Recently, Southern Sunday School students did a program on Jewish heroes. The students were having a great time, collaborating, playing games—all while hundreds of miles apart.
For the Global Day of Jewish Learning, we gathered students and teachers in Pinehurst, North Carolina, for this program on Jewish heroes. More students than you’d usually find in the Pinehurst classroom showed up—because half of our participants weren’t in Pinehurst. They weren’t even in North Carolina. They were actually in Greenville, South Carolina, three and a half hours away!
Stop the presses. Has the ISJL figured out how to split Education Fellows like me into two pieces, so that we can be in two different cities at once? Have we discovered the secret to Hermione Granger’s famous time-turner from the Harry Potter books?
Unfortunately, we are still working on the time-turner. But what we have mastered is an important 21st century skill – the art of effective, engaging interactive video calling.
We use video calling technology almost every day from our office in Jackson, Mississippi. Whether communicating with staff members working in other cities or with Bar/Bat Mitzvah students located around our region, doing important Jewish work via Skype or Google Hangout is a regular part of day-to-day work at the ISJL. So, when Sandhills Jewish Congregation in Pinehurst and Congregation Beth Israel in Greenville expressed interest in setting up a program, where their students could meet (virtually), I was eager to make it happen.
Our program was entitled the “Jewish Olympics” and it was very similar to a Maccabiah experience that might occur at Jewish camp. There were a variety of games that we played with and against one another, from Jewpardy (Jewish-themed Jeopardy) to a Play-doh sculpture contest. The ruach (spirit) of all the teams, across both cities and through our screens, was quite impressive.
One of the highlights of the program was our Jewish Heroes scavenger hunt. For this scavenger hunt, there were images of 20 Jewish Heroes hidden in the two congregations, with short biographies of their achievements included so that the kids could learn a bit about them. Half of the images were hidden in Beth Israel (Greenville) and half were at SJC (Pinehurst). The blue team in Greenville, for example, had to find all ten of their heroes, while their teammates in Pinehurst, had to find all ten of theirs. On the back of each clue was a letter, and upon finding all the clues, in both cities the teams had to work with their teammates in the other city via Skype to put the letters together and decode a secret message.
The message? “We made new Jewish friends.”
We wrapped up with “Closing Ceremonies” and with students in Greenville performing “Wherever You Go, There’s Always Someone Jewish” for the students in Pinehurst.
In years to come, I think it is safe to say that technology will help us innovate entirely new ways of educating Jewish students. But we should not assume that such innovating can only occur in the future. We are already living in a time when it is possible to program across virtually any geographical boundary using applications available for free . What this means for the future of Jewish education is still an open-ended question. But with some imagination and experimentation, we just might find answers to that question that fundamentally re-shape and re-create our Jewish future.
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I am an avid television watcher, to say the least. My weekly repertoire includes everything from sports and the news, to reality TV and cop shows—I’m an equal opportunity viewer. Right now, I keep up with about 25 shows (which, even to me, seems insane).
In the recent past, my packed schedule might seem daunting. It would mean staying in most nights, planted in front of the TV, ignoring plans and friends. Now, with a few taps on my iPad screen and a Wi-Fi signal, I can stream whatever I missed, at my own convenience. Thanks to online streaming services and network television websites, almost every episode of every program is readily accessible.
So, what does this have to do with Judaism?
Synagogues across the country are live-streaming their services. With a simple google search for “stream Shabbat,” one can access Shabbat services from congregations across the country and across the movements. Not only can folks click on and stream, but also some congregations even store services in online archives, to be accessed for on-demand play.
Television streaming has been heralded as the end of appointment television—could streaming services mean the end of appointment Judaism?
Before I moved to the South and started working full time, I attended Shabbat services with frequency. This was important to me, especially considering I’m part of the 20-35 year old demographic seemingly absent from many congregational Jewish communities. Getting to shul was easy in Columbus, Ohio—and I had options. That’s not the case, though, in many of the communities the ISJL serves.
Rest assured, Jewish communities are alive and well in the South (and some are even live-streaming their services!), but often, there is only one option for a synagogue in town. Whereas folks in cities with larger Jewish populations can essentially congregation shop, picking a rabbi and worship style in tune with their own preferences, it’s not always an option in smaller, rural towns.
No Conservative service in your town? You can stream it. Your friend’s son is a rabbi in Detroit? You can stream it. You can’t spend the hour in the car it would take to get to temple? Too tired? Can’t find a babysitter? Stream. Stream. Stream.
I, for one, love the entryways to Jewish practice that online streaming provides. It makes religious observance accessible to people who might otherwise not hear Torah chanted or find a min’yan to say Kaddish. But I understand the hesitation some might feel before jumping on board.
I think a primary concern is that worshipers will replace live attendance with online streaming—synagogues, especially those small in size, will close. The sense of community built in Hebrew school classes, sisterhood meetings, and oneg Shabbats will dwindle. Just as appointment TV has fallen by the wayside, so too will congregational Judaism. That narrative makes sense to me, until I hear stories from people actually streaming services.
A friend of mine is a recent college graduate. When he left home for college, he moved across the country. After graduating and taking a job, he, again, moved. This Yom Kippur, he attended Kol Nidrei services at the local congregation. On Yom Kippur, he spent the day streaming services from across the United States. One from home, one from school—he was able to stay connected to the communities that instilled in him the importance of Jewish practice and tradition without eschewing the local congregation.
In the South, it’s sometimes hard to find one Jewish service. We now have access to an entire world of options, and we don’t have to disengage in our own communities to access them. Streaming Judaism won’t replace the importance of connections, in person, but can be a wonderful supplement to traditional appointment Judaism, offering even more opportunities for Jewish life. And that’s an incredible thing.
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This blog post was written by Anna Stusser, a summer intern currently working in the Museum Department at the ISJL.
Vinyl records capture the imagination. In my hometown of Olympia, Washington, independent craft artists fashion bowls to and household items out of vinyl, appealing to the local indie market. In Brooklyn, the hipster set has revived an interest in vinyl records. I, too, have always seen the charm in the shape and vintage appeal of record players – which is why I became so excited when, in my first few days interning at the ISJL, I found some vintage LP records in the ISJL collection.
It is hard to imagine that modern day hipster twentysomethings, smoking cigarettes on a Brooklyn stoop, have anything in common with a small early-twentieth Southern Jewish congregation. (Other than maybe being Jewish – apparently, Jewish hipsters are their own subculture, and they’re into vinyl!)
But here they were, vintage vinyl records that would be prized today in Brooklyn, donated to the ISJL’s museum collection by a congregation in Columbia, Tennessee. Why were these vinyl records important to the daily life of their congregation? Why would Jews have vinyl records that they would consider important enough to donate to a museum that dedicates itself to Southern Jewish ethnography?
After discussing it with my supervisor and reviewing the titles of such records (some example: Kol Nidre and Eili, Eili), I began to understand that these vinyl records had been something less trendy, and more functional. More meaningful.
To listen to Cantor Moshe Koussevitzky Singing Aneinu, as featured on one of the records, you can play this recording on YouTube (unfortunately not available as an embedded video, but worth a listen!).
Jews worshiping in Columbia, Tennessee, in the first half of the twentieth century, had no full time rabbi to guide them. Many of the Jewish people living in the area commuted into Nashville for their spiritual needs. However, in the early part of the 1900s, a group of people started the Khal Kadosh Congregation, a name which means “Holy Community.” Bilingual services were held in Hebrew and English for a congregation of 16, just barely above the size of a minyan, took place on the second floor of community member Isaac Wolf’s store. Although they had no permanent location, the small congregation acquired an Ark and a Torah. The records from Columbia very likely supplemented the services provided. Unfortunately, Khal Kadosh did not survive past 1926, so we do not know for sure.
But it’s a likely conclusion that the Jewish people living in Columbia utilized vinyl records out of necessity, because that was the technology that was available at the time. Back then, vinyl wasn’t vintage. It was cutting edge.
Small congregations like the one once found in Columbia, TN, still exist today. In the South, many of them are served by the ISJL’s rabbinic department, led by Rabbi Marshal Klaven. From Skype B’nai Mitzvah lessons to sending out his Taste of Torah weekly emails, today’s virtual resources have replaced those found on vinyl.
Do you remember vinyl – or as a young adult, are you discovering it for the first time? We’d love to hear your vinyl stories, especially if you’ve ever listened to recordings of Jewish music!