Reflections on CCAR

Okay, I'm back from NOLA. I've been mostly blogging at the official blog site, but for those who didn't keep up. I'll post what little I did this week. Then I'll be catching up on sleep and gearing up for Shabbat! I've added a little bit of video to what I posted before but the images are 'native' to the blog posts.

3/26

Just got into the hotel, sadly too late to register. Got to fly down with a ‘certainty’ of rabbis (as Peter Sagal insisted was the technical term for a plurality of rabbis), including William Kuhn, Peter Rigler, Eric Wisnia, Carolyn Bricklin and Andrea Weiss. Looking forward to catching up with more colleagues tomorrow!

3/27

I first read Roger Kamnetz’s The Jew in The Lotus around the same time as I was studying Kafka and Nachman of Bratzlav (separately) so it was bashert (or at least wonderful luck) that his new book, Burnt Books, converges on these very different yet similar topics. The book, which he discussed today in a pre-convention study session, is an intellectual biography (of sorts) of two wildly different individuals: the tormented hasidic master (to use Art Green’s turn of phrase) who may have been a tzaddik ha-dor and the tormented secular writer of the twenties, both of whom were consumed with the fire of their ‘torah’.

I’ve been reading the book with great interest; both are some of the great storytellers of ‘modernity’ (though Nachman would not have appreciated that term) and both deal with the very profound issues of spiritual alienation in their writing. And both burned their books. As Kamenetz writes: “The gesture suggests that the act of writing in itself is profoundly important, even if no one ever reads it, a prospect most writers today would find difficult.” And in fact, for both writers, it was the act of writing that was sacred; the fear, of course, was that the wrong readership would somehow malign their texts, reduce them and reimagine them inappropriately (which to some degree has come to pass: as Kamenetz points out, most scholars think Nachman was insane, and everyone has claimed Kafka as their own to the point that there are thousands of Kafkas running amok in bibliographies).

The discussion itself wasn’t so much about Kamenetz’s book (although it was about that) but about the nature of the spiritual discourse we engage in as rabbis. At least, that was my question. For many of us, to talk about God is to encounter a gatekeeper, much like the one in Kafka’s parable of the Law, or any number of Bratzlaver tales. We face obstacles to God encounters again and again, and the question becomes, what then are our spiritual values? Like the young Jews of Kafka’s era, we have become disillusioned with Modernity and are trying to reclaim something of the ascension of the soul, even while we face the twin atheisms (as Nachman put it) of critical thinking and the emptiness of the soul that happens when we descend to nothing. So what are we then left with? Secular values. To quote: “Chutzpah is not a jewish spiritual value. If you want to claim that it is a spiritual value, you’re going to have to do a lot of work. It is certainly a post-modern secular jewish value supreme. is chutzpah what the soul wants? Is it about the soul? That’s the question.”

So how do we answer the question? For Kamenetz, we must engage the soul through our feelings, and overcome the obstacles, work our way deeper into the pain we feel in order to approach God. For us, the question might be: how are we the Gatekeepers, and how are we the ones at the Gate? How do we remove obstacles and how do we help guide our congregants through their own spiritual obstacles? What can we do to help those around us encounter and engage their souls, and bring their souls back from the brink?

Like a Bratzlaver tale of a lost princess, the ending is not clear, except that we do overcome the obstacles. And we do so, at least from the vantage point of Kamenetz, by going to those places of hurt ourselves, and running the risk that we ourselves may not escape the descent.

Hope others who were at the session will chime in with their thoughts and observations…

3/28

There is something really wonderful about seeing a classmate in action. One of my friends (Rabbi Dan Fellman) observed today that we so rarely get to see each other ‘doing our thing’; that once we’re out of school we get together to study or for conventions, but most of us don’t get the chance to see how we’ve grown and developed as rabbis and who we’ve become since ordination.

For me and many of my classmates, today was one of those days, as Dr. Joshua Garroway, my classmate and friend, presented on the other side of the Prophetic voice. it was classic Josh: with great thoughtfulness and careful analysis of the text (with heaping servings of humor) we looked at the dark, disturbing side to the Prophetic Vision of the end of history; that is, for all the world to be one and God’s name to be one (as we read in Aleinu, quoting Zechariah) we must first encounter catastrophe, disaster, and destruction. Again and again the prophets put forward not just images of peace and justice and redemption but also suffering and turmoil, as a necessary precursor to the age of redemption. As Josh said: “Our prophets speak of war, devestation and destruction as inevitable forerunners of peace, justice and harmony at the end of history.”

So what do we do with that voice? Our first instinct is to disregard it (apparently the RAMBAM agrees), or to leave that aspect of the prophetic vision to those nonliberal religious traditions that are focused on some vision of victory born from misery. Or, we could recapture the text, and here is where the innovation happens: that perhaps these texts could be reimagined. Not merely as descriptions of God’s wrath against Israel and the world, but also of the universal empathy that emerges after a crisis. That we, when faced with the horrifying (the tsunami in Japan, or the earthquakes in Haiti), reveal a profound universalist and compassionate streak as evoked in the Aleinu. For the Prophets, that crisis is necessary to create redemption; but what would it mean to capture that sense of care for all without the crisis? And how do we challenge our congregations (and ourselves) to engage in that kind of love in a meaningful way?

Needless to say, it was a marvelous chance to study, and a great opportunity to see a colleague and friend put forward his best self.

Finally (and self-indulgently) an apology for so late a report. One of the wonderful things about CCAR is all of the unplanned or semi-planned stuff: the conversations in the hotel lobby or walking down the street, dinner with classmates, late-night sessions talking about some project or another. Tonight had all of those wonderful encounters, so I find myself delayed, but rejoicing in the sacredness of each opportunity.

3/30

When I was asked to blog the convention, I found it really, really funny. Frankly, I still do. Sure, I Facebook, I blog, but those just feel like digital versions of what I do already. The blog is a bulletin article–a more interactive one to be sure, but similar in nature. Facebook is a 24/7 Oneg conversation: “Rabbi, there’s this article I saw…” “did you know so-and-so is in the hospital?” “Did you hear this joke?”

So the Freehof Institute seminar on Halacha and the Internet was of great interest to me, especially because of the eagerness on the part of rabbis and our congregants to use technology and the questions they raise. Does someone watching a live-stream service count in the minyan? And is it ethical or appropriate to even have a live-streamed service? How does our connectivity effect or ability to observe Shabbat or make sacred time for ourselves? Does that technology enhance or detract from the Shabbat experience.

Sadly, I was only able to hear the first two papers, but they raised great questions and important nuances. For the live-streaming of services, for example, there are compelling reasons to broadcast the worship of a congregation, not the least of which is bikkur cholim: a homebound congregant, the ill grandmother of a bar mitzvah who can’t travel. And, there is precedent in the tradition for the online viewer to be consideredyotzei through their participation (though they wouldn’t count as a 10th member of the minyan). However, what questions does it raise about copyright permission with regards to the liturgies and music being used? What about the permission of the worshippers (or lack thereof) to be photographed? And how does the presence of the camera change the service? Does tech support impugn the ability to lead a meaningful service for the congregation? And what happens if the service ends up on YouTube, especially if there’s something on the video embarrassing to one of the participants? All of these questions need to be tackled before just jumping at the chance to broadcast to the world.

The second part of the seminar–on connectivity and Shabbat–requires an equally nuanced view. Does technology add oneg and kedusha? For some, perhaps: the use of Skype to talk to grandma, or the ability for a worshiper to share his inspired feelings from a service on Facebook (at NFTY convention this year the participants were encouraged to tweet services, for example). But what if it’s the inability to put down Angry Birds at the cost of time spent with family. And of course, what about us, for whom Shabbat is already a ‘busman’s holiday’: does our need (real or imagined) to be on and available all the time make technology and even greater temptation to work when we should be enjoying some much-needed menucha?

As the presenters left the questions unanswered so shall I, but it’s worth asking the questions as we move toward ‘teching’ up our Jewish experiences more and more...

Normally don't blog on Shabbes, but

I normally try to avoid blogging on Shabbat, but as part of my Shabbes reading, I came across this interview with Rick Jacobs, the newly designated head of the URJ. Worth a read. You can find it at the JTA. Two quotes:

"“There’s no anti. It’s all pro,” he said. “Nothing Jewish is alien to us. Reform Judaism is an evolving and profound expression of the Jewish tradition. Its essence is to respond to the call of God and to the imperatives of the day.”"

“We want to make exciting synagogues the norm,” he said. “Synagogues cannot wait for people to walk into their buildings. The synagogue has to walk into the public square and engage people, particularly Jews in their 20s and 30s. People still crave and need a deep sense of community.”

Including Jews With Financial Challenges by | Jewcy.com

This article is very important, and you should read it. I'm proud of the way our congregation handles the issue of cost, but I know not everyone has a positive experience, not every synagogue (or JCC, or Day School, Preschool, etc.) knows how to handle the issue. This isn't a 'fault' issue, so much as well-meaning people trying to make something work and help people connect in a meaningful way to the Jewish community... I hope this effort by the JOI allows more congregations etc. bring more Jews into affiliated life.

Including Jews With Financial Challenges by | Jewcy.com

Including Jews With Financial Challenges

By Paul Golin / March 24, 2011

This article originally appeared at E Jewish Philanthropy.

At any given time, the majority of US Jewish households are not affiliated with Jewish institutions like synagogues or JCCs. There are many reasons why, perhaps the most important being that the organized community hasn’t made a strong enough case for the meaning and value of being affiliated. There’s a subset of the unaffiliated, however, who already understand the meaning and value – or who, like most affiliated households, simply want or need the services provided – but do not affiliate because of their own personal financial situations. And the size of this subset has likely grown during the recent Great Recession. What can the Jewish community do to make sure that a financial challenge is not the reason keeping an individual from affiliating?

During the past decade, we at the Jewish Outreach Institute have conducted “environmental scans” of over 500 Jewish institutions in more than a dozen Jewish communities of all sizes, to determine how each looks to potential newcomers. On the issue of financial accessibility, models vary widely but the most common remains a set membership or fee, usually dependent upon household structure, often with accommodations made for age or current lifecycle (for example, most institutions have come to recognize that young adults in their 20s can’t join at the same financial level as their parents).

For others with financial challenges, there is almost universal agreement among Jewish communal professionals that their organizations will make accommodations. However, how that actually works is in no way uniform and in fact represents a serious barrier to participation. In most organizations, those accommodations are not advertised in any way – the impetus is on the financially-challenged to ask for assistance. It is safe to assume that for every individual who does ask, there are many more that don’t, either out of shame or simply because they were unaware it was even an option.

This challenge is currently being addressed by the Big Tent Judaism Coalition, an advocacy initiative coordinated by the Jewish Outreach Institute of over 450 organizations seeking a more inclusive community, in a campaign called, “There’s No Shame In Asking.”

We timed the campaign around Purim because we imagined what the hero of the story, Esther, must have experienced before approaching her husband the king to disclose a piece of her identity that she had previously kept private. She must have feared rejection or being made to feel ashamed. Thankfully for the countless generations of Jews since, she did come forward and she was met with sensitivity and understanding. If there are people today who want to be a part of our community, perhaps to educate their children Jewishly, but doesn’t come forward with their financial challenges because they fear rejection, who knows how many countless future Jews we might lose?

To provide a more uniformed message to those with financial challenges, member organizations in the Big Tent Judaism Coalition are being furnished with large-format cards [PDF version here] that they can distribute to potential new members. The cards provide two key pieces of information: encouragement, including a standard sentence to initiate the conversation, “I’d like to learn more about adjustments offered on your organization’s (membership/tuition/program) fees”; and the name and contact information of a specific individual at the organization that is distributing the cards. The contact person is essential because whoever is on the receiving end of that sentence needs to be able to reply with sensitivity and confidentiality, and to clearly articulate the organization’s policies.

We recognize the many challenges in such an advocacy campaign, and why so many organizations have been hesitant to make public their willingness to accommodate those with financial challenges. Many organizations are hurting financially as well, and this approach seems counterintuitive to their bottom line. Others fear that people might take advantage of an organization’s sensitivity by lying about their financial needs. To address these and other concerns, we’ve initiated a conversation among organizations to share best practices, and additional features of the campaign will include a webinar of what we’ve learned from the field.

But we initiated this campaign, especially during these difficult economic times, because we felt strongly that this was a barrier to participation in Jewish communal life that we could address for those who are currently financially challenged; and that by doing so we could showcase our values as a community. We want people inside our tent. We want to serve those who are struggling. Those of us who may have struggled in the past but are in a better place now and want to give back, want to bring more people with us, and doing so together as a community sends a powerful message that we are extending our hands from a position of moral strength rather than withdrawing due to a fear of economic uncertainty.

We invite all Jewish organizations to participate in this campaign by joining the Big Tent Judaism Coalition, which is free and only requires that the organization aspires to the “Ten Principles of Big Tent Judaism”; learn more and sign up here.

Paul Golin is associate executive director of the Jewish Outreach Institute, which serves as the coordinating organization of the Big Tent Judaism Coalition.

Off To New Orleans

In case I don't get to post again until motzei Shabbat, I'm on my way to New Orleans for the CCAR conference (hashtag #ccar11). Somehow I got asked to blog the convention with some much smarter, more technologically savvy people than me, so you'll be able to follow along here starting on Sunday (it's not really live yet, so no peeking!).

CCAR is one of those things I look forward to every year, and not only because it's a chance to explore a new city and do a little networking (though that happens as well). It's a chance for me to recharge my spiritual and theological batteries. I get to gather with colleagues and longtime friends, people I respect tremendously, and catch up with them, study with them, commiserate with them, learn what's going on in their lives, daven with them. We share old jokes that still somehow manage to be fresh, trade 'war stories', and learn best practices. We get ideas for what to study or read next, sermon ideas, thoughts on adult ed courses to teach and programs to initiate. And for 'political' junkies like me there's opportunity aplenty to sit down and discuss the fate and direction of the movement and where we should go. It's more than a school reunion, more than camp for Jews. For me, it's a pilgrimage.

So, hope to see many of you there, and for those I don't, keep checking in!

Poetry in response to Bombs

The diameter of the bomb was thirty centimeters
and the diameter of its effective range about seven meters,
with four dead and eleven wounded.
And around these, in a larger circle
of pain and time, two hospitals are scattered
and one graveyard. But the young woman
who was buried in the city she came from,
at a distance of more than a hundred kilometers,
enlarges the circle considerably,
and the solitary man mourning her death
at the distant shores of a country far across the sea
includes the entire world in the circle.
And I won't even mention the howl of orphans
that reaches up to the throne of God and
beyond, making
a circle with no end and no God.

--Yehuda Amichai

Whither Reform Part II--Congratulating Rick Jacobs

Well, we got a partial answer today: Rabbi Rick Jacobs, senior rabbi of Westchester Reform Temple in Scarsdale New York (one of the most dynamic congregations in the country and one of the original Synagogue 2000 congregations) has been selected to be the new President of the Union for Reform Judaism. Himself a founder of S2K, active in the wider Jewish world, scholarship, and dance (he's a former choreographer and dancer of the Avodah Dance company), I have no doubt in my mind that he will do some dynamic and engaging things with the Reform Movement (no pun intended). I know he'll take the URJ where it needs to go; I hope he'll have the freedom of movement he needs to make real and serious institutional changes, and help the movement recommit to a vision and mission that fits. B'hatzlacha to him on this wonderful achievement. May he go from strength to strength.

Whither Reform?

To begin this post, let me be clear: I'm not shrying gavult over the fate of the Reform Movement, nor am I worried about its future--Reform Synagogues will continue with strength, along with the Camps, the Religious Action Center, and the College-Institute. The ethos of Reform will thrive long after I'm gone: egalitarianism, welcoming others, social justice, and embracing a Jewish life fully inclusive of modernity and modern values. Having said that, there is an anxiety out there, reflected in the article by David Ellenson I posted last week, and several articles in the Forward (and other places) on the future of Reform, including an article from a month (or more) ago on the efforts of some Reform rabbis to enter dialogue with the movement institutions about their future--especially that of the URJ--right when Rabbi Eric Yoffie is stepping down as President. (an effort I've signed off on, by the way).

So it's pretty clear that the Reform Movement's institutions are at a crossroads. Reform has never been more relevant as a practice, but what should be the priority (or priorities), the direction, of the Reform Movement as practiced by her institutions? Where should Reform go as a movement? How should it be structured? Who should lead the way? What do you think?