The Rotem Bill explained

People have spilled large amounts of ink, virtual and tangible, about the recent conversion bill which hit the Israeli Knesset (Congress) floor, a law which would give designated Israeli Orthodox courts the sole rights over conversion to Judaism, and hence hold a monopoly over the age-old question of "who is a Jew" (certainly in reference to immigration to Israel).

The news left the banter of the Jewish world with Alana Newhouse's NYT Op/Ed; it continues to flow through the pages of the Jerusalem Post, HaAretz and every Jewish blog I've encountered thus far.
 
But my friend Jonah Lowenfeld has provided the best analysis I've seen thus-far. He outlines the politics of how the bill once really was out to help Russian immigrants gain status as Jews in Israel but turned to a political barnstorm of attempting to buy Charedi votes, giving political muscle to Rabbi Shlomo Riskin of Efrat and beyond.

If you read one article on the topic, this is the one to read.

It appears that the bill has been tabled until the next session of the Knesset, in no small part due to the outpouring of letters from Diaspora communities to PM Bibi Netanyahu (upwards of 50,000 — 25,000 through the Masorti website, alone).

Haven't written yet? Make it happen.

Israel and the Diaspora — Embracing Tension

A Dvar Torah for last week's parasha, "Matot-Masei." Delivered at Congregation Beth Judah, Ventnor, NJ.

V’horashtem et haaretz vishavtem ba. Ki lachem natati et haaretz lareshet otah.

“You shall take possession of the land and settle in it, for I have assigned the land to you to possess.” Numbers 33:53.

It’s a pretty specific order.

Nachmanides, Ramban, the medieval Biblical exegete, legalist and one of the first Kabbalists, lists this pasuk as the basis for one of Biblical imperatives — to dwell in the land and inherit it. Both Maimonides and Nachmanides cull the Torah and create a list of the 613 Biblically prescribed commandments — but Maimonides does not list a commandment to live in the land of Israel. Nachmanides does in his gloss to Maimonides’ list in Sefer HaMitzvot.

It’s another part of the chain in a centuries-long rabbinic argument about the place of Israel in the life of the Jewish people.

We find the aforementioned pasuk in Chapter 33, verse 53 of B’Midbar. But take a look at the previous 52 verses, beginning with the very name of the second of the two parshiot we read today, Mas’ei, from the Hebrew root to travel. It is a chapter of motion, of marching from place to place. Each detail matters. There is a story at each location in the journey.

From Ra’amses to Sukkot. To Etam. To  Pi-hahirot. To Marah. To Aleph. To Bet. To Tav.

And finally, enough of this wandering. You’ve gone far enough. Stop here. Go settle.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, the current chief rabbi of England, describes this journey in these terms:

“The paradox of Jewish history is that though a specific territory, the holy land, is at its heart, Jews have spent more time in exile than in Israel; more time longing for it than dwelling in it; more time traveling than arriving. Much of the Jewish story could be written in the language of today’s sedra: “They journeyed from X and camped at Y”. 

Hence the tension. On the one hand, monotheism must understand G-d as non-territorial. The G-d of everywhere can be found anywhere. He is not confined to this people, that place – as pagans believed. He exercises His power even in Egypt. He sends a prophet, Jonah, to Nineveh in Assyria. He is with another prophet, Ezekiel, in Babylon. There is no place in the universe where He is not. On the other hand, it must be impossible to live fully as a Jew outside Israel, for if not, Jews would not have been commanded to go there initially, or to return subsequently. Why is the G-d beyond place to be found specifically in this place?”

All of this, of course, I am saying during the week following July Fourth, the anniversary of American Independence. This is a land that has given room for the Jewish people to grow unlike any other country in history. Without any doubt amidst tribulations, it is simultaneously a haven which has welcomed the tired, the poor and at this point in history, provides the opportunity for social mobility, for expression of autonomy.

This year was only the second time in the past 17 years that I have seen the fireworks on July Fourth. I’ve either been at Camp Ramah in Wisconsin, in Israel or in a different country. After a year of studying in Israel, celebrating American Independence Day earlier this week reinforced the absolutely unique place in history in which all of us sits today. I am an American Jew, dedicated to my home community, my multiple communities here. And simultaneously I feel indelibly tugged toward a land and people across an ocean.

I spent this past year thrusting myself toward an Israeli experience of life. Speaking Hebrew was my entrance to Judaism; I raced through the work books during my fourth grade Hebrew school class and asked my parents to go to Solomon Schechter the following year. And they agreed. I continue to find Israeli music to be one of the most authentic engagements with contemporary Jewish life, living lyrical expression of centuries’ old themes. Modern rock and roll painted with the brush strokes of ancient stones.

On May 31, I jumped and sang along with three generations to the 25^th anniversary concert of the rock band Mashina. During sukkot, lights and sounds bounced off a wadi by the dead sea as both “secular” and religious Jews bounced up and down to Gidi Gov’s version of Yaaleh v’Yavo. This can only happen in Israel. As the refrain of another rock song goes, “Rak B’Yisrael.” Only in Israel.

We have autonomy in America. It is a home.

Israel represents the building of Jewish civil society, the religious and cultural dream of a nation. 

And because we have these multiple opportunities, these two nations of growth, of depth, along comes tension. And it’s one we should relish.

It’s fundamentally a tension which has been a part of our condition from the outset.

Complexity is the authentic position of our tradition. Certainly about this particular case of our relationship with Israel.

We find two polar statements in the writings of our Rabbis about our case at hand. From the Tannaitic Midrash Mekhilte d’Rabbi Ishmael: “Wherever the Israelites went into exile, the Divine presence was exiled with them.” Clearly, God’s presence is not tied to a particular place. After all, God is God.

In turn, virtually the opposite from Massechet Ketubot of the Talmud (110b): “One who leaves Israel to live elsewhere is as if he had no God.”

Entrenched throughout the Rabbinic cannon there is conflict. Between the rationalism of the school of Ishmael and the irrationalism of the school of Akiva. Between describing an immanent and a transcendent God in peoples’ lives. And here, between God who is with the people Israel in all places and at all times and who has a special seat in Jerusalem.

“Can one find God, serve God, experience God, outside the holy land? asks Rabbi Sacks. “Yes and No. If the answer were only Yes, there would be no incentive to return. If the answer were only No, there would be no reason to stay Jewish in exile. On this tension, the Jewish existence is built.”

As Jews sitting along the coast of America, the mandate in turn must be how we acknowledge and endorse the fundamental tensions in our lives and don’t reduce them to platitudes.

Complexity is not a vice. The tradition authentically articulates that this very struggle of identities is part of who we are as individuals, as a nation.

Chapter 53 portrays the wandering from place A to place B to place Z. And finally a chance to rest. It’s here we’re supposed to settle.

Yet it’s clearly more complicated than that, as well.

Let us not reduce our ideologies to black or white. We must live the paradox. Again, complexity is not a vice.

During this week of celebrating the country where we live, let us continue the conversation of defining the meaning of Judaism in a melting pot, one where we wear multiple hats of identity, where we pledge allegiance to more than one flag.

Indeed this is both the American dream and the Jewish vision for life, one of complexity, of depth. Of constant struggle not because of insecurity or angst.

But because living a tension is the authentic expression of our people.

Thoughts on today's haftarah

An introduction that I gave to the haftarah reading today at Congregation Beth Judah  in Ventnor, NJ.

Today in this second of three haftarot of admonition, recited during the three weeks between the fast of the 17^th of Tammuz and the destruction of the 9^th of Av, we read the excoriations of the prophet Jeremiah. 

We read of a people that has no concept of Wonder. Who has so quickly forgotten of being led through the wilderness. Who has turned to other Gods and prophesied by the them. Who has turned to idolatry in every form possible.

Shimu dvar Adonai, Jeremiah implores the people. Hear the word of God.

The people have not only forsaken God, but also created new cisterns which cannot hold water.

As the Hebrew idiom goes, ein mayim eleh Torah. Water is known exclusively as Torah. The people have restructured their entire world of following the Torah with a new, seemingly improved worldview. But they have done so with leaky plumbing!

During these three weeks of rebuke, we approach a day where we commemorate the destruction of the first and second temples, but also calamities in each generation. We read in Massechet Yoma of the Babylonian that the Temples were destroyed because of a breakdown in civil society, there was unchecked Sinat Chinam, acts of Senseless Hatred. Moral guidance stood in anarchy.

We read in today’s haftarah about ancient idolatry. So to are we conscious of modern day idolatry. Not in the form of bowing to idols, to offering incense to an iron, bronze or stone statue.

But the idolatry of paying more attention to a bright screen in our pockets than the people across the table from us. The idolatry of  knowing the details of the contracts of three basketball players rather than honoring the vows in the marriage contract on our walls. The idolatry of when our hearts are stirred with more wonder by the pyrotechnics of Pentium chips than the crest of the sun making its way above the horizon line of the Atlantic Ocean each morning.

Where are those Gods you made for yourself? asks Jeremiah at the end of chapter 2.

Let them arise and save you, if they can, in your hour of calamity. For your Gods have become, Oh Judah, as many as your towns!

        

 But don’t despair, we skip to chapter four of Jeremiah to conclude our haftarah on an optimistic note. If the people Israel returns to God. If it does not waver, then nations will bless themselves by the nation and praise themselves.

As we approach Tisha B’Av, we listen today to the scolding of Jeremiah, rebuke toward his generation and a message for us, as well. It’s a warning bell. Undergo Teshuva. Be aware of your actions.

Israelites stop along the way for Ice Cream

Reading today's parasha, I noticed that one of the stops that the Israelites make on their journey is Yotvata. YOTVATA!


They stop there, then they camp there.



במדבר לג
לג. ויסעו מחר הגדגד; ויחנו ביטבתה
לד ויסעו מיטבתה, ויחנו בעברנה    



Numbers 33
33 And they journeyed from Hor-haggidgad, and camped in Yotvata
34 And they journeyed from Yotvata, and camped in Abronah.






Shoko b'sakit clearly makes their life complete, too.

(I'm aware that this isn't the actual Yotvata. Please laugh anyway. Thanks)

49 days, which equals 7 weeks of the Omer

And we've arrived. Crossing off the final day from Ari's "Omer chart." Well done, team.

Photo credit: The Dew of God

Happy Pentecost to one and all. 

R. Shai Held: Halacha and Innovation are not Mutually Exclusive

Please read the following article.

In what partly is a response to Rabbi Hershel Schachter's recent remarks and prohibition of the ordination of women rabbis in Orthodoxy, Rabbi Shai Held powerfully articulates a progressive approach to Jewish law as a more authentic world-view than legal conservatism.

An article filled with substance, that can indeed stand on its own (not as a response), anyone interested in Judaism in the modern world should read this piece.

Reading material and a video, to boot

Here's an amusing (perhaps hyperbolic, though maybe not) sociological analysis of Jewish life on the Upper West Side of New York.
(Footnote to Shoshie for finding this)


And the video for Hadag Nahash's best song on their new CD — עוד אח אחד (another brother).
The song is a cover of a song written by rapper "Fishy HaGadol" and speaks about the endless cycle of violence, the refrain stating:

עוד אח אחד ירד אל הקבר ומאמא בוכה היא בצעקות שבר, עוד אח אחד ירד אל הקבר את זעקות אבא שומעים מכל עבר
Another brother descends to the grave and mother cries out, with broken screams. Another brother descends to the grave; father's wails can be heard from all directions.

In addition to being a beautiful song musically, with poignant lyrics, this video socks the viewer in the gut toward the end.
(Footnote to the Peaceful lion on this one)