. I am a progressive Jew, accustomed to egalitarian prayer and ritual. My Judaism was not allowed at the Kotel, and not accommodated in Israeli law or culture. I felt like a Jewish outsider in the Jewish nation. The air of judgment became increasingly alienating.

I believe that my Reconstructionist Jewish views are an authentic expression of Jewish faith and practice. There is a danger in the legal and cultural codification of Orthodoxy as the only authentic Judaism in Israel. Pluralism, which honors the diversity of beliefs and expressions within Judaism, is extremely important in sustaining the health and well being of Jewish civilization.

The Kotel has come to represent a failure of Jewish pluralism and the Jewish-Democratic ideal of the modern State of Israel. This failure alienates many secular Israelis from Judaism, and many American Jews from Israel as our people’s spiritual home.

And so I was drawn to the Women of the Wall, joining them in monthly Rosh Hodesh prayer whenever possible. I have been there to witness the hostility of Haredi men and women, and even the police, whose intense presence has been unfriendly. Still, we sang our hearts out, above the enmity that surrounded us – even as members of the group have recently been arrested with increasing frequency. I witnessed Anat Hoffman’s arrest for carrying a Torah scroll in the Kotel plaza a few years ago, and the arrest of some women wearing a tallit. Each time I davenned with Women of the Wall (wearing tallit and kippah, as is my custom) I was moved by the beauty of the women’s prayer and the pain of the situation.

Rosh Hodesh Sivan, May 10, 2013, was a turning point. Arriving on a van arranged by Women of Wall, we found a new reality at the Kotel plaza. We did not wait in long security lines while guards looked for ritual garb in our bags, as had become standard. They ushered us through quickly. Police officers immediately escorted us through the plaza.

This time, the police were there to protect us, and their demeanor was entirely different. We faced the presence of many thousands of Haredi girls and young men who had come on the orders of their rabbis. Their early arrival succeeded in blocking us from the divided “synagogue” that is the Kotel prayer area. So the police ushered us to the front of the Kotel plaza. Ironically, this effectively created an egalitarian minyan – the men who came to support us, who would have typically been standing on the other side of the barrier, were now standing alongside us. A few ventured into the midst of our tightly assembled group.

While thousands of young men who came to protest shouted loudly and blew whistles, we sang in full voice. The sound of our own prayers filled our ears, and uplifted our souls. With police protection, we prayed freely with our preferred ritual garb — many kippot and tallitot, and some tefillin. We celebrated a young woman’s bat mitzvah and sang and danced with the bat mitzvah family. All of this was not possible just a month ago. The changing air of history was palpable.

Leaving the Kotel plaza, we faced the intense hostility of the surrounding Haredi crowd. As we were hurried onto a waiting bus, the dangers became more evident. When a large rock was thrown at the bus, along with other projectiles, and Haredi young men surrounded and banged on the bus, cursing us, middle fingers pointed our way, I was sickened by fear and grief. With police protection, we rode away to the comfort of Mamilla mall.

In the past two weeks, as the traumas from that morning have subsided, one feeling has emerged prominently. That is the joy from the chorus of our voices and the success of our activism. The prayers of Women of the Wall are an ascendant voice.

Thirty-one years and 26 trips after my first visit to Israel, my feelings of alienation are subsiding. The voices of Women of the Wall have elevated the struggle for Jewish religious freedom in Israel, and I am exhilarated to have the opportunity to be a part of it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

National Interreligious Statement for Israeli-Palestininan Peace

NILI Public Statement – January 2013

Twilight of Hope for Israeli-Palestinian Peace

Twilight has fallen on the possibility of a two-state solution to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.  As Jewish, Christian and Muslim religious leaders committed to peace, we urge immediate, sustained U.S. leadership before darkness falls on the hopes for a peaceful resolution.

We recently witnessed shadows of dusk.  We mourn for the lives lost and shattered during the violence that gripped southern Israel and Gaza. What we have seen, recently and before, will keep happening if movement towards a viable two state-solution continues to stagnate.  The status quo is unsustainable and dangerous to both Israelis and Palestinians.  Now is not the time for another cycle of recriminations.  It is time to break the cycle of violence with bold initiatives for peace.

The current dangerous stalemate, including the legacy of past failed peacemaking efforts, undermines our security and that of others, destabilizes the region, amplifies the voices of extremists vying for power, legitimizes terrorists and extremists, allows continuing Israeli settlement expansion that is making a contiguous Palestinian state increasingly difficult to achieve,  and prolongs Palestinian disunity.    These realities and the absence of negotiations threaten to kill the prospect of a viable two-state peace agreement, the only realistic solution to the conflict.

As people of faith, we proclaim that we should never underestimate what is possible.  Egypt and the United States helped achieve a ceasefire in Gaza. With the support of the international community, Israelis and Palestinians can achieve a lasting peace.  A new dawn is possible.

As members of the National Interreligious Leadership Initiative for Peace in the Middle East (NILI), we affirm President Obama’s support for a negotiated two-state peace agreement that provides for a secure and recognized Israel living in peace alongside a viable and independent Palestinian state.

We know the challenges are daunting, but we believe a bold new initiative for an Israeli-Palestinian peace settlement should be an immediate priority of the new Administration in 2013.  We fear the opportunity for a peaceful resolution is rapidly waning and the current stagnation fuels and legitimizes the rejectionists on both sides. Our nation has unique leverage and credibility in the region.  Indeed, no past progress towards peace has occurred in this conflict without U.S. leadership, facilitation or staunch support.   Once again, we need active, fair and firm U.S. leadership to help break the current deadlock and to achieve a two-state peace agreement now before it is too late.

The Jewish, Christian and Muslim religious leaders of NILI are committed to mobilizing broad public support for U.S. leadership for peace, and, as we have done in the past, will mobilize the strong support that exists in churches, synagogues and mosques across the country to resound in the public square in affirmation of bold leadership.

Twilight is upon us; but the hope for a new dawn remains.  Let us together bring the new light of hope and work for negotiations leading to a final status agreement.

 

Lessons from the Storm

It is now one month since Hurricane Sandy. Yet many conversations still begin with a recounting of personal experiences after the storm. It feels like we are recovering from a collective post traumatic stress.

It was a challenging couple of weeks, but still I am mindful that many people had it so much worse than I did. For some, the total devastation is more than a story of a lost month. Our personal experiences in enduring the storm’s destruction has made us that much more aware of the suffering of those who lost so much. We have a heightened sympathy for their suffering and their needs.

Sympathy was shared in abundance during the days immediately after the storm. Everyone was trying to be in touch with friends, neighbors and community as much as possible. People reached out to help each other in extraordinary ways.  We shared our homes, our cars, our food, our generators, and companionship.  Some even shared precious gasoline for those in desperate need. Neighbors connected in ways that recalled a lost era of neighborhood relationships.

We shared our warm synagogue building for several days.  Some people who had generators or just plain good luck stopped by anyway for companionship.  We shared the emotional challenges of cold and dark homes, long gas lines, impossible commutes, and in some cases, damaged homes. The kids learned that it’s not such fun to have schools closed for so long, and we offered a place for families to play together.  It was comforting at even fun at times.

We shared a beautiful Shabbat dinner thanks to the fast work of a couple of people, and a crew who spontaneously helped them to prepare. The warmth of the community experience that night will not soon be forgotten.

The long line for gasoline at the gas station up the street from the synagogue caught our attention and we realized we had an opportunity to provide hospitality (it took an average of 3 hours to get gas for a few days.) A group from our synagogue went out with pots of coffee in hand to offer warmth to folks waiting in line. This simple act of kindness made such an impression on the people in their cars. I was so touched and proud to witness it.

The next morning there was a very long line waiting for the gas station, based on just a rumor that it would open. Many people had gotten out of their cars to chat with each other. I went out and offered that folks could come in for coffee or the bathroom as needed. Over the next hour many people came in to use the facilities and they were so grateful.  The gas station never did open that day, but the shared sympathy lightened the day just a bit.

At our synagogue board meeting we talked about the lessons we had learned. A new committee will work on a plan for building access and supplies for future emergencies. We realized that despite all the attempts to communicate using email and our Facebook group, we need to have everyone’s cell phone numbers so we can activate a phone chain. We appreciated the opportunity to help one another – and now we want to do a better job in the future.  That is community at its best.

In a crisis, the best in people can come out.  But after watching one driver butt into the gasoline line at the front; after hearing stories of people forcefully pushing each other in order to get onto crowded trains and buses, I realized that these crises can also bring out the worst in us.  Our fears animated our desire to help each other, but sometimes also ignited ugly selfishness.

Rebbe Nachman of Bratzlav was famously quoted as saying, “The world is a very narrow bridge. The essential thing is to have no fear at all.”  How fortunate we are to have a spiritual community that helps us to animate our best responses to fear and need. Sympathy and sharing: that is a lesson worth remembering from this experience.

 

Prepare Yourself!

Summer vacation – a quiet time for synagogue life while many of us scatter to our various vacation spots, near and far. Some opine that God has gone on vacation in the summer, feeling the stillness of the synagogue, especially in August.

But it couldn’t be further from the truth. The glory of the ocean, the grandeur of the mountains, the companionship of friends, the joy of family time together and more – all resonate with heightened spiritual potential. The time “off” that we may squeeze out, whether it is a day, a weekend, or weeks, is a restful window into Shabbat, as we separate from the daily stresses of our ordinary lives. There is holiness there.

Some of us have spent time at Jewish camps or on trips to Israel that offer an organic Jewish rhythm of time around the sacred space of Shabbat. In the enveloping space, we find joyful, contemplative prayer. Some of our CBH kids have come home from Camp JRF telling me that their favorite part is “Shabbat.” They have internalized the power of these experiences. Folks coming back from Family Camp and trips to Israel are often filled with a sense of awe that wasn’t attainable in other parts of their lives.

So here we are, with summer about to end, and the spiritual air is electric. It is about to be Rosh Hashanah. How can we collect all of those sacred sparks and make the entrance into the New Year spiritually rich, engaging, meaningful and awe-some?

It is time to prepare. The final month of the year, Elul, is dedicated to self-reflection, in anticipation of the season of change and repentance. How can we bring the rested, spiritually alive, joy-filled experiences of summer to this contemplation? How can we hold onto the feeling of replenishment when we enter the season of new beginnings?

First, we can remain present. This takes conscious effort, but it’s well worth it. Use the time with family and friends to talk about the best experiences of summer and the opportunities for growth afforded by vacations. Share photos and keep them visually present in our homes and offices – the memories don’t have to fade as soon as we get back to school and work. This August I just made an album of the photos from last summer’s Vermont hiking trip that I took with my kids. Upon seeing it, my younger said remarked that he had no memory of there even being a camera on the trip. We smiled together as the pictures took us back to those four days up a mountain in the rain. We did it – together. Remembering it was like fuel for the upcoming days when we would all scatter once again to our separate and busy lives.

Second, we can bring the joy, the quiet, the love and friendship, and the warmth of summer to our High Holy Day worship. The High Holy Days are called “The Days of Awe”. Celebrating the metaphorical “Birthday of the World”, our hearts open to awe, gratitude and humility. This is where we find God – through the open-hearted feeling of wonder at the gift of life and possibilities for renewal of spirit each year, even each day.

Our Days of Awe are a re-creation of the spontaneous, multi-sensory experiences of prayer that grab us in the spaces between the tasks of our lives. Now we just have to remain awake – spiritually –to feel the transformation that awaits us in those experiences. Elul is a time to prepare – but not necessarily by a sharp turn in spiritual consciousness. Coming at the end of the summer, Elul is a call to remember and hold dear the touching moments of quiet. Now we are ready – it is time for the call of the shofar to move us to the next level. May it be filled with holiness, transformation, possibilities, and joy.

Leshanah Tovah U’me’tukah,
Warm wishes for a sweet and happy New Year.

 

Na Laga’at

In the charming Jerusalem neighborhood called the German Colony, where I stayed for July, it is very common to see old men and women out for a walk. Often accompanied by a “mitapelet” (a personal aide), some using walkers or holding an arm or being pushed in a wheelchair, or just slowly walking alone, very feeble old people take their place on the walkways of the neighborhood. It was particularly striking to me since I don’t generally see the weak and aged out for walks in our suburban neighborhoods in New Jersey. On my early morning Jerusalem walks I sped by many a bent-over, slowly ambulating person. I felt a heightened sense of connection to them as we shared the same streets.

I developed an awareness of the connection of the generations in community that was different than any I have had before. I learned to not always rush as I walk — not easy for a person like me; I like to walk fast. When you have to share narrow walkways with the weak and elderly, you owe a certain respect, with care and caution.

American culture does not create and foster community between the young and the old. Weak and infirm elderly often live in their own communities or institutions that “take care” of them. We do the same for disabled adults as well — they are invisible to most of our society.

So it was also very moving to spend an evening in a place called “Na Laga’at” in the Jaffa Port, south of Tel Aviv. “Na Laga’at” means “please touch”. It is a center created to teach about the lives and challenges of the disabled while also providing opportunities for work and dignity for Israelis who are blind, deaf, or both. The center has three sections: a theatre that shows an acclaimed show where all of the actors are severely hearing and sight impaired. The second section is a cafe where all of the waiters are deaf. The third section is the “Black Out” restaurant that is completely dark inside — there is absolutely no difference between keeping your eyes open or closed. The waiters are all blind or severely visually impaired. But since the waiters have learned to navigate their world, they are at a distinct advantage in the blacked-out setting.

When the waiter escorts you from the darkened anteroom into the restaurant, you have to hold onto one another. You have to feel everything carefully on the table. The waiter told us to pour water from the pitcher into our glasses by putting our fingers into the top of the glasses to feel for the water. He joked — if you feel it on your legs, you poured too much. When our meals arrived he encouraged us to use our fingers as much as we wanted, and we quickly learned how the utensils and social mores of “civilized” dining are so linked to and limited by the ability to see. We ate more slowly and deliberately and savored flavors differently.

We chatted with our waiter after the meal. He told us that foundation funding supports the center for about 30% of their budget. I asked him if they advertise across Israel. His reply was a pleasant surprise: “Oh, no, we are famous across Israel” he told us. The place is crowded –you need a reservation many days in advance. Israelis say their tiny little country is just a big community, so it makes sense that news travels fast. But my American ears heard something else in his comment — the integrated community of young and old, able-bodied and otherly-abled people are a more natural part of the landscape of their society. They still have many challenges in attitudes and quality of life for people with disabilities — otherwise Na Laga’at wouldn’t need to be an education center. But it also seemed to me that there is a more organic community structure in Israel. “Please touch” reminds everyone: “please include me.”

Public buses in Israel have prominent signs in the front sections that say “mipnei seivah takum” מפני שיבה תקום meaning, “get up for the elderly”. We are supposed to do that in America also. But I have been moved to see how quickly and thoughtfully people of all ages and backgrounds cede their seats on empty and crowded buses alike in Israel. People pay attention to this need.

Please touch, Please notice me, Please help, Please include me…all are an invitation to an inclusive and caring society. It’s a lesson in Jewish values worth noticing.

 

How’s Your Vision?

I was an unusually clumsy toddler. My parents were concerned about the frequency with which I walked into furniture, so they consulted doctors who diagnosed severe nearsightedness and eye coordination problems.  From the age of twenty-two months I wore glasses. Eye surgery and years of regular visits to eye hospitals for muscle-training exercises addressed the coordination problems. So I know all too well the importance of vision. I am grateful for my ability to see, and feel tremendous sympathy for those who cannot.

This year I welcomed cataract surgery — it enabled correction of my vision so well that I rarely even need reading glasses. What a blessing to be able to see! Given where I have come from, you can imagine my glee at newfound vision.

I also have an appreciation for the use of the term “vision” in the context of organizational planning.  We have to see where we need to go in order to get there without bumping into the furniture.

In the Jewish world today, there is a profound need to for clearer vision.  We are all experiencing dramatic cultural changes that impact our individual and communal needs and interests and beliefs and values.  The goals and programs of synagogues and Jewish community centers of a generation ago are no longer working very well.  Just as all of us with visual impairments have to have our eyes checked for updated prescriptions or procedures so that we can see, our community needs a check-up. What is our vision going to be?

We have to be willing to look beyond the borders of our habits and imagine a new horizon.  There is no time for trying to jury-rig our current way of being to try to force it to fit into some safe, known formula.  The needs of our times are too great. The conflicts and economic challenges in our world are impacting us all so greatly; the moral direction of our society is all too murky.  We need see our way through to a clearer sense of life’s meaning and purpose through religious devotion and spiritual community that guides and comforts us. If our spiritual communities can’t do this, then what purpose do they have?

Why pray?  How can I pray? These are questions that we need to address as individuals and as a community.  How can we mine the resources of centuries of liturgical innovation to help us craft a devotional experience that is engaging, meaningful and compelling. Our prayer should provide comfort, joy, reflection, renewal and direction.  The words of our siddur (prayer book) were created to do all this, and much more. But what good are they if we just don’t “get it?”   We need a new vision of prayer that touches the heart and the head.

Why should we educate our children in the heritage and traditions of our people? How should we? What is the goal?   The old model of Jewish education as a supplement to the home where Judaism was observed is no longer meeting this generation’s needs. (Jewish afternoon schools are often referred to as “Supplementary Schools”.) We need new a vision – towards clarity about why we teach our children what it means to be a Jew, and the facilitation of structures that engages the whole family in lived Jewish experiences. There is so much to be passed to our children – and us – from the riches of Jewish thinking about values and ethics and purpose and identity.  Clear vision will guide us to the gems of Jewish ideas and lessons – anything less will just keep us clumsily searching and frustrated.

Congregation Beth Hatikvah has been spending a great deal of time in the past several months on new visioning for our Shabbat/Friday night and for our Religious School. Two committees of our congregation’s leaders are bringing their experience in leading the synagogue and their life experience to parse these questions. Their courage to think broadly and outside of the boundaries of habit is matched by their smart and insightful contributions to the conversation and their devotion to the community.  A new vision is taking shape.

Four several generations, the sages of the Talmud were engaged in a dialogue about Jewish life and ideas. Their debates and insights shaped a new vision for the Jewish people during a time of tremendous change. Our dialogue and insights can be informed and inspired by them. In that way, our vision will be clear and forward-thinking and our future will be as strong as our past.

 

Ninety Plus Seventy Plus Forty =

We’ve arrived!  Jewish women, that is. After generations of wilderness for Jewish women, two great events of the twentieth century helped to bring us to the Promised Land.  Both are being celebrated this spring, and it is a happy time to be a liberated Jewish woman.

Ninety years ago Rabbi Mordecai Kaplan, the innovative, courageous rabbi who dared to integrate the best of American values into Jewish life, brought his daughter Judith to the front of the congregation as a bat mitzvah.  It was the 1922, long before “Womens’ Lib” and feminism.  Judith was the oldest of four daughters, and at 12 years old, she was a still a child following her father’s directions. Only later could she become an activist, noted as an influential Jewish musicologist.

There is a tradition for men to celebrate the 70^th anniversary of their becoming a bar mitzvah.  It’s a sweet and extremely meaningful life passageway. Judith Kaplan Eisenstein had a chance to embrace the role of bat mitzvah at a 70^th anniversary service and celebration in 1992.  I had the privilege of being present at Judith’s second bat mitzvah, when the 82-year-old Judith read from the Torah (unlike her first time, when that was still unimaginable.) We still recall her heartfelt and moving devar Torah.  Those of us who gathered in a hall in Queens near the old World’s Fair grounds, were profoundly honored to share in celebrating not only a remarkable woman, but a life-altering moment in history that has changed American Judaism and women’s lives.

What a celebration of courage, innovation and Reconstructionism! Yes, that too — as Judith’s father, Rabbi Kaplan, was the influential rabbi who developed the ideas of Reconstructionist Judaism.

It took 50 years from Kaplan’s courageous revolution to reach the next great milestone.  In 1972 the first woman rabbi, Rabbi Sally Priesand, was ordained in the USA.  While Rabbi Regina Jonas had preceded Rabbi Priesand as the first woman rabbi, she had been ordained in Berlin in the 1930’s by a small, courageous group of liberal rabbis.  Tragically, Rabbi Jonas was murdered by the Nazi’s. Her story was nearly lost along with the community she so lovingly served in Germany of the camps. When Rabbi Priesand was ordained by Hebrew Union College – Jewish Institute of Religion, many people thought she was truly the first.  Of course, she was — for us American Jews.  Her ordination, with all of the controversy and publicity it generated, was indeed a liminal moment for us. American Judaism and American Jews would never be the same again. Women rabbis would begin to change the face of Jewish leadership and Judaism itself.

Forty years ago when Rabbi Priesand was ordained, I was just a one-year out from my own bat mitzvah.  I had already had the benefit of Judith’s 1922 milestone, and despite the fact that there were no female role models for me in the Jewish community; it seemed absolutely natural to me that a woman should be ordained. When I heard that Rabbi Priesand had been ordained, I instantly announced that I would follow her lead and someday become a rabbi.

 

I am deeply indebted to Sally Priesand and all of the women who walked the path before my rabbinic ordination in 1987. During those first 15 years many of them endured prejudice and resistance. But they brought open hearts, incredibly smart heads, unbridled courage and passion for leading the Jewish world with new talent. We have all been transformed by their leadership. The relational, nurturing style that they have brought to the rabbinate has more than changed Jewish communities – it has facilitated a continued vibrancy for a community struggling with rapid change.

A month from now I will celebrate my own milestone – 25 years in the rabbinate. Personally, I feel tremendous gratitude to Judith and to Rabbis Sally, and Regina and to my friend Sandy Eisenberg Sasso (the first Reconstructionist woman rabbi, ordained in 1974.)   What a great season of celebration. After the wilderness of generations, we have arrived. We thank the Source of Life for enabling us to reach this moment!