At the end of this post I’m going to ask you to do something -- but first let me tell you about one of the things I did last Shabbat.
On Saturday afternoon two of my daughters and I, along with 20 other TAS members, visited the homeless shelter run by LA Family Housing in North Hollywood. We went on a tour of the facility, and I was surprised to learn that it is one of only two shelters in Los Angeles that allow families to stay together. In most other facilities the men and women are separated. Boys as young as 12 years old are sent to the men’s section, away from their mothers, even if they have no father to go with them. It is heartbreaking to think of how those families, who are already suffering, are separated. The LA Family Housing facility, because it has private bathrooms in each room, is able to keep families together.
After the tour, our group stayed in the “Teen Room” to work on some crafts with the children living there. We made Christmas decorations and ornaments for the community Christmas tree in the hall. The children from TAS and the children from LAFH quickly made friends working on crafts together. When we finished the crafts we headed to the library to read stories. One of my daughters had made a friend during the glitter and glue portion of our visit, and the two of them squished into a chair to read together. While the library was well-stocked with children’s books, the little girl was thrilled to get to keep for her own some of the books that were donated by TAS families.
On Christmas day, the LAFH food service staff gets the day off to spend with their own families, so we have an opportunity to perform an important mitzvah. Temple Ahavat Shalom and other local synagogues are providing the food service on Christmas and volunteers are still needed. If you are interested, contact LAFH or the Social Action Committee at TAS.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Monday, November 2, 2009
Guest Blogger, Rabbi Brynjegard-Bialik:
Fringed Garment
This morning Isaac and I were surprised that we both voted for the same piece of art in a contest by The Jewish Museum in New York. The contest is to promote an exhibit called "Reinventing Ritual: Contemporary Art and Design for Jewish Life"; you can find it here.
The piece we both loved is called "Fringed Garment" by Rachel Kanter. I was drawn to it not just for the beautiful design, but for the statement it makes about women's roles in Judaism. Traditionally women are not required to wear tzitzit or to follow any positive time-bound commandments; over time this has come to be interpreted by some that women are not only not required to observe such commandments, but forbidden to do so. The apologetic argument has always been that women are more spiritual or naturally closer to God and therefore do not need to follow certain ritual mitzvot, and further, women's role in the home is just as important as the man's.
Rachel Kanter's apron with tzitzit attached challenges that notion. If those apologists really believe that women are just as important than of course it would make sense for women to have fringes on their aprons, the symbol of a housewife. I love the contrast -- elevating domestic chores to ritual status, elevating women's domestic roles to religious status.
What makes it even better is the connection to the Talmud. In the discussion about tzitzit and when they should be worn, Rabbi Judah does not consider the wearing of tzitzit to be time-bound, and attaches fringes to the aprons of the women in his house. It is within Judaism, within the Talmud, for women to participate in rituals that are considered traditionally forbidden.
Reform Judaism is not new in allowing women to wear fringes; we are continuing a 1800 year-old discussion about women and mitzvot. What do you do to reinvent tradition to keep it relevant?
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Guest Blogger, Rabbi Shawna Brynjegard-Bialik: More Than the Eye Can See
This fall my family took a trip to Sequoia National Park, where we hiked through Crystal Cave, one of the marble caves found in the park. The cave is about a million years old, and filled with beautiful stalactite and stalagmite formations. On our hike we learned about a new cave recently discovered in the park; it is called Ursa Minor, named for an ancient bear skeleton that was found inside. It?s likely that the new cave will never be open to the public -- too precious for the constant wear-and-tear of human visitors.
What struck me was that these caves have been forming for tens of thousands of years, silently growing underground undisturbed by human beings. These amazing works of natural beauty are just there, whether we discover them or not.
The Torah tells us God gives human beings dominion over the earth. Some have interpreted this to mean that the earth is ours to use as we see fit; others understand this to mean that we have a responsibility to care for the earth. The unexplored cave system in the Sequoias is a part of creation that most human beings will never see; the cave our guide told us about has only been viewed by about 20 people so far, and the park is committed to protecting it from the public, going so far as keeping the exact location a secret. And Ursa Minor is surely not the last such cave system in the world; no doubt more lie underneath the surface of our planet, never to be seen by people.
In a world that we have explored from the tops of mountains to the bottom of the ocean, it is amazing to me that there remain such undiscovered places. As stewards of creation, sometimes the best thing we can do is act like the world was not created solely for our enjoyment.
[Posted by Rabbi Shawna Brynjegard-Bialik]
What struck me was that these caves have been forming for tens of thousands of years, silently growing underground undisturbed by human beings. These amazing works of natural beauty are just there, whether we discover them or not.
The Torah tells us God gives human beings dominion over the earth. Some have interpreted this to mean that the earth is ours to use as we see fit; others understand this to mean that we have a responsibility to care for the earth. The unexplored cave system in the Sequoias is a part of creation that most human beings will never see; the cave our guide told us about has only been viewed by about 20 people so far, and the park is committed to protecting it from the public, going so far as keeping the exact location a secret. And Ursa Minor is surely not the last such cave system in the world; no doubt more lie underneath the surface of our planet, never to be seen by people.
In a world that we have explored from the tops of mountains to the bottom of the ocean, it is amazing to me that there remain such undiscovered places. As stewards of creation, sometimes the best thing we can do is act like the world was not created solely for our enjoyment.
[Posted by Rabbi Shawna Brynjegard-Bialik]
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Guest Blogger, Rabbi Brynjegard-Bialik:
Elul and Rock and Roll Etiquette
The first time I saw Ben Lee in concert he did something that I had never seen before. Ben Lee is one of my favorite singer/songwriters, and this concert was mostly him and his guitar on a stage decorated with flowers.
Throughout the show he offered the audience tips on “Rock and Roll Concert Etiquette” (you could almost hear him saying it with capital letters), and at the end of the show he told us that it was customary at the end of a Rock and Roll Show for the band to leave the stage and for the audience to clap and yell and demand an encore. However, he added, the audience knows that the band is coming back, and the band knows they are coming back -- but they miss all the accolades while they’re milling around backstage waiting to come back.
Ben Lee said he wanted to enjoy our cheering, so instead of going backstage he would stay on stage and just turn around to face away from the audience; that way we could enjoy the praise while waiting the appropriate interval before an encore.
He said all this very tongue-in-cheek, but that’s exactly what he did -- he turned around, and we clapped and cheered and yelled for one more song. I was in the front row, and I could see his smile when he turned back around, thanked the crowd, and started playing again.
This week the month of Elul begins. In “Jewish time” this is the last month of the year -- the time to get ready for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. We spend this month reflecting on the past year. Our liturgy focuses on slichot –- asking for forgiveness -- and on recognizing our mistakes and trying to do better in the year to come. We do a heshbon nefesh, an accounting of the soul. we take stock of who we are and how we are living up to our values. This process can be somewhat self-critical; the focus tends to be recognizing where we have missed the mark and asking for forgiveness -– from others, from God, and from ourselves. Elul is the time to start saying “I’m sorry”.
Can we also prepare our souls by saying “thank you”? How often do we let the people in our lives know that we appreciate them?
The Ben Lee concert reminded me that it is just as important to listen to praise and thanks, to accept it graciously, and to allow ourselves to enjoy our accomplishments. How often do we blow off a heartfelt “thank you” from a friend or colleague by responding, “it was nothing”? We do a disservice to ourselves when we diminish our actions and a disservice to others when we say that their acknowledgement is unimportant. What are we saying to the person offering us a compliment if we brush it off like their words do not matter to us?
We have a month to prepare for the Days of Awe, a month of self-reflection to prepare for the year ahead. Use this month not only to say “I’m sorry,” but also “thank you.” As you reflect on the things you want to change in the coming year, take some time to reflect on the things that worked in the past year -– the positive changes from previous years and the best parts of yourself that you want to nurture. Take the time to acknowledge thanks and compliments, as well as offering them freely.
[Posted by Rabbi Shawna Brynjegard-Bialik]
Throughout the show he offered the audience tips on “Rock and Roll Concert Etiquette” (you could almost hear him saying it with capital letters), and at the end of the show he told us that it was customary at the end of a Rock and Roll Show for the band to leave the stage and for the audience to clap and yell and demand an encore. However, he added, the audience knows that the band is coming back, and the band knows they are coming back -- but they miss all the accolades while they’re milling around backstage waiting to come back.
Ben Lee said he wanted to enjoy our cheering, so instead of going backstage he would stay on stage and just turn around to face away from the audience; that way we could enjoy the praise while waiting the appropriate interval before an encore.
He said all this very tongue-in-cheek, but that’s exactly what he did -- he turned around, and we clapped and cheered and yelled for one more song. I was in the front row, and I could see his smile when he turned back around, thanked the crowd, and started playing again.
This week the month of Elul begins. In “Jewish time” this is the last month of the year -- the time to get ready for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. We spend this month reflecting on the past year. Our liturgy focuses on slichot –- asking for forgiveness -- and on recognizing our mistakes and trying to do better in the year to come. We do a heshbon nefesh, an accounting of the soul. we take stock of who we are and how we are living up to our values. This process can be somewhat self-critical; the focus tends to be recognizing where we have missed the mark and asking for forgiveness -– from others, from God, and from ourselves. Elul is the time to start saying “I’m sorry”.
Can we also prepare our souls by saying “thank you”? How often do we let the people in our lives know that we appreciate them?
The Ben Lee concert reminded me that it is just as important to listen to praise and thanks, to accept it graciously, and to allow ourselves to enjoy our accomplishments. How often do we blow off a heartfelt “thank you” from a friend or colleague by responding, “it was nothing”? We do a disservice to ourselves when we diminish our actions and a disservice to others when we say that their acknowledgement is unimportant. What are we saying to the person offering us a compliment if we brush it off like their words do not matter to us?
We have a month to prepare for the Days of Awe, a month of self-reflection to prepare for the year ahead. Use this month not only to say “I’m sorry,” but also “thank you.” As you reflect on the things you want to change in the coming year, take some time to reflect on the things that worked in the past year -– the positive changes from previous years and the best parts of yourself that you want to nurture. Take the time to acknowledge thanks and compliments, as well as offering them freely.
[Posted by Rabbi Shawna Brynjegard-Bialik]
Monday, August 3, 2009
Guest Blogger, Rabbi Brynjegard-Bialik:
What do you remember?
Ten years ago I had just moved back to California. I was a new mom, and we three were living with my parents while we looked for a house. I was sitting in my parents’ bedroom, playing with my infant daughter and watching television when the news broke in to regular programming. There was a shooting at the JCC, I heard; someone was targeting Jews. I was stunned and horrified.
My first thoughts were, admittedly, self-centered; I was worried about myself and my family.
The JCC was supposed to be a safe place. I went to preschool there as a child, and I was a camp counselor there in college. If the JCC was not safe, I thought, what was?
I was still at that new-parent stage of checking my daughter every ten minutes while she slept to make sure she was still breathing; I could barely begin to imagine how terrified the parents of those children at the JCC were. I was years away from sending a child to preschool, but as I watched news footage of the line of children being led out of the JCC I wondered if I could ever feel safe sending my daughter to a Jewish school.
I was a rabbinic student at the time, and spent most of my time in buildings easily identifiable as Jewish -- the very thing that drew the gunman to the JCC; I wondered if I would ever feel safe at school again. I was scared to go to temple for fear of copycats, and I was not sure I would have the courage to walk into any Jewish building again.
This was not the world I was used to; violent anti-semitism was something I read about in history books not something that happened in Northridge. It was two years before the events of September 11, and it was the first time I felt really, personally, threatened.
Shabbat services on August 7 will commemorate the tenth anniversary of the shootings at the JCC in Granada Hills. Ten years ago, we all gathered as a community -- stunned by a tragedy that affected our temple members and friends. This Shabbat our service will be filled with hope for the future; please join us.
What do you remember about that day?
My first thoughts were, admittedly, self-centered; I was worried about myself and my family.
The JCC was supposed to be a safe place. I went to preschool there as a child, and I was a camp counselor there in college. If the JCC was not safe, I thought, what was?
I was still at that new-parent stage of checking my daughter every ten minutes while she slept to make sure she was still breathing; I could barely begin to imagine how terrified the parents of those children at the JCC were. I was years away from sending a child to preschool, but as I watched news footage of the line of children being led out of the JCC I wondered if I could ever feel safe sending my daughter to a Jewish school.
I was a rabbinic student at the time, and spent most of my time in buildings easily identifiable as Jewish -- the very thing that drew the gunman to the JCC; I wondered if I would ever feel safe at school again. I was scared to go to temple for fear of copycats, and I was not sure I would have the courage to walk into any Jewish building again.
This was not the world I was used to; violent anti-semitism was something I read about in history books not something that happened in Northridge. It was two years before the events of September 11, and it was the first time I felt really, personally, threatened.
Shabbat services on August 7 will commemorate the tenth anniversary of the shootings at the JCC in Granada Hills. Ten years ago, we all gathered as a community -- stunned by a tragedy that affected our temple members and friends. This Shabbat our service will be filled with hope for the future; please join us.
What do you remember about that day?
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Guest Blogger, Rabbi Brynjegard-Bialik:
God Does Not Exist
(as a Gender-Neutral Entity)
How would you describe God? Powerful and all-mighty? Or perhaps loving and supportive?
Newsweek’s science column this week was about how language shapes the way people think, based on the work of Dr. Lera Boroditsky, a researcher in cognitive linguistics. The main point was that grammatical gender in language has a big impact on the way we see the world. Recent studies demonstrate that in languages which assign gender to their nouns, the way people describe the world around them is affected by gender. The Spanish word for “bridge” is male, and native Spanish speakers defined “bridge” with stereotypically male terms, such as sturdy, strong, and towering. Native German speakers, whose word for bridge is female, used more feminine words such as beautiful, elegant, and slender. The testing was done in English, and yet these native speakers of gendered languages continued to use masculine or feminine descriptions based on the gender of the noun in their native language.
This led me to think about Hebrew, and our language for God. Hebrew is a gendered language, our the words of our Torah portray God as decidedly male. Yes, there are feminine names for aspects of God, like Shechina, but the overwhelming majority of Jewish language about God for worship and study is masculine. In most prayers and in the Torah, God takes masculine adjectives and verb forms -- so even when the name of God seems gender-neutral, the rest of the sentence about God is overtly masculine.
Consider the Shema. Even if we say that the words used for God -- Adonai and Eloheinu -- are gender-neutral, the word “one,” echad, is masculine. There is no gender-neutral word for “one” in Hebrew -- it is either masculine (echad) or feminine (achat). And as in most prayers, the gender is the masculine.
In recent years Reform Judaism has been careful to use gender-neutral God language. Where words like Adonai used to be translated as “Lord” or “King,” remain untranslated or a gender neutral term is used such as “Sovereign.”
But does that solve the problem (assuming there is one)? Is gender already built into our prayers because it is built into Hebrew? When we talk about God, even in English, “He” is considered neutral, whereas referring to God as “She” still has an element of surprise to it. And “It” is just too impersonal for a people that have such a personal relationship with God.
We can resort to metaphors. In the Reconstructionist prayer book, instead of using “Lord” or even “Adonai,” each prayer has a context-sensitive metaphor to refer to God. (For example, “Blessed are You, the Awakener, who removes slumber from my eyelids.”) But even the most creative English translations can not escape the masculine Hebrew.
We have over 3000 years of masculine God language that shapes our understanding of God and of Judaism. Can we change the way we think about God and prayer? Should we even try?
[Posted by Rabbi Shawna Brynjegard-Bialik]
Newsweek’s science column this week was about how language shapes the way people think, based on the work of Dr. Lera Boroditsky, a researcher in cognitive linguistics. The main point was that grammatical gender in language has a big impact on the way we see the world. Recent studies demonstrate that in languages which assign gender to their nouns, the way people describe the world around them is affected by gender. The Spanish word for “bridge” is male, and native Spanish speakers defined “bridge” with stereotypically male terms, such as sturdy, strong, and towering. Native German speakers, whose word for bridge is female, used more feminine words such as beautiful, elegant, and slender. The testing was done in English, and yet these native speakers of gendered languages continued to use masculine or feminine descriptions based on the gender of the noun in their native language.
This led me to think about Hebrew, and our language for God. Hebrew is a gendered language, our the words of our Torah portray God as decidedly male. Yes, there are feminine names for aspects of God, like Shechina, but the overwhelming majority of Jewish language about God for worship and study is masculine. In most prayers and in the Torah, God takes masculine adjectives and verb forms -- so even when the name of God seems gender-neutral, the rest of the sentence about God is overtly masculine.
Consider the Shema. Even if we say that the words used for God -- Adonai and Eloheinu -- are gender-neutral, the word “one,” echad, is masculine. There is no gender-neutral word for “one” in Hebrew -- it is either masculine (echad) or feminine (achat). And as in most prayers, the gender is the masculine.
In recent years Reform Judaism has been careful to use gender-neutral God language. Where words like Adonai used to be translated as “Lord” or “King,” remain untranslated or a gender neutral term is used such as “Sovereign.”
But does that solve the problem (assuming there is one)? Is gender already built into our prayers because it is built into Hebrew? When we talk about God, even in English, “He” is considered neutral, whereas referring to God as “She” still has an element of surprise to it. And “It” is just too impersonal for a people that have such a personal relationship with God.
We can resort to metaphors. In the Reconstructionist prayer book, instead of using “Lord” or even “Adonai,” each prayer has a context-sensitive metaphor to refer to God. (For example, “Blessed are You, the Awakener, who removes slumber from my eyelids.”) But even the most creative English translations can not escape the masculine Hebrew.
We have over 3000 years of masculine God language that shapes our understanding of God and of Judaism. Can we change the way we think about God and prayer? Should we even try?
[Posted by Rabbi Shawna Brynjegard-Bialik]
Thursday, May 28, 2009
The 11th Commandment
One of my favorite books asks children to list their 11th commandment! We all know the first 10 (or we think we do ...) but what just missed out in making the top ten? Add your reply and join in the conversation. Let's have some fun ...
Thursday, January 29, 2009
The Gaza Conflict '09
The current conflict has been described as “One big, gigantic, humungous conundrum.” Read my comments @ http://www.tasnorthridge.org/sermons/thegazaconflict09.pdf and then share your thoughts here.
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