Jewish Date in Your Browser #Torah #Luach

If you use Firefox and care about the Jewish calendar, there is a nice add-on to Firefox which will show the day and date, and probably the Parshah when it’s Shabbes, but that would mean I was looking at the computer on Shabbes, so I’m not sure about that one. You can find it at https://addons.mozilla.org/en-US/firefox/addon/1379.

Breaking news… hover over the date and the add-on gives you a countdown to Shabbes and the name of the Parsha.  So far, I haven’t found what button to press to make Shabbes come faster…bummer. There are buttons to look at the complete Hebrew calendar and create Shabbat reminders. And, there is even a gematria calculator but seems like all it does is add up the numerical value of whatever word or phrase you type into it.

Modern Technology and an Ancient Custom – Birkat HaHama

The once every twenty-eight years opportunity for pronouncing Birkat HaHama (Blessing of the Sun) is fast approaching. It will be celebrated on the day of Erev  Pesach.  There are all sorts of web resources available for reading up on this custom.  Basically – and skipping over hard-core astronomical science – our tradition has it that every twenty eight years the sun is in exactly the position it occupied when first created. A selection of issues involving Birkat HaHama include: Given the principle of performing a Mitzva with zeal and alacrity (i.e. the first opportunity), and given that the b’racha should be said as soon as one sees the sun, does one daven Shacharit first and then say Birkat HaHama, or the other way around? Can you eat before saying the b’racha?  (Halacha generally forbids eating in the 30 minutes before performing a time-bound Mitzva.) Since this is an “opportunity mitzvah”, should one make special efforts to see the sun?  (You’re only obligated to say the bracha if you see the sun.) If the sun is covered by clouds (so you can’t say the bracha), but you are davening where you could see the sun if it appears, and it appears in the middle of reciting the Shema, should you interrupt your recitation to recite Birkat HaHama? (Normally, interrupting your recitation of the Shema – and its accompanying blessings – is a big no-no).  Turns out the answer is “Yes” you should interrupt the Shema, if necessary, because Birkat HaHama (in these circumstances) is a mitzva with a very limited window of opportunity.

If you are involved in a Brit Milah (which also, by tradition, should be performed as soon as possible on the eighth day), which takes precedence?  Brit Milah is a time-specific mitzvah, as is Birkat HaHama.  Brit Milah takes precedence for two reasons; it is mandated by the Torah whereas Birkat HaHama is only a “rabbinic commandment”, and it takes precedence by another rule – Tadir Ve’she’eno Tadir Tadir Kodem – (Regularly scheduled mitzvot take place over non-regularly scheduled mitzvot) .  But (don’t you love Talmudic reasoning? It’s way better than crossword puzzles or Sudoku for keeping your brain fresh and young) if it’s a cloudy day and proceeding with the bris will cause the only opportunity for Birkat HaHamah to be missed, then (you guessed it), you postpone the bris for a few moments to say Birkat HaHamah. So, you’re still wondering… hey Rabbi Art… what about that modern technology you promised in the article headline?  According to Daily Halacha (which is the source for all of the above) the Satmar Rabbi was faced with a situation where heavy clouds were forecast for the day of Birkat HaHamah and there was no reason to expect even the briefest opportunity to recite Birkat HaHamah. What to do?  What to do?  He told his Hasidim to get on an airplane so they could fly above the clouds, see the sun, and say the B’rachah!!  Hmmm… wonder if the airlines have a “Birkat HaHama fare”?

Out of the CAJE

We could be holding a mini-CAJE here at the Burlington airport. The food kiosk inside of security has sold out of all its veggie wraps and tuna sandwiches. I talked to a porter who was refilling the shelves and she told me that there is nothing vegetarian left in the entire airport. OK, that’s two food kiosks and a restaurant, but you get the idea.

The biggest challenge in returning from the CAJE experience is limiting the number of ideas you try to implement. I heard and saw enough good ideas and techniques to last quite a while. And that doesn’t even begin to address getting funding to bring in all the incredible teachers, storytellers and musicians to liven up the life of the shul. What I’d love to do…

• start each religious school student making her own siddur (see next bullet)
• re-invent how we daven in religious school and erev shabbat to return to the original intent of the liturgy and role of the hazzan.(see next bullet)
• return to “improvisational prayer”. For example, keep only the last five words of the first evening brachah, and at each service, have someone from the congregation describe his “sunset” or “evening” moment, ten conclude with the hatimah (signature, or standard ending). Beginning in the pre-hebrew school grades, teach each student to express her own version of the prayer which their class is learning.
• teach trope, which is to say, really teach trope
• bring back the maven who interprets the torah – see Storahtelling

See, there are already too many ideas to do at once…. or maybe not.

Into the CAJE – 2

The first time I attended CAJE it was the Conference on Alternatives. I discovered yesterday that some rebranding took place while I was in the wilderness of high tech for 25 years. Now its the Coalition for the Advancement of Jewish Education. Nuff said.

Yesterday I went to a session given by Rabbi Ed Feinstein. It dovetailed nicely with the StorahTelling session from Monday afternoon. He observed that when people come to talk to him in his office, no one has ever told him to “keep it short.” In services, that’s another matter altogether. He began by collecting a list of distractions to prayer that people have. As a person who liked Hebrew school – even before going to Mahaneh Ramah and trying to keep up with day school and better educated campers who could daven from the good old Shilo Siddur – and eventually became a Rabbi, I am blessed to report that I don’t have the “common problems” with prayer that people reported. But that might make it harder for me to find ways to open up the tefilot to Jews who are not so lucky.

Rabbi Feinstein laid the ground by saying that teaching the siddur requires 3 disciplines; teaching the skills of saying the prayer (Hebrew language and bodily movement), teaching the understanding of the prayer (what does it say), and teach how to pray the prayer. The last part is, obviously, the most difficult, primarily because someone went and invented the printing press. Prayer, he said, used to be of a form like hip-hop or rap (I have often said jazz). Only the theme (the final hatimah (signature) was fixed; the rest of it was meant to be improvised.

What was new to me was an exercise in personalizing a prayer and accessing its emotional content. He used hamaariv aravim – the first prayer of the evening service. He asked for vounteers to describe a “sunset moment” in their lives, then turned their stories into a “prayer version”, concluding with the standard hatimah. Something I can barely wait to try at home.

Yesterday’s evening plenary was a combination of Craig Taubman (and band) and Rabbi Feinstein. In between the musical pieces, Rabbi Feinstein observed that it is a miracle that sixty years after the Shoah, Jewish life and Jewish education is being reborn. He talked about how easy it is for Jewish educators (and for rabbis al achat kamah v’kamah) to become discouraged and beaten down. So Craig had selected three people to come onstage and speak about their individual “miracle moments”. Quite moving to hear (understatement!) and an important reminder to any Jewish teacher to focus on and treasure the moments when we truly touch someone’s heart – and forget the rest.

Into the CAJE – Monday

This week I’m attending CAJE (Conference on Alternatives in Jewish Education).  I go sit down in a session and someone introduces himself to me and says he’s from Providence.  So of course I ask him “Do you know Alan Flam” who is the only person I know in Providence.  What’s the reply?  Of course I know Alan; he davens at my shul sometimes. (I’m not sure if Mark actually spoke a semi-colon, but, what the heck.)

It’s the nature of conferences that in one time slot there is nothing you want to hear, but at the next time slot there are four speakers that are all compelling.  At least I had the benefit of getting a “speaker debrief” from my sister Ruth, who is a long-time veteran of CAJE.  So that helped.  At the moment I’m waiting for the StorahTelling founder to show up for his session. Once he arrived, the session was incredible!  Almost beyond description; the revival of a form of Torah teaching that has been lost for 1,000 years.

This morning, of course, I went to hear Alan Morenis, and was happy to see he had a full room, and people were hanging on his every word.  In keeping with the theme of the prior paragraph, Jack Wertheimer couldn’t get here because of the weather.  This meant I didn’t get to hear the presentation of research on synagogue supplemental schools, which was the most “on-point” session I was planning to attend.

“Weeks” – What kind of name is “Weeks”?

Jewish names are a fascinating business, and I’m not even talking about names of people.  Our Torah portions are named according to the first significant word in the parshah.  Sometimes the parshah name gives a good indication of the content of the parshah, sometimes they seem merely coincidental, and sometimes they have almost nothing to do with the parshah.  “Breshit” makes perfect sense; its all about beginnings.  “Noah” works for the same reasons.  “Chayei Sarah” (Life of Sarah) – not about the life of Sarah.  “Behar” (at the mount) is puzzling to say the least.  One word later is “Sinai”.  That might have made a much better name.  Or how about “Behar Sinai” so at least we know what mountain we’re talking about.  And the portion where we receive the Torah?  Named after a non-Jew! (No offense to you Jethro, or your buddy Homer )

Holiday names?  A pretty good assortment. Except maybe for the one we’re about to celebrate?  Why is “Shavuot” (weeks) called “Shavuot”?  “Sukkot” (booths) makes perfect sense.  We spend a week living in a booth.  “Pesach” (pass-over) reminds us of the very moment in which the Israelite escape from Egypt is assured.  “Shavuot”?  What the heck is Shavuot.  Yes, I know the traditional explanation; the holiday is called “weeks” because we count seven weeks (plus a day) from Pesach, and the counting connects the two holidays.  This has led to countless drashot on how Pesach is not fulfilled until we receive the Torah on Mount Sinai; that freedom without responsibility has no meaning.  All of this makes me think of the rabbnic phrase uttered when a week explanation is given – kneh shel drosh (a weak reed of a drash; imagine a concrete block standing on top of a reed growing out of a marsh; not a good design).  (Here’s a few more good holiday names, mostly.  Rosh HaShannah for the beginning of the year.  OK, so originally it was the beginning of the seventh month, but why worry about that now?  Yom Kippur – Day of Atonement – that says it all.  It works for post-biblical holidays as well.  Hanukah – rededication.

So what would a “good and meaningful” name for the revelation holiday be?   Google “Shavuot” and “Name” and you’ll find that Shavuot has either three or four primary names; depending on where you do your surfing.  In addition to the official name; it also is known by a couple of agriculture related names; Yom HaBikkurim (day of the first fruits), Hag Hakatzir (harvest day), and perhaps the most resonant name Zman Matan Torateinu (the time of the giving of our Torah).

The official name could be “matan Torah” (the present of the Torah). If we’re happy ( and you know it clap your hands, sorry) about getting the Torah, we could call the holiday Simchat Torah.  Oh, can’t use that, because it’s already used when we finish and start the Torah reading cycle in the fall.

Personally, I’d vote for Kabbalat Torah, not that anyone is holding a vote or proposing renaming the holiday.  Here’s why.

• The first two paragraphs of the Shema that we recite twice a day are known as Kabbalat Ol Shamayim and Kabbalat Ol Mitzvot.  Respectively, these are the reception/acceptance of the “yoke” of heaven, and the reception/acceptance of the “yoke” of the commandments.
• When Shabbat enters our life, wherever that may be, we greet it with Kabbalat Shabbat
• Traditional Jewish weddings are preceded by pre-ceremony receptions (separately) for bride and groom.  The bride’s reception is called Kabbalat Panim (faces). And how does rabbinic judaism express the relationship between G-d and Israel?  As a marriage!

We gather on Erev Shavuot for the traditional eating of dairy (or soy) foods and study sessions.  Imagine doing the study under a giant chuppah, to reaffirm our vow to accept the Torah each year of our “marriage.”  think about  it.

Beef – It’s What’s For Dinner

The subject of food first comes up in the Torah when HaShem tells Adam and Eve what they can have to eat. They are told:

God said: ‘Behold, I have given you every herb yielding seed, which is upon the face of all the earth, and every tree, in which is the fruit of a tree yielding seed–to you it shall be for food; and to every beast of the earth, and to every fowl of the air, and to every thing that creepeth upon the earth, wherein there is a living soul, [I have given] every green herb for food.’ And it was so…. (Breshit, 1: 29-30)

And it was the day that G-d said was “very good.” At that time, humankind lived in a vegetarian universe. Humans eat only grain and fruit, and animals do likewise. Food comes up again in the story of eating of the forbidden tree, but let’s skip over that story, which is not really about food, and move ahead to the aftermath of the flood, where meat eating is sanctioned. Noah is told:

“Every moving thing that liveth shall be for food for you; as the green herb have I given you all. Only flesh with the life thereof, which is the blood thereof, shall ye not eat.” (Breshit 9:3-4)

The only rule at this point is not to eat the blood; kosher butchers are not required. Eventually, we get the complete rules of kashrut, including rules for proper killing of animals, and handling the resulting meat so that there is no danger of consuming blood. Eventually we get kosher butchers, the institution of the mashgia-ach, and in the last ten to twenty years – kosher meat and poultry at the local supermarket. All we have to do is look for any of the many hechshers that indicate kosher food.

You may know what has been “recently” uncovered at AgriProcessors of Postville, Iowa. It was all the rage when first purchased by Aaron Rubashkin. A number of stories were published about the arrival of kosher-keeping Orthodox Jews in a small plains state town. The business grew until AgriProcessors and their distributors were supplying over 60% of the beef and 40% of the kosher poultry products distributed in the United States. The employee count grew to over 800, but many of them were undocumented workers, and sure as day follows night, poor treatment followed. Somewhere a descendant of Upton Sinclair may be writing an unhappy postscript to The Jungle.

Sub-standard treatment of animals and workers led K’hal Adat Jershurun, their certifying agency, to pull their certification on April 16 of this year after a long effort to identify and improve conditions at the plant. The federal government swept up 400 illegal immigrants in a raid on May 12. There have been over three dozen safety violations in 2008 alone. Leading jewish organizations have issued letters and petitions calling on Mr. Rubashkin to change business and kashrut practices.

“We ask the following:

1. Pay all of your workers at least the federal minimum wage.
2. Recommit your company to abide by all federal, state and local laws including those pertaining worker safety, sexual harassment, physical abuse, and the rights of your employees to collective bargaining.
3. Treat those who work for you according to the standards that Torah and halakha places on protecting workers–standards which include the spirit of lifnim meshurat hadin, going beyond the bare minimum requirements of the law.”

Otherwise, says the petition, the undersigned will stop patronizing establishments utlizing AgriProcessors products as of June 15.

Here’s the salient paragraph from the United Synaogue statement in this matter.

New York, NY ( May 22, 2008 ) – In light of continuing disturbing allegations of unacceptable worker conditions at the Agriprocessors Plant in Postville, Iowa, the United Synagogue of Conservative Judaism and the Rabbinical Assembly is united in calling for a thorough evaluation by kosher consumers of the appropriateness of purchasing and consuming meat products produced by the Rubashkin’s label.

There have been two major responses to issues at the intersection of business practice and kashrut. One is the “eco-kosher” movement; the other is the “hechsher tzedek”. The philosophy of the eco-kosher approach is to expand the definition of kashrut to encompass more than just whether a given food-stuff is “on the list” and has been slaughtered appropriately. Fair-trade coffee is a good example of eco-kashrut. In determining if coffee is eco-kosher, one considers where the coffee is grown, how the workers are treated, how the land is treated, harvesting methods and so on. All of this goes into whether or not the coffee is kosher.
The second approach goes with the label, so to speak of “hechsher tzedek.” The hechsher, which is in fact on the label, certifies that the product has

“met production benchmarks consistent with Jewish ethical standards, including how companies treat their employees. Hekhsher Tzedek will serve as a supplement to – and not a replacement for traditional certification of kosher products.
The creation of the accompanying seal will ensure that not only are kosher products rooted in the proper Jewish methods of inspecting and slaughtering animals, but that the food is produced in a way that demonstrates concern for those human beings who are involved in its production.”

This approach takes the mitzvot that apply to business practices and applies them to kashrut. For example “You should not abuse a needy and destitute laborer, whether a citizen or a stranger”. (Devarim 24:14-15 ) or “Not to do wrong in buying or selling.” (Vayikra 25:14)

What is Kashrut about? It worked originally to separate the growing Jewish nation from other cultures. It is a way of imposing order on the universe and a way of being mindful of what we eat. Some have suggested that the highest form of Kashrut would be to follow G-d’s original intention and keep a vegetarian diet.

Kashrut in its original intent does not seem to be about justice. But without justice Kashrut seems devoid of meaning and hollow. Applying justice to kashrut makes perfect sense.

Our Torah portion this Shabbat begins with the phrase em behukotai telechu – if you walk in my laws. That is the ultimate challenge that the Torah makes to us – whether at the customary age of celebrating Bar Mitzvah, or at any point in our lives. As we congratulate this year’s B’nei Mitzvah class, let’s remind them, and each other, that we are B’nei Mitzvah every day of our lives. So each day we have to determine how to walk in G-d’s ways. Applying justice to whatever we do, is a good way to start.

Shabbat Shalom

What’s Right with Israel – 2

Judging by some comments on “What’s Right with Israel – 1″ it seems like some readers are uncomfortable with those Israelis who are attempting to live up to the prophetic tradition and to the mandate of the Torah which says הוֹכֵחַ תּוֹכִיחַ אֶת-עֲמִיתֶךָ (You should surely rebuke your kinsman). I’m no fan of, for example, Women in Black, who often hold what I feel are anti-Israel demonstrations, and hold them on Shabbat when they know other Jews might rather be in shul than putting on counter-demonstrations. But the existence of – and acceptance of – dissenting voices in Israel, is something Jews everywhere should be proud of. After all, the RAMBAM’s writings were put in cherem for his views, which some considered heretical. And as recently as 1945, Rabbi Mordecai Kaplan was excommunicated by the Assembly of the Union of Orthodox Rabbis of the United States.

And by the way, I’ll be riding my road bike in Israel in November to raise money for Hazon and the Arava Institute, because Israel has garbage problems like every other country in the world.

So here’s #2 in What’s Right with Israel; the not-so-very-short list of Arab members of the Knesset. The members of parliament from the parties Ra’am Ta’al, Hadash, and the National Democratic Assembly. Do I agree with what they have to say about Israel, some of which is quite hateful? Of course not. Do I think it’s completely laudable and amazing that a country surrounded on all sides (OK not the Mediterranean) is strong and self-confident and yes, pluralistic enough to live up to the best ideals of democracy. You betcha!!

Here’s some sugar to make the (for some) medicine go down; a list of the Israeli Nobel Prize Winners. And I suspect if there were not such an amount of Israel hatred (the new anti-semitism of course), the list might be significantly longer.

1. Robert Aumann, Germany, Economics, 2005
2. Aaron Ciechanover, Chemistry, 2004
3. Avram Hershko, Hungary, Chemistry, 2004
4. Daniel Kahneman, Economics, 2002
5. Yitzhak Rabin, Peace, 1994
6. Shimon Peres, Poland, Peace, 1994
7. Menachem Begin, Poland, now Belarus, Peace, 1978
8. Shmuel Yosef Agnon, Austria, Literature, 1966

Looking for my Judaism

My dear friend Chauncey Bell forwarded me this note from an email list he reads and asks how I would have responded.

Dear Rabbi J.,

You are perhaps the only Rabbi that I feel I can write to about the following painful subject.

I grew up in a very secular home, with no faith and no G-d. My parents were both highly intelligent, cultured individuals. My father amassed a fortune as a shrewd and successful businessman, while my mother was a professional in her own right. But despite my family’s stature, we grew up in a loveless home. Our parents were not there for us, nor were they there for each other. My parents were not loyal to each other and ultimately divorced, leaving my siblings and me adrift.

I was always conscious of being Jewish, though I knew nothing about it. As I suffered through my un-nurturing home life, I began a spiritual search that ultimately led me to the Jewish community. There I found a warmth and love that I had never before experienced. The power of Jewish tradition – Shabbat, prayer, even kosher – resonated with me. Not that commitment came easily to me. But I appreciated the power of commitment – something I had never really experienced. My life was all about shifting loyalties, broken promises, dashed dreams – all creating profound distrust and insecurity. But now I discovered something new: Committed people to each other, to family, to community and to a higher calling. It was quite compelling. I also sensed a simplicity and even rejection of the high culture I grew up in. Most of the religious Jews I met were not open to other ideas and to a free-spirited perspective. But I reckoned that perhaps the trade-off was worth it: Sacrificing some of the beauty of art and literature, but without a rudder, for a life of trust, love and commitment, with very strong sense of purpose.

I was seduced by the observant lifestyle, and I slowly but surely became totally observant myself. At some point I couldn’t do enough. I made friends quickly and was welcomed into the community with open arms. For every friend and family I came to know another set of traditions became part of my regimen. I began using my Hebrew name in place of my secular one. I was kissing mezuzahs, reciting Tehillim, running to synagogue, praying at holy places, tying red strings on every one of my joints. I even took an extended leave from work to go study in a Yeshiva in Israel. And I met many others on a similar journey. As I look back at it now, it all was a blurring whiz – I was completely taken and consumed by the euphoria, like a marathon runner whose legs can’t stop moving, being pulled along on the adrenalin generated by the cheers of all the bystanders and the momentum of my fellow runners.

Pretty soon I was one of those “baalei teshuvah,” with various Rabbis and Rebbetzin’s taking credit for my miraculous “return” to my roots. Adding a feather to many caps, I was then deluged with “shidduchim,” potential marriage mates, whom I began to date. At that point, I began to feel my own self re-emerging and wasn’t really sure what I wanted outside of the demands and pressures of those around me. Truth be told, their intentions were for the most part pure, but they simply did not allow me to be myself. With the argument that they – or as they would put it, the “Torah” – knows better. I realized that my great hunger for spirit and meaning totally overwhelmed my senses and my sense of self, and I was being carried on the waves of enthusiasm. I seriously couldn’t distinguish between who I was as opposed to who others thought I was; between my individual needs and the expectations of me. The boundaries became blurred: where did others end and where did I begin?

And then the ax fell. The honeymoon was over. As I began to land and returned to my daily routines, I also began to see many of the flaws of the communities that embraced me. Frankly, that did not disturb me at all. I was not a child nor naïve; I understood that every social circle has its strengths and its weaknesses. People are people. What drew me to the religious community was not a fantastic expectation that I found perfect people; rather that I had found a perfect Judaism – a way that G-d wants us to live. What ended up truly troubling me was that so many of the religious community were simply mindless and mechanical – and callous. That too is forgivable; the secular world is not much different. What was not forgivable, however, was that in their mindlessness (masked in blind faith) many were cruel and selfish. And to top it off, when “dressed” in religious garb, the self-righteousness is simply unbearable. From condescension to outright arrogance, anything that did not neatly fit into the “comfortable” zone of the initiated was simply dismissed or criticized. Religion was much more about appearances and mechanics than it was about inner spiritual development. Except for a rare few, I did not witness introspection, an effort in personal refinement and growth, deepening love and relationships. That’s fine, as long as you don’t spend your time your time criticizing others and convincing yourself that you are better than others just because you are wearing a sheitel.

My questions, for example, became the irritating voice of the malcontent. From “she’s too independent” to the profoundly psychological “what can you do, she comes from a dysfunctional family,” people seemed to need to explain me away some way, instead of just having an intelligent conversation that perhaps would enlighten us all.

Especially destructive were those Rabbis and teachers who always knew “what was best for me.” I appreciate their scholarship, but many are quite unevolved when it comes to human emotions and personal refinement. They hide behind texts and quote chapters, verses and halachot. But some simply are clueless of the “fifth” shulchan aruch – common sense. Some of these “authorities” felt that they have to baby-sit for the “nebech” me and others who unfortunately did not grow up “frum.” Their guidance, I understand today, was anything but empowering. It was not driven by confidence in our souls, but by fear that we would wander off. Their intentions may have been fine, but they fundamentally believe that in Judaism there is an “us” and a “them,” “haves” and “have-nots,” and that they were superior to the less informed and educated. If you rejected their advice, on whatever grounds, you were turned on, blacklisted and cast out of the “inner circle.”

Today I am alienated and angry. Lonely and disturbed. And yes, I have regressed in my observance. I deeply love the spiritual path of Judaism. [Not all is lost, Rabbi. I still kiss mezuzahs and wear my red string… Among other things that I cherish and embrace, including Shabbat]. Yet I cannot find a community where I can belong. Equally sad are the other lonely souls that I meet with similar stories.

Many have completely rejected the Jewish tradition that they once embraced. Some are livid when it comes to this topic. I am not in that category. Please understand: I am not writing to you to vent my grievances or to just criticize the “system.” I see much of its beauty and am eternally grateful to those that took me in, taught me and in many ways transformed my life.

I am writing on a personal level: How should I view my experience? What should I be doing? Is there hope?

D. A.

__________

In answer to my friend’s question, here is how I would have responded.

Dear D.A.

My heart goes out to you for your experiences, positive and negative, in your family and with your search for a significant and loving spiritual path with the Jewish tradition. I hope that you will find your way to a community that you will experience as sensitive, loving, and spiritual. And rabbis who will help you find – in your own way – what is best for you.

We know that when a person has been deprived of food and water for a long period of time she will have a tendency to want to drink and eat too much too quickly. The body is then overwhelmed and can be further damaged. It is better to give such a person only a little food and drink at first and then to gradually feed her until her body returns to a more normal state.

So it is with love and with religious observance. There is a danger in trying to go too fast and too quickly. Perhaps this will resonate with you as descriptive of your experience. In my rabbinic practice I often encounter people who come from a place of little or no Jewish knowledge and experience. They then seek to immediately immerse themselves in what they perceive to be the most authentic Jewish community, which can be mistaken for the most traditional or Orthodox community they can find. Because each human spirit is different, this can be a good and proper path to Jewish meaning. But for some, it is the equivalent of too much food and drink. When, as you write, “normal” returns, then the flaws (which all individuals and all communities have, because we are all imperfect human beings) become apparent, and at times, overwhelming.

I encourage you to continue your search for a spiritual path to Judaism and a community to locate yourself in. We are fortunate in our day to have many, many varieties of Jewish experience, and certainly there is a community that you will find a home in. This is what you should be doing, and yes, there is great hope. And if I can help you further with your search, my telephone number is below. Call me.

Judaism and Earth Day

Today (April 22) is the “official” earth day. Last week I participated in an earth day convocation at Modesto Junior College. Once again I was struck by the fact that Islam and Judaism have so many teachings in common. We both have a teaching that says if we are planting a tree and the day of judgment arrives that we should first finish planting the tree before going to greet the messenger of the day of judgment.

Helen Jupiter, writing in Jewcy, has a review of 10 books examining the connection between the Jewish tradition and the environment. Her list includes Pollution in a Promised Land: An Environment History of Israel by Alon Tal. Since I’m signed up to do a 5 day bicycle ride to benefit two Israel environment organizations, I’ve just ordered it, and I’ll be studying up before the November ride. Professor Tal comments on the environmental situation in Israel. You can read the Jerusalem Post article here.

For a bit of slightly more encouraging piece of news about Jerusalem and the environment, check out this article about composting in a Jerusalem community garden.

Here’s one of the organization’s I’ll be raising funds for – Hazon. And here’s the other – The Arava Institute.