Working in the Jewish world sometimes feels like riding a roller coaster- prospects, results and experiences hit highs and lows and everything in between. One gloomy minute you sense Judaism's impending demise and another you revel in the little things which give us hope.
These last two weekends, as my social life falls to non-existent status, I took a bumpy and jarring, but ultimately telling ride in the figurative amusement park of Jewish youth work. Here's how...
Part I
Asked how I felt after "songleading" a BBYO event last weekend, I replied, "alarmed", and proceeded to explain that BBYO showcases, as if proudly, all the ways in which the dominant secular culture of our time has doomed the Jewish people.
Every Jewish moment of the BBYO Long Island Winter Convention was a struggle, particularly services. The teen leadership stood before their peers, over 300 Long Islanders, pleading with them to stop talking, disrespecting and ignoring the services before them. Regressing to "apology" tactics, the leaders soon insisted that if the group could just remain quiet for even a few minutes, the Birkat Hamazon, the services, the Havdalah, the "Jewish" programs would soon end, allowing all to return to their flirting, gossiping world of mindless, non-contemplative ignorance.
A "Changing the World" program involved making paper chains to demonstrate how each of our actions effects countless others. In the "Ms. Nassau-Suffolk Region" competition, the girls dressed the boys in tight, revealing clothing and the boys "performed" provacative dances and "booty shakes" on stage to be crowned winner. At the dance, the teens proved they had memorized the newest pop hit by rapping along to "Fifty Cents" even though they could not, would not chant along to the Vahavta only hours earlier. And except when paraded onto the "stage" to lead these pathetic, after-thought services before this careless, "too cool for anything meaningful" congregations, this songleader sat in the back, trying to soak it all in, assessing the desolation and contemplating a seemingly dreary future.....
there must be another way.... (see Part II above)
Saturday, December 16, 2006
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
From Stuttgart 1
"With the passing of time the knowledge of God has become confused. The more subtle our wisdom, the more multifaceted has our stupidity become. Had God's grace not endured eternally, what would have become of us? Men have once again reached the point where they are lost without a compass in a sea of errors, finding themsleves in the middle of a Noahite deluge of ideas. Where is the ark, where is deliverance? In a time in which humility is paraded for show, because at heart it nourishes pride, it would sound ridiculous if somebody came forth and announced: here is the ark, here is the deliverance! And yet all those who have become conscious of our calling have said exactly that..."
You might assume that the above lamentations belong to a contemporary thinker. Instead, they are lifted from the anonymous 1837 publication, "The Holy History of Mankind," released in Stuttgart, Germany. Only years later was it revealed that revolutionary Jewish socialist thinker Moses Hess, a forerunner of the European Zionist movement, wrote "The Holy History" at age 25.
How much more true are his words today?
From where and whom will the voices of deliverance finally come?
And how can they get people to listen?
You might assume that the above lamentations belong to a contemporary thinker. Instead, they are lifted from the anonymous 1837 publication, "The Holy History of Mankind," released in Stuttgart, Germany. Only years later was it revealed that revolutionary Jewish socialist thinker Moses Hess, a forerunner of the European Zionist movement, wrote "The Holy History" at age 25.
How much more true are his words today?
From where and whom will the voices of deliverance finally come?
And how can they get people to listen?
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Where We Come From
In procrastinating and perusing the internet this evening, I came across a short lesson in Jewish history, one which hit particularly close to home- literally. Abba Hillel Silver, a Lithuanian immigrant to America, was ordained at the Hebrew Union College in Cincinatti, apparently without having even earned a bachelor's degree first at the ripe age of 22. Known for his oratorical skills and as a prolific writer, Silver championed American Zionism which, for his time went against the grain of the Reform movement especially, and against the American Jewish community at large.
He held high positions in a young zionist youth movement in New York and later, as a professional in the American Zionist Movement and the Zionist Organization of America. However, although his achievements impressed me enough to begin reading a book of his orations called, "Vision and Victory: A Collection of Addresses by Dr. Abba Hillel Silver 1942-1948", instead of writing my worthless comp paper on the flaws of homeopathic medicine, I was most struck by his life as a teen in New York and its relevance to the current condition of American Jewish life.
After moving first to the Lower East Side, the Silver family (Abba's dad was an ordained orthodox Rabbi) moved north, to new developments in Harlem for the cheapest rent in Manhattan. In 1900 already, 150 synagogues were operational in Northern Manhattan and the Silvers were no doubt regulars at one of them. (Today, the only Harlem synagogue I know of is the shul at 126 st. and Old Broadway which struggles, even with the addition of a gospel-singing black convert, to make minyan). Abba Hillel's childhood days in old New York were the days when Jews were blue-collar working people- not rich enough to afford the rents of the fashionable upper west side and struggling to get by.
I learned from a website on Abba Hillel's life (www.clevelandjewishhistory.net/silver/endnotes.html#harlem) that in his late teen years Abba Hillel lived at 232 W. 120th St. Struck by this, I strolled down the block tonight, over to the building to check it out. The building at 232, although its face is decorated elaborately, is definately modest. It may look like, or even be the same building that stood a century ago. It's a walk up and two pillars hold up the awning over a small stoop. I could picture Abba Hillel standing on the stoop arguing over a page of text and over Zionism, still such a new phenomenon in his years, with peers and friends. I could picture his family of seven living modestly and practicing their Judaism with intent to preserve their identity- although his father was Orthodox, and Abba was at this time already interested in the Reformers. What a dynamic! I thought how lifestyle and lack of privilege must have effected his Jewish identity and his developing Zionist identity. If most Jewish teens today had to persevere like Silver did, like the American Jews of some generations past, what would Jewish identity look like today- would we still enjoy a somewhat crass, comfortable, seldom challenged, upper class way of life? Would it be so easy to forget who we are?
Obviously, I'm not saying that Jews by-and-large should throw off their suits and ties and return to the factories and the textile industry. Thank God, Jews have achieved enormous success in America. But maybe it's important that we understand where we come from- that Jews didn't always live in mansions in the suburbs or brownstones along West End Ave. Maybe we could use a taste of the sweat and toil of Silver's generation. At least, their labor, which paved the way for us, deserves greater recognition. Perhaps even more so, we could benifit from the deeply ingrained Jewish identity which the American Jews of old just couldn't break, no matter how desperately some wanted to and tried. With kippa or without, being Jewish for Abba Hillel Silver was a fact of life- everyday. It should be a fact of more of our lives too.
And, NEWSFLASH: There are still Jews in Harlem!
He held high positions in a young zionist youth movement in New York and later, as a professional in the American Zionist Movement and the Zionist Organization of America. However, although his achievements impressed me enough to begin reading a book of his orations called, "Vision and Victory: A Collection of Addresses by Dr. Abba Hillel Silver 1942-1948", instead of writing my worthless comp paper on the flaws of homeopathic medicine, I was most struck by his life as a teen in New York and its relevance to the current condition of American Jewish life.
After moving first to the Lower East Side, the Silver family (Abba's dad was an ordained orthodox Rabbi) moved north, to new developments in Harlem for the cheapest rent in Manhattan. In 1900 already, 150 synagogues were operational in Northern Manhattan and the Silvers were no doubt regulars at one of them. (Today, the only Harlem synagogue I know of is the shul at 126 st. and Old Broadway which struggles, even with the addition of a gospel-singing black convert, to make minyan). Abba Hillel's childhood days in old New York were the days when Jews were blue-collar working people- not rich enough to afford the rents of the fashionable upper west side and struggling to get by.
I learned from a website on Abba Hillel's life (www.clevelandjewishhistory.net
Obviously, I'm not saying that Jews by-and-large should throw off their suits and ties and return to the factories and the textile industry. Thank God, Jews have achieved enormous success in America. But maybe it's important that we understand where we come from- that Jews didn't always live in mansions in the suburbs or brownstones along West End Ave. Maybe we could use a taste of the sweat and toil of Silver's generation. At least, their labor, which paved the way for us, deserves greater recognition. Perhaps even more so, we could benifit from the deeply ingrained Jewish identity which the American Jews of old just couldn't break, no matter how desperately some wanted to and tried. With kippa or without, being Jewish for Abba Hillel Silver was a fact of life- everyday. It should be a fact of more of our lives too.
And, NEWSFLASH: There are still Jews in Harlem!
Monday, November 13, 2006
Weekend
I'm completely amazed by how the world has shrunk and yet remains so vast. It's totally overwhelming.
Last Wednesday afternoon I took two trains and traveled for about one hour to get from my apartment in Harlem to the airport in Newark, NJ. The airport security line took almost an hour to pass and strethed a couple hundred feet through the terminal. Everyone was talking on the phone. These little gadgets, sometimes simplified even further by a small earpiece connected people across miles, oceans and seas. Few thought twice about the dozens of languages and nationalities represented in this mass of humanity all rushing to catch a flight.
When walking through an international destiations terminal like at Newark, JFK or Chicago O'hare, have you ever looked at the line of people boarding the flight to Shanghai or Stockholm or Buenos Aires or anywhere and considered how remarkably different their surroundings will become in only a matter of hours? In Newark its particularly interesting because in the same terminal there are those passengers leaving for another continent and those leaving for only another northeast state. I've always wondered about the people going to the most obscure places, something like Mongolia.
On Wednesday I was one of those travelling on Continental to another continent, leaving for Israel. I boarded the plane, got situated, messed around with the entertainment consol and eventually fell asleep. Some hours later I awoke to a breakfast omelet and passed the time by making conversation with my travel neighbor- a somewhat likeminded Israel traveler. Yael Ridberg, the Rabbi at the Reconstructionist Upper West Side Synagogue in Manhattan, and I discussed Israeli politics, compared and contrasted Jewish movements and then played a fruitful round of Jewish geography- finding many common aquaintances and friends. Finally, just a short time later, we landed. I wished the Rabbi well, deplaned, changed currency, and stepped outside to signs in new characters, and policemen wielding uzis. Some things felt so similar to the industrial wasteland from which I departed and so many things so different. And some of these differences, totally intangible. For five days I travelled around Israel- from the airport to Beer Sheva in the south, to an army base close by, back to Beer Sheva with a bunch of soldiers, then on a bus to Jerusalem, on another bus to the Hebrew University, then sleep. Two days, including Shabbat in Jerusalem. A few hours strolling in an old city hundreds of years old, a few minutes with my hands pressed against a 2000 year old wall, a few more minutes trying to connect with the holiness it's assigned. Later, more walking here and there in Jerusalem, then sleep. The next morning, a bus to the city center, lunch, another bus to the bus station, another bus to Haifa, another bus to a friend's apartment in Haifa, a taxi to a bar at the beach, a few drinks, a taxi back, then sleep. A bus back to Jerusalem in the morning, a bus from the bus station to Hebrew Union College, a walk to collect my things and a stop to check my email and quickly record some scattered thoughts. In just a few minutes, I'll get up, take another bus to the bus station, followed by a bus to Tel Aviv, I'll eat dinner with a friend then take one more bus the aiport, go through security along with dozens of others leaving for dozens of destinations across the globe, board the plane, get situated, play with the entertainment consol, sleep, eat an omelet, most likely make conversation with the person next to me, land, take two trains to get back to my apartment, undress and shower, walk to the subway at 125 st, Harlem, ride a train to 184 st, walk to class and sit down to learn. oy.
Even half a century ago, such commotion wasn't really possible. We take it for granted.
My ability to go to Israel and back a in so little time, covering so much space in terms of mileage, language, culture and reality leaves me not knowing where to begin processing or when I'll have a moment to do so. Hopefully, I'll gain some insight and a grip on things after not too long.... one thing is certain- Israel is as lovely as ever.
I'm off to Tel Aviv.
Last Wednesday afternoon I took two trains and traveled for about one hour to get from my apartment in Harlem to the airport in Newark, NJ. The airport security line took almost an hour to pass and strethed a couple hundred feet through the terminal. Everyone was talking on the phone. These little gadgets, sometimes simplified even further by a small earpiece connected people across miles, oceans and seas. Few thought twice about the dozens of languages and nationalities represented in this mass of humanity all rushing to catch a flight.
When walking through an international destiations terminal like at Newark, JFK or Chicago O'hare, have you ever looked at the line of people boarding the flight to Shanghai or Stockholm or Buenos Aires or anywhere and considered how remarkably different their surroundings will become in only a matter of hours? In Newark its particularly interesting because in the same terminal there are those passengers leaving for another continent and those leaving for only another northeast state. I've always wondered about the people going to the most obscure places, something like Mongolia.
On Wednesday I was one of those travelling on Continental to another continent, leaving for Israel. I boarded the plane, got situated, messed around with the entertainment consol and eventually fell asleep. Some hours later I awoke to a breakfast omelet and passed the time by making conversation with my travel neighbor- a somewhat likeminded Israel traveler. Yael Ridberg, the Rabbi at the Reconstructionist Upper West Side Synagogue in Manhattan, and I discussed Israeli politics, compared and contrasted Jewish movements and then played a fruitful round of Jewish geography- finding many common aquaintances and friends. Finally, just a short time later, we landed. I wished the Rabbi well, deplaned, changed currency, and stepped outside to signs in new characters, and policemen wielding uzis. Some things felt so similar to the industrial wasteland from which I departed and so many things so different. And some of these differences, totally intangible. For five days I travelled around Israel- from the airport to Beer Sheva in the south, to an army base close by, back to Beer Sheva with a bunch of soldiers, then on a bus to Jerusalem, on another bus to the Hebrew University, then sleep. Two days, including Shabbat in Jerusalem. A few hours strolling in an old city hundreds of years old, a few minutes with my hands pressed against a 2000 year old wall, a few more minutes trying to connect with the holiness it's assigned. Later, more walking here and there in Jerusalem, then sleep. The next morning, a bus to the city center, lunch, another bus to the bus station, another bus to Haifa, another bus to a friend's apartment in Haifa, a taxi to a bar at the beach, a few drinks, a taxi back, then sleep. A bus back to Jerusalem in the morning, a bus from the bus station to Hebrew Union College, a walk to collect my things and a stop to check my email and quickly record some scattered thoughts. In just a few minutes, I'll get up, take another bus to the bus station, followed by a bus to Tel Aviv, I'll eat dinner with a friend then take one more bus the aiport, go through security along with dozens of others leaving for dozens of destinations across the globe, board the plane, get situated, play with the entertainment consol, sleep, eat an omelet, most likely make conversation with the person next to me, land, take two trains to get back to my apartment, undress and shower, walk to the subway at 125 st, Harlem, ride a train to 184 st, walk to class and sit down to learn. oy.
Even half a century ago, such commotion wasn't really possible. We take it for granted.
My ability to go to Israel and back a in so little time, covering so much space in terms of mileage, language, culture and reality leaves me not knowing where to begin processing or when I'll have a moment to do so. Hopefully, I'll gain some insight and a grip on things after not too long.... one thing is certain- Israel is as lovely as ever.
I'm off to Tel Aviv.
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
New Yorkers Love Thy Neighbor #2 (Literally this time)
So I live on 119st between Frederick Douglass Ave and St. Nicholas Ave. If you couldn't make it out by the street names or numbers, that is- Central Harlem, USA. It's an interesting neighborhood and despite being harassed periodically for the white color of my skin with comments like, "Damn crackers comin' up in here," and having a soda can thrown at me once, I can't really complain much. One problem that was nagging me however, and it had nothing to do with the neighborhood, was the close proximity of my building to the other one immediately out my living room window. As in, from my living room window I can see directly into someone's bedroom about 40-ish feet away and from the window above our kitchen sink I can jump onto the neighbor's balcony. This layout became increasingly interesting only recently.
You see, my "work area" (as if I do much of my schoolwork) is positioned with my computer at a table looking straight out and therefore straight into my neighbor's bedroom. I had never seen anyone in there before until about two weeks ago when a nice looking young woman probably in her early-mid twenties came strolling in there, as if straight out of the shower almost totally indisposed. I am not a freak and am disinterested in voyeurism, so I glanced away (really, I did). In the few seconds with my eyes adrift she must have walked over, still unclothed to her shades to pull them down because when I looked up again, there she was! We made eye contact. It was extremely awkward. A few days later I caught her in a towel and then for days after that in varying degrees of exposure. Finally yesterday I made eye contact again with the woman, wearing clothes this time, and we both glanced away immediately. She bolted from the room and returned with another woman pointing at my window. I hid under the table trying to peer out at the situation unfolding and decided that this nameless, awkward exchange needed to stop. So I tore apart a box, popped open a marker and posted a sign on my window reading, "Hi, my name is Aaron. I apologize that our buildings are awkwardly close." This evening, I saw no movement in the room and figured that she either hadn't seen my gesture or had seen it and thought, "This Aaron guy is a creep." Alas, I went out for a few minutes to pick up clothes at the laundromat and returned to a response. "Hi, I'm Linnea." More, there was a huge colored-in smiley face on the post.
I'm intrigued. I thought things like this only happen in annoying romantic comedies starring Meg Ryan, but perhaps I was mistaken. I know, I know, "Linnea" sounds a little to goyishe for me... but honestly, I'm not looking for romance from the girl next door. I only find it fascinating that we, I or she, might invest in a short-lived, short-spoken (or written) conversation across such a seemingly small space.
Everyone loves or hates New York because there is so much happening and so many people. I love/hate New York because while people cram into small spaces, push, bump and accidentally spy on eachother, they sometimes only "connect" by way of unlikelihoods like my Sharpie's print on the side of a cardboard box.
Where will my conversation with my new friend, Linnea lead? Will we ever meet? She lives right around the block! We've probably crossed paths already and not even known it.
You see, my "work area" (as if I do much of my schoolwork) is positioned with my computer at a table looking straight out and therefore straight into my neighbor's bedroom. I had never seen anyone in there before until about two weeks ago when a nice looking young woman probably in her early-mid twenties came strolling in there, as if straight out of the shower almost totally indisposed. I am not a freak and am disinterested in voyeurism, so I glanced away (really, I did). In the few seconds with my eyes adrift she must have walked over, still unclothed to her shades to pull them down because when I looked up again, there she was! We made eye contact. It was extremely awkward. A few days later I caught her in a towel and then for days after that in varying degrees of exposure. Finally yesterday I made eye contact again with the woman, wearing clothes this time, and we both glanced away immediately. She bolted from the room and returned with another woman pointing at my window. I hid under the table trying to peer out at the situation unfolding and decided that this nameless, awkward exchange needed to stop. So I tore apart a box, popped open a marker and posted a sign on my window reading, "Hi, my name is Aaron. I apologize that our buildings are awkwardly close." This evening, I saw no movement in the room and figured that she either hadn't seen my gesture or had seen it and thought, "This Aaron guy is a creep." Alas, I went out for a few minutes to pick up clothes at the laundromat and returned to a response. "Hi, I'm Linnea." More, there was a huge colored-in smiley face on the post.
I'm intrigued. I thought things like this only happen in annoying romantic comedies starring Meg Ryan, but perhaps I was mistaken. I know, I know, "Linnea" sounds a little to goyishe for me... but honestly, I'm not looking for romance from the girl next door. I only find it fascinating that we, I or she, might invest in a short-lived, short-spoken (or written) conversation across such a seemingly small space.
Everyone loves or hates New York because there is so much happening and so many people. I love/hate New York because while people cram into small spaces, push, bump and accidentally spy on eachother, they sometimes only "connect" by way of unlikelihoods like my Sharpie's print on the side of a cardboard box.
Where will my conversation with my new friend, Linnea lead? Will we ever meet? She lives right around the block! We've probably crossed paths already and not even known it.
Monday, November 06, 2006
You Have to Watch This
You must watch this. For roughly 2 minutes 46 seconds I was happy to be a YU student. This is worth the watch... Yeah, I see these guys around campus.
http://campusj.com/2006/10/12/so-yeshiva-u-guys-think-they-can-dance/
http://campusj.com/2006/10/12/so-yeshiva-u-guys-think-they-can-dance/
Sunday, November 05, 2006
Sanz Klausenburg Rebbe Throwing Apples
Two different religions called "Judaism"- Hareidi-Hasidism and everybody else.
http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-3327888442057520412&q=apples+sanz
http://video.google.com/videoplay?docid=-3327888442057520412&q=apples+sanz
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