Today’s reflective post comes from Education Fellow Lex Rofes.
The end of summer can be a whirlwind for ISJL Education Fellows, as many of us spend the majority of our time traveling throughout the Southern region, getting to know Southern Jewish communities and preparing for the upcoming year of religious school. It is an incredibly exciting experience, and it has really energized us, in the weeks leading up to the High Holidays, and still, now – throughout the remaining autumn Jewish holidays. Wonderful as energy is, though, at times reflection is what we crave.
Thus, while in Houston with two other Education Fellows, we decided to take a couple minutes away from the excitement to engage in a little bit of meditation and self-reflection. Now, we could have done this just about anywhere – no specific venue is required to be introspective, nor are there any necessary supplies. But we had heard about a fascinating place called the Rothko Chapel, a multi-faith center for contemplation and prayer, and we decided it might be worth checking out.
We were not disappointed.
The Rothko Chapel is truly one-of-a-kind. As we walked into the lobby, the first thing we did was sign in to the Chapel’s guest book. Looking at earlier visitors, we saw people from all around the country. We proudly added our names, and our home base of Jackson, Mississippi, to this vast and varied list of places, and we headed towards the prayer space.
At its entrance, there were a number of books, humbly resting side by side. Some might not think much of this, but it certainly caused me to stop and think. Next to one another were traditional holy texts from Judaism, Islam, Hinduism, Zoroastrianism, Christianity, and others. They were carefully placed side by side, with none taking precedence over the others. Implicit to me was the idea that none of them was “more correct” or “truer” than the others. This table made me stop in awe, because on it lay eight or nine texts that are, together, the basis for thousands and thousands of years of tradition, all over the world. There they were, quiet and ancient, for all to explore, analyze, study, or question.
What struck me about these books even more was that they were very well-worn. Where the covers might once have been shiny, they were now a little bit duller. Some of the pages were a little yellowed, and maybe even torn a little bit. I thought about this not because it makes the texts any less beautiful. On the contrary, I think it adds a great deal to them. There is something unbelievably tragic about a brand new book, impeccably shiny, being placed on a shelf only to go unused for years and years. These, however, through daily exploration by visitors from around the country and the world, have given new wisdom and growth to countless people. They have earned their scratches.
Next, we went into the chapel itself. There were only a couple of others inside as we entered, but we spread out to a few different corners of the octagonal room. There were benches in the center, mats for those who wanted to sit on the floor, and, most interestingly, fourteen black paintings on the walls. The paintings set the tone for a space that felt incredibly spiritual. I sat there for a while, my mind wandering from the texts in the lobby to how I might best do teshuvah (repentance) over the High Holidays, and eventually, to nothing. I sat there and thought about nothing for the first time in almost forever.
After awhile, the other Fellows and I got up to go. We rose at precisely the same moment, without speaking or gesturing, despite the fact that we had been facing in different directions and did not know exactly where the others were.
Visiting this chapel was an unbelievable experience. Through the texts, I saw quite literally what it looks like when Judaism exists peacefully, side by side, with other world religions. It reminded me of the delicate balancing act we engage in as we attempt to maintain a level of Jewish distinctiveness while simultaneously playing a role in the betterment of the world more generally. As we walked out of the building, I returned to my work for the ISJL, an organization adeptly and simultaneously carrying out both of those missions.
L’shanah tovah, y’all.
Sukkot offers some incredible starting points for discussion. The Sukkot holiday begins tonight and lasts for a week. Among other things, core to Sukkot is the sukkah itself: something that provides shelter, but is temporary.
One topic the ISJL’s curriculum focuses on is the concept of Ushpizin. This is the custom of inviting our ancestors into our Sukkah. While the traditional Ushpizin guests are biblical characters, it sets a precedent for inviting people who add value to our life into our personal dwelling, to allow them to help shape it and shape us.
This got me thinking. There are so many people who have been involved in social action and who have led various social justice campaigns, so… as someone committed to social justice, who would I want to invite into my temporary dwelling to sit and have some coffee and cake with and learn.Which also made me wonder – maybe even more importantly than the question of who would I invite in, is the question what would we talk about while we were in there?
I started Googling Sukkot and Jewish social activists, and what I came across is the group Jewish Women Watching and their 2007 Sukkot campaign, “Treyfing Sukkot.” I’d be curious to hear what you think. Jewish Women Watching had an interesting approach to Sukkot: “Sukkot is a time when we step outside of our comfort zones. We need to go beyond ʻsafe causesʼ and challenge the status quo.”
The campaign included sukkah decorations that highlighted causes that were, at the time, “kosher,” i.e. “safe causes”; while other decorations listed causes that were “treyf” – more polarizing, less “safe.” These decorations presented a real challenge to the Jewish community and Jewish individuals. From a quick glance at their website, it doesn’t look as though Jewish Women Watching is still an active group. However, one line quoted in the press release that announced this campaign stood out to me.
“The sukkah is a fragile dwelling, and for it to be kosher, it must be open.”
If our sukkah is truly open, who would we invite in? And would we only explore the safe, kosher questions or the challenging, treyf ones?
Who would you add to the Ushpizin guest list? What might you want to talk with them about?
I’m thankful for the internet everyday. I’m thankful when it guides me to a new restaurant, tells me the score of the football game, and provides video of the Ohio University marching band playing their version of a new viral music video “The Fox” by Ylvis.
But despite the silly stuff, I was genuinely thankful for the internet this Rosh Hashanah. Trapped in my home due to some semi-serious plumbing problems and a particularly slow moving plumber, I turned to my trusty friend and companion to help me celebrate the holiday.
First, this post on Tablet inspired me to get my hands dirty and bake myself a challah. What better way to celebrate the new year than my stuffing my face all day with sweet sweet carbs? Joan Nathan led me through a tricky six part braid and helped me pull off the most beautiful Jewish cooking moment of my life.
Next, I met up with Congregation Beth Adam, a congregation out of Loveland, Ohio that leads innovative and inspirational services online each week at OurJewishCommunity.org. Dedicated to the celebration of Jewish holidays and life cycle events, Beth Adam approaches Judaism from a humanistic perspective. I was first introduced to Congregation Beth Adam by Rabbi Laura Baum when she presented at last year’s ISJL Education Conference. She gave us a tour of their synagogue, complete with stained glass windows representing the Big Bang and a ner tamid in the shape of a DNA double helix. I knew they would help distract me from the pipes clanging under my house and get me in the mood for the new year.
Rabbi Baum and Rabbi Robert Barr are talented clergy and are magically able to exude warmth and welcoming over the internet. Sweet congregants approached the camera to send good wishes to friends and family watching at home. Besides the fantastic sermons, which really challenge traditional Jewish high holiday liturgy, my favorite part was a chat-bar besides the video stream. Instead of feeling guilty kibitzing with friends in the pews, participants are encouraged to chat simultaneously about the service. I made new friends from all over the world, some with physical disabilities who couldn’t make it to services, some who lived too far way to be there (like me), and others who came specifically for the unique approach of Beth Adam (like me, too!).
I sat in front of the screen, eating my freshly baked challah, apples, and honey and had a sincere and authentic Rosh Hashanah experience. And after 4 hours of jetting and root cutting, the plumber gave me the clear to use the bathrooms in my own home again. A wonderful sign of good things to come in the new year!
What did you do for Rosh Hashanah this year? Would you consider joining an online community for services? Why or why not?