June 12 marks the 50th anniversary of the assassination of Medgar Evers, the first NAACP field secretary for the state of Mississippi and an important leader in the Civil Rights Movement.
Evers’ name has been prominent lately. In addition to the upcoming anniversary, his widow, Myrlie Evers-Williams, delivered the invocation at President Barack Obama’s second inauguration. An article by Jerry Mitchell on the aftermath of Medgar Evers’ assassination by white supremacist terrorists was featured this week in USA Today. Jackson, Mississippi newspaper The Clarion-Ledger also plans to re-publish a 1963 short story on the assassination that was written by Eudora Welty.
In honor of Medgar Ever’s accomplishments and sacrifice, The Medgar and Myrlie Evers Institute is sponsoring several commemorative events. Today in Washington, D.C., there will be a memorial service at Arlington National Cemetery (10:30 a.m) and a symposium on his legacy at the Newseum (7:30 p.m.) Events continue in Jackson, Mississippi, tomorrow through Sunday. If you are in or near either city, please view the full schedule and consider attending one or more of the ceremonies.
As we each find our freedom bound up in the freedom of others, we should take this opportunity both to celebrate the brave accomplishments of those who came before us and to mourn the loss of Medgar Evers and other activists who sacrificed their lives in the name of freedom. Now is a good time to ask: What have we done and what can we still do to pursue justice, freedom and equality, for ourselves and, most importantly, for others?
I’m involved with a wonderful collection of people in Jackson who work hard to put on Figment, a participatory arts festival that we like to describe as an “art pot luck” party. Artists are asked to install pieces that encourage some kind of artistic participation.
My project was inspired during a meeting when the Figment team was trying to figure out a way to create a border around the festival, which was taking place on the streets of Jackson’s Midtown neighborhood. Earlier this year I had received information about a wonderful exhibit at the Yeshiva University Museum. It’s a Thin Line was an exhibit about the Manhattan eruv and included a fascinating short video about its history and significance. Inspired by this very public and creative Jewish tradition, I thought of adapting the practice for my Figment project.
My idea was to create a Figment Eruv that enforces the 11 principles of Figment within its borders. Really an inverse of the Jewish tradition, this eruv was intended to be a place in which people are reminded to keep the rules.
An eruv in Jackson, Mississippi? Certainly the first of its kind and I was ready for the challenge. I did a little research and figured out it would take about 3,000 feet of pink masonry twine, a 15 foot ladder and one handsome brave husband to climb said ladder. Over three days it took us about 5 hours to hang all of the string. I gained a new appreciation for ladder safety.
On the Tuesday afternoon before the festival, some guys who own the local garage along the route came out to see what we were doing. I worried they would be upset that we were stringing along the side of their building but the three men just looked up. Without questioning why we were doing it, they immediately began advising us on the best place to wind the string and how to avoid electrocuting ourselves on the transformer.
I’m glad they were amenable because it was important to me that this eruv not create barriers or borders with negative connotations within the neighborhood and its residents. I wanted it to create an inclusive temporary sacred space that separates the joyful Figment world from the ordinary and mundane.
During the weekend I had a great time watching visitors discover the eruv. They would bend down to read a short description of the project, then stand up, look to the sky and smile and they circled around to see how the string encompassed the area.
I was happy to have brought a secular interpretation of this often obscure religious practice to my neighborhood. Even my friends that have a pretty good Jewish education, probably because of being friends with me, had never heard of an eruv. It was a neat chance to talk with people about the tradition and why it works in this particular occasion.
Because one of the principles of Figment is “Leave No Trace”, on Sunday I pulled most of the string down. A few small pink knots were stuck up on the electric poles, tied around nails and staples. I decided not to worry about it. Much like a Jewish eruv represents the commandment to keep Shabbat, those tiny pink knots will represent the principles of Figment and be a reminder to sneak in just a little bit of that creative Figment spirit into ordinary mundane days.
Full disclosure: Kveller.com is a partner site of our host, MyJewishLearning.
In a recent blog post on the Jewish parenting site Kveller, Joyce Anderson wrote about the process of teaching her oldest son to pray. For Anderson, teaching her child to speak to God, preceded (or facilitated, perhaps) her attempts to talk with him about God. Interestingly, Anderson is not Jewish; she is a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Her article is one of several non-Jewish perspectives in Kveller’s God Month, an ongoing series on the challenges of talking to children about God.
While Anderson shows no ambivalence about encouraging her child to develop a personal relationship with the divine, the other responses in the series present more complicated experiences of parenting and faith. Among all the essays, Jewish or not, hers is the only one that takes for granted that children should believe in God. Taken together, the articles point towards a basic truth: we aren’t that good at talking about God.
At first, I found this troubling. The ambivalence about God in the Jewish responses certainly reflects editorial choices or selection bias, but it still squares with my own experience of non-Orthodox Jewish life in America. Reading through the pieces, I found myself wondering, “Do any of us simply believe?”
Anderson’s prayer-based solution makes a lot of sense, especially given the deeply personal relationship between individuals and God in Christ-centered theologies. Prayer takes a central role in a few of the Jewish responses, as well, but in a different way. For the Jewish parents that write about prayer, showing a child how to pray also helps him or her relate to God personally, but the contributors’ own sense of God remains less defined. For them, the advantage of prayer is that it acknowledges and celebrates a creative force in the universe without limiting how we conceive of that force.Tellingly, of the two Jewish parents who write about sharing their personal religious practices with their children, both include prayers from Eastern traditions, like Buddhism.
Several God Month contributors—including self-identified Jews—reject the idea of God altogether, or at least bracket off questions about God’s nature and existence as unknowable and inessential to an ethical life. These writers express ambivalence about the prospect of raising a religious child, though they note the importance of teaching their kids to respect other people’s religious traditions. Some of the skeptics are attached in one way or another to Jewish culture and identity, and even want their children to have the option of choosing a more spiritual life.
Now, I’m neither traditionally observant nor deeply spiritual. I do not intend to criticize anyone’s personal practice or to bemoan some lost golden age of Jewish observance. I am struck, however, by absence of modern Jewish voices that speak confidently about God, both in the Kveller series and in my own experiences.
Perhaps, though, the issue is not that we are bad at talking about God, but that God is and should be difficult to talk about. Sometimes, especially when children come into play, we may feel need for a simpler or more concrete sense of the divine. But complete certainty (fundamentalism) is a dangerous thing, and what kind of God could be understood through mere human speech, anyway?
The tensions and contradictions expressed in the Kveller series might not reflect deficiencies in our communities, but a healthy struggle between traditional beliefs and universal values. I still hope that the series will include a Jewish writer who approaches the topic of God with more certainty and less ambiguity, but I can also accept and appreciate the articles that are there so far. They represent a real effort to do right by our children when it comes to God talk. I’m not a parent yet, but I hope (God willing) that the questions raised by God Month are ones I will one day have to answer both for myself and my children.