The Reformim in the Conservative shul

I went to Kane Street Synagogue on Brooklyn for erev Sukot/Shabat services last night. It’s a Conservative shul, but they have a Friday night minyan that has the feel of being an indie minyan, though it is far from indie.  Rather, it is the Friday night service of this affiliated, mid-size Brooklyn shul. I’ve previously written about KSS here, during my month of NYC shul-hopping last winter.

While there, I ran into to other Reformim. One is a URJ employee and the other was an HUC student. Hm.

I ask the following without wishing to insinuating that there is some crisis where none exists. What does it mean for URJ Jews when Reform Jews, who, unlike me, continue to associate with the Union go to services regularly, but don’t go to URJ synagogues regularly?

Of course, it was just a good as I remembered it, though the crowd seemed a little smaller. Last time I went, I arrived a little late and was confounded by the cluster of people who all seemed to be kind of leading the service. This time, I was there early so I got see that at the beginning of the service, Joey, the leader, just invites up anyone who wants to (“Even if you have no idea what you’re doing”) come up and help lead. What a great minhag! It also introduces a low-level buzz of chaos to the service, which I love.

Breaking idols with Rabbi Morris

I know that Rabbi Leon Morris is my kind of guy because when commenting on how nice the spring weather was Friday afternoon, we both said, “Pesach must be coming.” Discussion of seasons in Israel and of the line in G’vurot that will shortly change followed.

I first met Rabbi Morris, one of the most important Liberal Jewish thinkers of our times, a few months ago at Limmud NY 2009. Read about that meeting here.

We were both eager to get to know each other a little better than we’d gotten the chance to at Limmud. A few things got in the way, but we finally managed to get together for lunch on Friday.

He works at the Skirball Center, which is housed in an nominally run by Temple Emanu-El. Emanu-El, if you know anything about Reform Judaism, is the premiere symbol at Classical Reform in the northeast, if not the entire country. It’s sanctuary is awe-inspiringly cathedralesque (if we can pretend that’s a word, for a moment) and they’ve got a tremendous organ. Downstairs, in their social hall, is a huge marble memorial to Isaac Mayer Wise.

And there I was, sitting on the roof, eating lunch with a Rabbi who makes motzi and birkat hamazon with every meal, discussing tradition and increased observance and a sense of commandedness in Reform Judaism.

I felt like I was in Terach’s idol shop, breaking everything.

WUPJ Kab. Shab. review, part V (Modim and lessons learned)

Parts I, II, III, and IV.

Today I’ll cover this service’s truncated and strange treatment of Modim.

Normally, Modim goes like this:

Modim anachnu lach, she’Atah hu Adonia Eloheinu vElohei avoteinu (in standard Progressive these days: v’imoteinu) l’olam va’ed.

Tzur chayeinu, magein yisheinu, Atah hu l’dor vador. Nodeh l’cha unsaper t’hilatecha, al chayeinu hamsurim d’yadecha, v’al nishmoteinu hap’kudot lach, v’al nisecha sheb’chol yom imanu v’al niflotecha v’tovotecha sheb’chol et, erev, vavoker, v’tzoharayim. Hatov, ki lo chalu rachamecha, v’hamrachem, ki lo tamu chasdecha, me’olam kivinu lach. V’al kulam yit’barach v’yitromam shimcha malkenu tamid l’olam va’ed. V’chol hachayim yoducha, selah, viyhal’lu et shimcha be’emet, ha’El y’shu’atenu v’ezratenu. Selah.

Baruch Atah, Adonai, hatov Shimcha, ul’cha na’eh l’hodot.

Meaning:

We thank you, for you are our God, God of our mothers and fathers, forever.

You are the rock of our lives, the shield of our salvation, from generation to generation. We thank you and tell of your praises, regarding our lives, delivered into your hand; regarding our souls, entrusted to you; regarding your miracles, performed daily; and regarding your wonders and favors, with us every moment, evening, morning, and noon. You are good, never-ending in mercy. You are merciful and your kindnesses never cease. Our hope is always with you. Regarding all of this, we bless and exalt your name always and forever. All living things will thank you, and they will praise your name in truth, God of our deliverance and our help.

Blessed are you, Adonai. Your name is good and to you we give our thanks.

Normally, when we see a Progressive service include a prayer, but reword, there is some objectionable material in the original. Unless we throw out the entire premise of prayer, I’m not sure we can find anything objectionable in the prayer. Yet, the WUPJ Kabalat Shabat service I’m writing about today massively truncates the prayer and inserts a new sentence of little consequence.

Throwing out all of what I’ve chunked out as the middle paragraph above, this service gives us one sentence in its stead:

Nodeh l’cha al kol hatovot v’hachesed v’rachamim shegamaltanu v’she’asita imanu v’im doroteinu sh’milfaneinu.

Meaning, I think:

We thank you regarding all the favors and the kindness and the mercy that you benefit us with and that you do for us and for our generations.

Okay. So effectively, all that the editors have done with this prayer is massively condense it and introduce some tongue-twister words sure to trip up anyone whose Hebrew reading skills are less than excellent.

So. Concluding thoughts on this whole service. From what I can tell, this service was used only once, as part of a large WUPJ convention. It was designed to showcase the poetry and the litrugical innovations of worldwide Progressive/Liberal/Reform/Reconstructionist Jewry. And as showcase of that, the service does a fine job. I am simply let wondering what many of the “innovators” whose work was borrowed for this service were thinking.

[EDIT: The comments to this post are required reading. Some very enlightening stuff there.]

WUPJ Kabalat Shabat review, part IV

Parts I, II, III, and the original post.

In the last installment of this series, I discussed this service’s treatment of Avot. Today, I’ll skip ahead to its treatment of R’tzeih.

R’tzeih, rendered in its traditional form, is problematic Progressive Jews, so we would expect to see this World Union service make some alteration. The alteration it makes is surprising; I’ve never seen this particular approach before and I’m left wondering where it came from.

The traditional R’tzeih reads like this:

R’tzeih Adonai, Eloheinu, b’amcha Yisrael. Ut’filatam v’hasev et ha’avodah lidvir beitecha, v’ishei Yisrael ut’filatam b’ahavah t’kabel b’ratzon, ut’hi l’ratzon tamid avodat Yisrael amecha.

V’techezeinah eineinu b’shuv’cha l’Tzion b’rachamim. Baruch atah, Adonai, hamachzir sh’chinato l’Tzion.

Meaning:

Favor, Adonai, our God, the prayers of your people, Israel. Restore their worship and their fire-offerings to your House. Accept their prayers in love. May the worship of your people be desirabel to you.

May our eyes see the return of your compassion to Zion. Blessed are You, Adonai, who returns his presence to Zion.

This has been an issue for Progressive Jews due to a non-belief in the desirability of a return to sacrificial worship in the Temple. Our liturgists have dealt with this in a variety of ways, the most common being to simply delete the words ” v’hasev et ha’avodah lidvir beitecha, v’ishei Yisrael” so that there is no mention of any change in how we worship, no mention of a return to the Temple.

Unfortunately, this renders the prayer essentially redundant. In this form, the prayer asks for nothing other than asking for God to like our prayers. This is simply repetetive when you consider that just a few prayers before this, you said Sh’ma Koleinu, which is all about reception of prayer.

I don’t advocate, by any means, retaining the Temple-centric language. I only mean to point out the problem that this causes a big problem for the Progressive liturgist.

The WUPJ Kabalat Shabat service we’re talking about here puts it like this:

R’tzeih Adonai, Eloheinu, b’amcha Yisrael ut’filatam. B’ahavah t’kabel. Ut’hi l’ratzon tamid avodat Yisrael amecha. Ush’chon b’Tzion v’ya’avducha avadecha biY’rushalayim.

V’techezeinah eineinu b’shuv’cha l’Tzion b’rachamim. Baruch atah, Adonai, hamachzir sh’chinato v’amo l’Tzion.

There are two big changes here. One I find to be an adequate change to the troublesome phrasing discussed above, while the other I find to be gratuitous and unnecessary.

To solve the Temple issue here, the editors have removed the troublsome clause entirely, opting to insert a different sentence at the end of the first paragraph. There is one word standing in my ability to accurately translate the sentence, so someone correct me if this is wrong. I believe the new sentence says “Dwell in Zion and the worship of your worshipers will be in Jerusalem.”

The second change is in the final line of the prayer, which has received a single extra word, clearly under the influence of a Progressive Zionist agenda. The line now reads, “Blessed are You, Adonai, who returns his presence and his people to Zion.”

The first change is one of the most viable altered lines I’ve seen proposed for an altered, Progressive take on this prayer. The added “his people” in the final line, however, is unnecessary.

[EDIT: The comments to this post are officially a part of the post. Read them. There is something very enlightening there.]

A great back-and-forth

It’s time like this that I remember why I love the unique world of blogging.

A few days ago, an edition of Ten Minutes of Torah written by Lewis M. Barth appreared. This issue suggested (gasp) that Reform Jews might begin to observe Tishah B’Av.

Then, over at RJ.org, a post written by Rabbi Joel R. Schwartzman appeared expressing extreme discomfort with Barth’s ideas.

I found Rabbi Schwartzman’s thoughts interesting, but I disagreed. So today, also over at RJ.org, you can read my vehement disagreement with Rabbi Schwartzman.

They say that when three people sit and excahnge words of Torah, the Divine Presence resides with them. I wonder if it counts if the three people are nowhere near each other pysically?

Service Times: The Summer Solution

I was on Long Island most of last week. On Friday night, I attended services at the Community Synagogue in Port Washington. On Firday nights in the summer, they manage to lead services in a way that does not contradict the position of the sun. I’ll explain.

In most congregation, if Firday night services begin at 7:30, they always begin at 7:30, even during the summer when the sun doesn’t set until 8:15 or 8:30. At the Community Synagogue, however, they begin services at 7:30 on Firday nights. But it’s not an erev Shabat service. It’s weekday minchah, the afternoon service! They follow minchah with Kabalat Shabat, candles, and kidush. Then everyone goes home. Genius.

Meanwhile at RJ.org…

Yesterday’s post, Foreign Prophets, Foreign Songs, has been crossposted to RJ.org. There’s a lively discussion in the comments there as well, which you should all feel free to check out.

Tyler Benjamin on Reform Judaism @ RJ.org

I forgot to mention this when it happened the other day. The series continues at RJ.org with the thoughts of Tyler Benjamin.

Foreign prophets, foreign songs

Two summers ago, here at Kutz, a girls’ cabin led services one day. As we all entered the tron, they were standing at the front singing and clapping their hands. The song goes like this:

Lord, prepare me

To be a sanctuary

Pure and holy

Tried and true

With thanksgiving

I’ll be a living

Sanctuary for you

It’s a nice song. The message is fairly basic and unobjectionable. The tune is catchy and sounds slightly gospel. I like it. Since then, I’ve also heard a variation that incoporates a quote from Torah, “V’asu li Mikdash, v’shachanti b’tocham” (“Build me a sanctuary and I will dwell amongst you”). I like that version even better. When people found out that this verse of song is actually part of a larger song from the wonderful world on contemporary Christian music, they went nuts. The rest of the song is not explicitly Jesus-centric or anything like that, though it does sound very Christian, talking about being led away from temptation. (Of course one could argeu that that’s our topic also, but that we’ve left by the wayside because Christians speak so much about it.)

All week, we were hearing about how upset people were about the use of this songs in a Jewish service. This week also happened to be the week of Parashat Balak. Balak, aside from being one of my absolute favorite Torah portions, details the story of Bilam, a foreign prophet of God hired by a Moabite king, Balak, to ride out to the Israelity encampment and curse them. When he goes to curse them, God changes the words in his mouth into a blessing and out comes a poem of blessing. The first line is familiar to us because it now appears in every morning service: “Mah tovu ohalecha, Ya’akov mishk’notecha, Yisra’el!” (“How good are your tents, Jacob, your dwelling places, Israel!”)

This coincidence gets even better. Not only did we have an uproar on camp about the use of a non-Jewish song in services coincide with a Torah portion including a foreign prophet’s song that we know use in services, not only did I notice this wonderful coincidence, but I was scheduled to deliver the d’var Torah that week. You can imagine what I spoke about that Shabat morning.

My point was that if we can take a poem uttered with the intent to curse us and make it into a regular part of a service, we can handle one verse of totally unobjectionable Christian song.

In retrospect, I’m not sure that I was right. I was given the chance to revisit this story this week. Friday evening services were led this week, beautifully, by the songleading major taught by Caryn Roman and Jesse Paikin. They began with “Lord prepare me.” If you’re paying attention, you know that this last Shabat was Shabat Balak once again. You can imagine what was on my mind during services that evening.

I got to thinking not just about this particular issue, but about one of the the popular tunes for Psalm 150, which is actually a Sufi melody (Alah hu, Alah hu, Alah hu, etc.) I thought about the Phish song “Wading in the Velvet Sea” and the Bob Marley song “Redemption Song.” In my four summers at Kutz, I’ve heard both used as tunes for Mi Chamocha. I thought about a half-dozen other secular and non-Jewish melodies used in services. And I wonder if it’s okay.

There’s no doubt in my mind that the melody itself is not the issue. It’s the text. We have the entire Tanach, two Talmuds, and about eight million other Jewish texts out there to choose from. I wonder if we need to go to other traditions to find what we want to say. I wonder if we can’t find it somewhere in one of our own texts.

ציצת טליסמן

I first wrote about my practice of wearing tzitzit via a talit katan every day here. That was in November of 2006. It’s been over a year and a half since that post. I think it’s about time to do a little review of my practice of wearing tzitzit.

As noted in the first post about tzitzit, I (famously, in some circles) view the practice of wearing tzitzit all day as essentially wearing what one might call Anti-Asshole Fringes. That is not to say that they keep assholes away, but that they keep me from being an asshole. To be honest, I’m not sure that they’re doing the job any more. I think that tossing them on under my t-shirt every morning may have become so rote and habitual, that whatever they may have done for me at one time is gone.

To be even more honest, I’m not sure that they ever truly altered my behavior. I’ll explain.

I was having a chat with a faculty member here at Kutz earlier this week. She mentioned to me that one of her children, whom I think is no older than ten or eleven (probably younger than that, even) announced to her while they were on a family trip to Israel several months ago that he wanted to buy a talit katan and wear around every day. Being a good Reform Jew, she encouraged him to experiment with his personal ritual practices and bought him a talit katan.

All over Israel, for the rest of the vacation, he wore these fringes. When they came home, he continued wearing them. For months, he wore them to school every day. Apparently, there was some sort of bullying going at school druing this period. Get this: When the bullying ended, he stopped wearing the tzitzit. He didn’t stop wearing them because he was being bullied, as one might expect Rather, he stopped wearing them because the bullying came to an end.

His mother’s assessment of this situation was that perhaps the tzitzit had provided him with some sort of grounding, some sort of security blanket, if you will, to hold on to during a rough patch in life. This got me thinking about some of the more anthroplogical assessments of the reasons for tzitzit, as well as t’filin and m’zuzot. Some say, and I buy into this to some extent, that these rituals were originally essentially good luck charms or talismans that protected one’s body, or one’s home from phyisical and spirtual harm from outside evil forces. This child was, according to his mother’s judgement of the situation, using the tzitzit to this end.

This really got me thinking about my real original reasons for wearing tzitzit nearly two years ago.

I was in high school. I was in Israel. I was in the first real romantic elationship I’d ever been in. I was thinking for the first time very seriously about some of the things that plague me to this day. I was thinking about ritual and prayer and the future and end of the world and God and Israel and capital-L Love and I was about to go to Poland and see all of this Shaoh shit and I was just really mixed and feeling and thinking eight million things at once. Whew.

So, in retrospect, did I really feel a sudden need to better my own behavior towards other people through the wearing of goofy fringes under my t-shirt? Or was I reaching out for some sort of bodily protection from the confliction and confusion I was going through at the time?