I was listening to National Public Radio on the way into work this morning, hearing more and more details of the government shutdown. We are now into day three, and quite frankly it seems to be an exercise in pettiness and downright bullying on the part of some members of our national leadership.
Who will back down first? Who will win this… contest, if you will?
And while they face off, can they believe that they are truly working for the good of the American people? People like the one million government workers who are “furloughed” and not receiving a salary; the millions impacted by government programs that are shut down; those whose health and livelihood are in limbo?
Or are they just furthering their own agendas?
I had a flashback to a prayer that we say every year during the high holidays. It’s found in the Gates of Repentance Prayer Book. Perhaps we need to say it again:
For our Nation and Its Rulers
We pray for all who hold positions of leadership and responsibility in our national life. Let your blessing rest upon them, and make them responsive to Your will, so that our nation may be to the world an example of justice and compassion. Deepen our love for our country and our desire to serve it. Strengthen our power of self-sacrifice for our nation’s welfare. Teach us to uphold its good name by our own right conduct. Cause us to see clearly that the well-being of our nation is in the hands of all its citizens; imbue us with zeal for the cause of liberty in our own land and in all lands; and help us always to keep our homes safe from affliction, strife, and war.
Today’s post is from Education Fellow Amanda Winer.
“Kids, let me tell you the story of how I met your Rabbi.”
Okay, so that’s NOT how the latest episode of “How I Met Your Mother” began this week- but there has been some buzz around the interwebs this week regarding one of the Jewish stars of the popular sitcom.
Earlier this week, Reform Judaism featured this post by Josh Radnor, who stars as Ted Mosby on “How I Met Your Mother.” The post is a prayer written by Radnor, which is excerpted from the upcoming book Unscrolled, which describes itself “the new book in which 54 leading Jewish writers, artists, photographers, screenwriters, and more grapple with the first five books of the Bible, giving new meaning to the 54 Torah portions.”
Radnor’s prayer offers a very interesting interpretation of the first book of the Torah, B’reishit (Genesis). I definitely suggest you read the piece; one part that really stood out to me was the dual genders when he refers to God’s role as our creator/parent: “When the Father said, ‘Let there be light,’ the Mother answered, ‘And there was light.’”
This instantly reminded me of Avinu Mal’keinu, the poem that many communities recite aloud during the high holidays. Avinu Mal’keinu itself means “our father, our king” and that, many progressive communities have grabbled with. In favor of gender neutrality, communities yielded to a couple different strategies. For example, Machzor Ruach Chadashah from the UK Liberal Judaism omovement uses the feminine attribute of God, Shechinah, in their interpretation of this prayer.
The only thing that I know for sure is that there is no clear way that everyone relates to or refers to God, but I can definitely understand God’s role as a parent.
Wait! IS THAT who the mother is?! That would have saved me years of wondering and days of Netflix binge watching!
Just kidding. You’ll have to watch the show to find out who “the mother” is – and you’ll have to wrestle with the prayers to figure out if you think of God as father, mother, or both.
What do you think? Does God feel like a parent to you? If you communicate with God, do you have a gender in mind?
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.