Being Ready for the Call - Friday Kavvanah, 12/30/2011

Having just returned yesterday from Israel, I was up quite early this morning, and it afforded me plenty of quiet time while the family was still asleep.  I read pretty carefully through Parashat Vayyigash, and through my jet-lagged haze spotted the following (Genesis 46:2):

וַיֹּאמֶר יַעֲקֹב יַעֲקֹב; וַיֹּאמֶר, הִנֵּנִי
God called to Israel in a vision by night: "Jacob!  Jacob!"  He answered, "Here I am."

The dialogue is a precise echo of the end of the Aqedah, the story of the binding of Isaac (Genesis 22:11):

וַיִּקְרָא אֵלָיו מַלְאַךְ יְהוָה, מִן-הַשָּׁמַיִם, וַיֹּאמֶר, אַבְרָהָם אַבְרָהָם; וַיֹּאמֶר, הִנֵּנִי
Then an angel of the Lord called to him from heaven: "Abraham!  Abraham!"  And he answered, "Here I am."

Even the trope marks (the Masoretic accents that historically clarify the text and today indicate chanting melody) are identical, including the "pesiq," the vertical line placed between the repeated names, indicating a luftpause, a break for air that audibly recalls the beat separating them as the story unfolds in real time.

Why the exact repetition?  The biblical author surely wants us to connect the two stories.  Abraham is about to slaughter his son Isaac; his grandson Jacob is about to leave Canaan, the land that has been promised to each of the Patriarchs, to go down to Egypt for Lord knows how long.  Each is a hugely significant moment, lush with personal and national meaning, and the readiness of both characters to answer to God's call is formidable. Both are moments when God's voice is not expected, but clearly needed.

Some Jews come to the synagogue on a regular basis to communicate with God, but how many of us are ready to answer God's call to us when it comes?  Rabbi David Kimhi (aka Radaq, 1160-1235 in Provence) comments that here God calls Jacob's name twice because it had been so many years since Jacob had received any kind of prophecy, and thus he was probably not expecting to hear God's voice again.

Similarly, if God calls on any of us, would we hear it?  Shabbat shalom.


~
Rabbi Seth Adelson

The Reinvention of Hanukkah

Hanukkah is a wonderful example of the resilience of Judaism, and the Jewish imperative to reinterpret our tradition in every generation.  A minor holiday that had been largely neglected by American Jews in the late 19th century - an article in the Yiddish daily Forverts in 1904 pointed to the giving of Christmas gifts in Jewish homes as "one of the first things that proves one is no longer a greenhorn" - Hanukkah underwent a kind of renaissance in the middle of the 20th century.  (See Jenna Weissman Joselit's article in Reform Judaism.)  Sociologist Marshall Sklare observed in the 1960s that the lighting of Hanukkah candles, a relatively unimportant mitzvah when compared to, say, kashrut or Shabbat, was the only Jewish practice whose observance was increasing from generation to generation.  To this day, lighting Hanukkah candles remains the most widely-performed Jewish activity in America.


And what is it about Hanukkah that caused its resurgent popularity?  Sklare pointed to its proximity to December 25, which allowed a somewhat obscure holiday to be redefined, more or less, as "the Jewish Christmas," allowing Jewish parents to placate their otherwise gift-less children under a kosher rubric.  (As one who grew up in a particularly non-Jewish town, with parents who did not embrace the American presents-for-Hanukkah custom, I recall distinctly the pain of December in my earlier years.)

But perhaps there is something else there.  The powerful, universal symbol of lighting lights during a dark time of year, coupled with the message of Jewish victory in the face of another conquering adversary, and further bolstered by the pleasure of a home-based Jewish activity that is not overly-burdened with extensive, complex rituals all make Hanukkah an easy sell, the low-hanging latke of the Jewish calendar.

Hanukkah is the Jewish answer to Seasonal Affective Disorder: a beacon of joy in an otherwise depressing period.  Make a berakhah or two, kindle some candles, and sing a song.  It's good for you!  Hag urim sameah - happy Festival of Lights.


~
Rabbi Seth Adelson
(Originally published in the Temple Israel Voice, 12/8/2011.)

Report from Israel: Buses, Burkas, and the Badatz

The State of Israel, once ahead of the curve in embracing women as equal participants in society, seems to be backsliding.  There are a handful of Haredi women wearing burkas, to the consternation of their (only male) rabbis; there is concern over the disappearance of female images in public spaces in Jerusalem; and two days ago an Egged bus (the main public bus company) was delayed for half an hour while a woman refused to move to the back at the behest of a Haredi man, who held the door open so the bus could not move.  According to news reports, the driver seemed reluctant to intervene, and when the police arrived, the situation was only compounded when the officer asked the woman to comply so the bus could go.  Unfortunately, this case is far from isolated:

Egged spokesman Ron Ratner condemned the incident, but said such incidents were increasing and that Egged's directives clearly prohibit the driver from "permitting or creating any separation on the bus unless it is voluntary," and instructing to call the police in such cases. Ratner advised [the woman, Tanya] Rosenblit to submit a complaint to Egged's ombudsman so the incident could be scrutinized more closely.

(Here's the rest of the article from today's Haaretz.)


Ms. Rosenblit's run-in is just icing on the cake.  This past weekend's Jerusalem Post Magazine contained two pieces (by Israel Kasnett and Naomi Ragen) that referenced the so-called "Taliban women" who are taking themselves out of the picture.  The burka case is now well-known, but both articles point to additional instances of radical modesty: a woman who refused to give birth in a hospital, lest the wrong person see her inappropriately attired, and another woman who had just been married (and was divorced soon after, according to Ragen):

But after the wedding, the bride, also a veil-wearer, said it wasn’t possible for her to go to the mikve (ritual bath) because that would require her not only to take off her veil, but to actually immerse naked in the water. Quite reasonable, don’t you think? The groom, apparently not on such a high spiritual level, didn’t agree, and found another, more willing veiled woman to take her place.

Shocking, and yet, as Ragen points out, these women have been cajoled to this point by the Badatz, the same Haredi leaders who are now denouncing them.

Meanwhile, the women's supplement editor of a Haredi magazine, Roni Shub, declared herself on the opinion pages of Haaretz to be proudly liberated while living modestly in Israeli society, in which wanton sexuality and the objectification of women are rampant.  She writes, "Iran is not yet here, but in the sacred public square, Sodom and Gomorrah already are."  She certainly has a point, but if thinking like this causes women to withdraw rather than fight for their right to be fully integrated and visible, I might be forced to opt for Gomorrah.


As if to highlight Shub's point, there was an investigative report last night on Israeli television (I never have time to watch TV in America!) about forced prostitution in Israel, and one particularly troubling story of a woman who was taken under false pretenses from Uzbekistan to serve ten clients a day in a seedy hotel in Ashdod.  After falling ill with pneumonia, she was rescued and returned to her parents' home in Tashkent, where she died soon after arriving.  (The family just won a lawsuit against the State of Israel, seven years after her death.)  That such horrific crimes occur in Israel (and all over the world) is not new information; in light of all of the above, however, this tale paints in stark colors Ms. Shub's portrait of increased segregation of women in the face of inappropriate sexuality in the public sphere.  


I call your attention to this not to throw mud at Israel, Israelis, or the Badatz, but rather to suggest that we as Jews, those in the Diaspora and those in Israel, recall that the work of moving society forward is never complete, that we should never take for granted what was achieved in the last century.  The egalitarianism that is vaunted in the progressive corner of the Jewish world empowers some women, but there are many more corners that are less enlightened.  With apologies to Pirqei Avot 2:2, here is a point where it is indeed up to all of us to finish the task.


(Supplemental reading: Rabbi David Golinkin's teshuvah on the issue of hearing women's voices, issued following the incident in September 2011 where observant male officer cadets in the IDF left a performance of a military entertainment troupe because they objected to hearing a solo woman singing.)


~
Rabbi Seth Adelson

Food for Thought - Photos & Commentary from my Youth House Class

As a part of my class at Temple Israel's Waxman High School and Youth House about making good contemporary food choices based on Jewish values, we took photos of ourselves with food products.  Some of these products are labeled with positive terms regarding sustainability and reasonable treatment of employees and animals; some of the labels are, at best, misleading.

Most of the label definitions below come from http://www.sustainabletable.org/intro/dictionary/.

"All Natural" - Currently, no standards exist for this label except when used on meat and poultry products. USDA guidelines state that “Natural” meat and poultry products can only undergo minimal processing and cannot contain artificial colors, artificial flavors, preservatives, or other artificial ingredients. However, “natural” foods are not necessarily sustainable, organic, humanely raised, or free of hormones and antibiotics. The label “natural” is virtually meaningless.

"Organic" - In order to be labeled “organic,” a product, its producer, and the farmer must meet the USDA’s organic standards and must be certified by a USDA-approved food-certifying agency. Organic foods cannot be grown using synthetic fertilizers, chemicals, or sewage sludge, cannot be genetically modified, and cannot be irradiated. Organic meat and poultry must be fed only organically-grown feed (without any animal byproducts) and cannot be treated with hormones or antibiotics. Furthermore, the animals must have access to the outdoors, and ruminants must have access to pasture (which doesn’t mean they actually have to go outdoors and graze on pasture to be considered organic).

"Whole grain" - The first ingredient of this product is listed as "Corn (Whole Grain Corn, Flour, Meal)."  This suggests that at least the larger portion of the corn contains the bran and germ.  Can't say much regarding the nutritional value of this product, however.

"Organic" yogurt - see above.

"Organic" cream cheese.

"No antibiotics ever administered" - No antibiotics were administered to the animal during its lifetime. If an animal becomes sick, it will be taken out of the herd and treated but it will not be sold with this label.


"Vegetarian fed" - Unless the label says “100 Percent Vegetarian Diet,” there is no guarantee that the animal’s feed was not supplemented with animal byproducts or is organic.


"Barn roaming" - This is not a legally-defined term.  This chicken was probably stuck in a barn for all of its 49 days.


"Complete traceability to farm" - This might be useful in the event of an outbreak of disease.


"No growth hormones" - Raised without added growth hormones. By law, hogs and poultry cannot be given any hormones - so the use of the label on these meats is unnecessary, or perhaps misleading.

"Kosher, soaked, salted, and rinsed" - The chicken was slaughtered according to Jewish dietary laws, including that the slaughtering knife was checked for nicks beforehand to minimize suffering ("tza'ar ba'alei hayyim" - the mitzvah of avoiding cruelty to animals).  The soaking / salting / rinsing process is to remove all blood from the meat, in accordance with the verse from the Torah (Leviticus 17:13-14): "If any Israelite or any stranger who resides among them hunts down an animal or a bird that may be eaten, he shall pour out its blood and cover it with earth.  For the life of all flesh - its blood is its life.  Therefore I say to the Israelite people: You shall not partake of the blood of any flesh, for the life of all flesh is its blood."

"Cage-Free Eggs" -  Birds are raised without cages. What this doesn’t explain is if the birds were raised outdoors on pasture, if they had access to outside, or if they were raised indoors in overcrowded conditions. If you are looking to buy eggs, poultry or meat that was raised outdoors, look for a label that says “Pastured” or “Pasture-raised”.


Here are the ingredients for this product:


Water, Soybean Oil, Vinegar, Whole Eggs and Egg Yolks, Modified Corn Starch, Sugar, Salt, Lemon Juice, Sorbic Acid, Calcium Disodium EDTA, Xanthan Gum, Phosphoric Acid, Citric Acid, Dl Alpha Tocopherol Acetate (Vitamin E), Natural and Artificial Flavors (Contain Soy Lecithin), Beta-carotene (For Color), Phytonadione (Vitamin K), Paprika, Oleoresin.


Eggs being only the fourth ingredient, the egg content can be no more than 1/4 of the total, and probably considerably less.

 "Organic" milk.  See above.

"No GMOs / No bioengineered ingredients" - The product was produced without the use of genetically-modified organisms.


"Made with organic spinach and flour" - Great, but what about the rest of it?

"Not treated with rBST / rBGH" - Milk from growth hormone-free cows.

"All-Natural" - see above.
"Handmade" - I have no idea what this means.

"Organic" - see above.


*****


Thanks to all who participated!  To learn more, visit:


http://www.jewishfarmschool.org/

http://www.hazon.org/

http://www.sustainabletable.org/

Ancient and Not-So-Ancient Connections - Thursday Kavvanah, 12/8/11

At the very beginning of the Shaharit / morning service, every day of the year, there is a passage that we generally buzz through quickly without giving it much thought.  But it really should be in BOLD CAPS (if there were capital letters in Hebrew), because it nicely prefaces the act of tefillah / prayer.

The passage (found on page 7 of Siddur Sim Shalom for Weekdays), mentions that we are partners with God in the berit, the covenant established with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, and cites some of the key berit-making events that are taking place in the current run of Torah readings.  And then comes the following:


לְפִיכָךְ אֲנַחְנוּ חַיָּבִים לְהודות לְךָ וּלְשַׁבֵּחֲךָ וּלְפָאֶרְךָ וּלְבָרֵךְ וּלְקַדֵּשׁ וְלָתֵת שֶׁבַח וְהודָיָה לִשְׁמֶךָ
Therefore it is our duty to thank You and praise You, to glorify and sanctify your name.


One source of our obligation to recite words of prayer daily is the connection to the founding ancestors of our tradition.  Tefillah / prayer becomes an act of historical resonance, building a sort of pipeline to the patriarchs and matriarchs and allowing us to receive the benevolence bestowed upon them.


But the motivation that connects us even more powerfully today is, I think, not that of ancient times but of the more recent past.  When I daven, I sometimes like to picture my grandparents, great-grandparents and so on, peeking in through the windows.  We are all the inheritors of a long chain of tradition, unbroken for centuries; it is up to us to claim that tradition.


~
Rabbi Seth Adelson

The Subconscious Wrestling Match - Friday Kavvanah, 12/9/11

Jacob's fourth angelic encounter occurs in Parashat Vayishlah, completing his ascent into adulthood and assumption of his role as patriarch.  (The first occurred after he had fled from his brother Esau, just after obtaining the blessing from his father Isaac.)

When he wrestles with the "man" (or perhaps elohim, a "divine being," as the Torah later refers to him) in Genesis 32, the struggle seems to take place in both the physical and metaphysical context: on one hand, Jacob appears to be literally wrestling with a stranger; on the other, he is also locked in battle with himself.  Given that he is alone at the time, it suggests the possibility that this is a dream, like the encounter in Genesis 28.  But this episode plays out as much in the conscious as the subconscious.

This is Jacob's liminal moment: he is facing his past and future, preparing to reunite with his brother Esau and accept his destiny.  The angel supplies him with his new name, Israel ("he who strives with God"), signifying his transition.  Jacob struggles as much with God as with himself.

And so too is this the point of transition for us, the descendants of Jacob.  We are Yisrael, the ones that engage with God, and in doing so to this day, we struggle as much with ourselves.


~
Rabbi Seth Adelson

We Will Seek No Rain Before Its Time - Wednesday Kavvanah, 12/7/2011

Coming to the end of the second rainy day in a row, this rabbi wonders if it might not be sheer coincidence that two nights ago we began the seasonal addition of "veten tal umatar livrakhah" ("and grant dew and rain as a blessing") into the sixth baqashah / request of the weekday Amidah.  Of course, says my rational side, God does not really work that way, and anyway the request is for Israel, not here.

Meanwhile, the very idea that we make this request at all is curious.  The obligation to do so is described in Mishnah Ta'anit, accompanied by an explanation for its timing:


אין שואלים את הגשמים, אלא סמוך לגשמים
They only ask for rain when it is close to the rainy season. (Ta'anit 1:2)

Israel, though located in the Fertile Crescent of the Middle East, does not receive any rain at all from roughly March to October.  One might think that we should ask for rain year-round, because every little bit helps.  And given how important rain was to the livelihoods of our agricultural ancestors, it might be expected to be a consistent theme in daily prayer.

But there is also a rabbinic principle that we should only tell others what they are ready or willing to hear, and extending that logic to prayer, we should only make requests are within the realm of possibility.  There is no point in asking for rain in the Israeli summer, because it simply isn't going to happen.  By the time we start adding this to our weekday tefillot, there is a good chance that rain might fall.

So regardless of how wet it might be in New York, now is absolutely the time to pray for rain.  Stay dry!


~
Rabbi Seth Adelson

Jacob and René

Sunrise this morning was at 6:58 AM, and as I hurried to make it to morning minyan / service at 6:45, the lawn in front of Temple Israel looked very much like this:

I had a momentary fantasy of strolling with a bowler and umbrella through a painting by the Belgian surrealist, René Magritte: L'Empire des Lumières / The Empire of Light.

One way to approach the artwork of the Torah is to place ourselves in it.  When Jacob finds himself, at the beginning of Parashat Vayyetze, transfixed by a vision of angels ascending and descending a ladder to the sky, he is awestruck:


וַיִּירָא, וַיֹּאמַר, מַה-נּוֹרָא, הַמָּקוֹם הַזֶּה:  אֵין זֶה, כִּי אִם-בֵּית אֱלֹהִים, וְזֶה שַׁעַר הַשָּׁמָיִם
Shaken, he said, "How awesome is this place!  This is none other than the abode of God, and that is the gateway to heaven." (Bereshit / Genesis 28:17)


When we find ourselves struck by something we see or experience, it is an opportunity to recall the sense of "radical amazement" that Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel brought to our attention in his theological writings:


"Among the many things that religious tradition holds in store for us is a legacy of wonder. The surest way to suppress our ability to understand the meaning of God and the importance of worship is to take things for granted. Indifference to the sublime wonder of living is the root of sin." (Heschel, God in Search of Man).

I imagine that I too would have had that sense of wonder if I were walking through Jacob's vision.  Much more challenging, however, is to find the radical amazement in the commonplace; look for it.


~
Rabbi Seth Adelson