The intrepid BBC crew traveled with Rabbi Marshal Klaven, visited with community members in Jackson, Vicksburg, Greenwood, and Greenville – where they also attended the Delta Jewish Open.
It’s a great story, absolutely worth a listen and a read – particularly since listening means hearing the music, full quotes, and sounds of the South portrayed in beautiful audio, and reading the story means a stroll through some great images. The keen observations and reflections the reporter conveys move the piece along thoughtfully and swiftly. It’s a great piece, and for a radio piece, quite long.
But such pieces are never quite long enough to tell the full story. That’s why we’re grateful for this blog, for social media, for traveling staff and speaking opportunities and the chance for longer storytelling. The chance to share observations like this one, from ISJL Board Member Gail Goldberg of Greenwood, Mississippi (who was interviewed for the story, and shared these thoughts after hearing it air and seeing the “End of a Deep South Way of Life” headline):
“The BBC story was a great tribute to those before us and for whom we ‘stand on their shoulders’ to move forward. With great respect to the amazing story, I offer my thoughts: My personal commitment to Judaism has been strengthened by our small community size. For my husband Mike and me, sustaining Jewish life here is not only a responsibility, but also a sacred privilege. Perhaps we are the ‘new’ model for Judaism. In bigger cities, when a congregation grows too large to be personal anymore, families splinter off and start chavurah groups or new congregations.
“We already are a chavurah. Our Jewish community is as personal, as warm, and as rewarding as they come. In Greenwood, we continue to gather and we continue to live full and committed Jewish lives. Yes, right here in the Mississippi Delta. Our synagogue is operational, our cemetery is well maintained, our membership is very engaged, our programming reflects our love of Judaism, our learning is ongoing and each of us feels extremely proud of our shul and our Judaism. We are connected to our community in many diverse ways, as has been the fact for over 100 years. Don’t say Kaddish for us yet. We have a lot of Jewish life left to live!”
And let us say, Amen. Those are our favorite parts of the Southern Jewish story: the stories of small communities still vibrant, of new and growing Jewish communities still small but growing in strength and numbers, of connections between communities, of pride in place. So much of that truly was captured beautifully in the BBC story, and we are grateful that through their telling of it, more people will hear about the Southern Jewish experience. Even as some doors close, others will open, and there’s always a next chapter to be shared.
What is the difference between a maze and a labyrinth?
A maze – as many of us know – is intended to be a structural challenge. Starting from point A, participants are challenged to make it to Point B, while avoiding as many wrong turns as possible, wrong turns that wind-up at potentially costly dead-ends.
Labyrinths, on the other hand, have no dead ends. Instead, they have just one path that twist and turns itself to the center and back again, ending where it began though – because of the journey taken – participants feel and even arguably are different than before.
“So, which one typifies the journey of your life: the maze, or the labyrinth?”
This is the question I have begun to pose to participants of our newest ISJL rabbinic project: The Linda Pinkus Memorial Labyrinth, which is presently in the testing-stage and is slated to be released in early 2014.
And remarkably, in reviving this centuries old practice in Judaism, an interesting pattern has emerged. Among younger adults, an overwhelming majority sees life more like a maze; while among older adults life is likened more to a labyrinth. But, why? What accounts for this difference?
According to the ensuing conversation, younger adults identified with the maze more because the course of life – as they saw it – is dictated by choice. Choose the right way, you are rewarded with success. Choose the wrong way, and you’ll end up squandering precious time and resources.
“Yep,” slowly responded an older gentleman. “But, looking back, you come to see that whether life’s a maze or labyrinth, there’s still only one way through. It’s just that a labyrinth incorporates the dead-ends into the journey as twist and turns of lessons learned that made one’s life interesting to live.”
Whether one is looking forward or back, each has a valued perspective on the course of our human lives. But, what’s life look like from where you stand? Is it more like a maze or labyrinth? I’ll hope you’ll continue this conversation, which may reveal even more meaning about the course of our lives!
What makes our home Southern and Jewish? If you were blindfolded and brought into my home, it wouldn’t take you five minutes to understand that I am a proud Southern Jew.
I recently got married; my husband is not Jewish – nor does he claim any religion. Over the last several years, he has grown to respect and appreciate my Reform Judaism, and has enjoyed being a part of our Jewish traditions and community, a community which has welcomed him in with open arms. Together, we are creating a new Jewish home.
When we moved into our new home, we joyously went about displaying all of the things we love. With boxes unpacked one of the first things we did was to hang our mezuzzot. Like Jews around the world, “the door posts of our home” bear the first sign that ours is a Jewish home. Because my husband pays attention, he asked me a great question:
“Why aren’t we putting a mezzuzah on our gates?”
The answer: a mezuzah is placed where there is a ceiling and two doorposts; most of our modern day gates do not have ceilings, and so there is no requirement to place one “upon your gates.” A great question!
Beyond the mezuzzot, we have many Jewish symbols that would likely be found in any Jewish home across the world, including our Shabbat candle sticks and the Kiddush cup and kippot from our wedding. On the dining wall is a poster of an IDF soldier praying at the wall; beside that, we have a signed and numbered print entitled Shabbat Cotton, which embodies both Southern and Jewish beauty. I also have on display mementos from serving as President of Temple Sinai of New Orleans, and a beautiful menorah from the mayor of our sister city in Israel, Rosh Ha’ayin, given to me on the occasion of stepping down as chair of Partnership 2000.
Adding to the Southern-ness, there’s a den wall displaying my prized Mardi Gras posters (I’m a New Orleans native), and there is a Texas star from my husband’s home state, and of course, several fleur de lis! As they say, New Orleans Jews really are different than any other Jews in the world, because we live in Parishes and pray for Saints (the state of Louisiana is divided into Parishes instead of Counties because of its French and Catholic roots, and our beloved football team is the New Orleans Saints).
Enjoy a little photo-tour of our home, and a little taste of our own personal Southern Jewish life. After all, what really makes our home Southern and Jewish?
We live in it!