If God is Not a Vending Machine, Why Pray?

May 21, 2013

English: This vending machine was made by Nati...

“Keep us in your prayers.”

Oklahoma Lieutenant Governor Todd Lamb said these words last night to TV anchor Rachel Maddow, when she asked what concerned viewers could do for the victims of the tornadoes that ripped through Moore, OK yesterday. According to his official biography, Mr. Lamb attends a Baptist church. I don’t know anything about Ms. Maddow’s religious affiliations. And yet I know in my gut what Mr. Lamb was saying to Ms. Maddow, and her serious nod in reply made sense, because we’re all Americans and we say these things when things are so bad that there isn’t a whole lot anyone can do.

What is it we are asking for, when we ask for prayers? My guess, from Mr. Lamb’s affiliation, is that he hopes that viewers will direct words or thoughts to God that will influence or inform God’s choices over the next hours and days. I do not want to make light of Mr. Lamb’s faith, any more than I’d want him to make light of mine. My faith works differently, however. (I feel odd calling it “faith,” but again, we’re Americans and that’s the lingo.)

When I tell people that I will keep them in my prayers, I am absolutely serious about that statement. I call their names to mind or may even mention their names aloud when I say my daily prayers. However, I do not expect the prayers to influence God. For starters, the one thing I know for sure about God is that I know bubkes [nothing] about God. God is beyond my little brain. I take my directions for my behavior from Torah, which suggests that even if my brain is too limited for God, it is good to pray daily, and it is good to use that time to pray for things that concern me.

So why pray, if I think that God is beyond my imagination? I pray because I am a limited being. I pray words that have been said for generations, that have shaped the thoughts and attitudes of Jews through the centuries. When I pray for people, I grow my compassion for them. I meditate on their sorrows, and my heart grows bigger. Will my prayers affect the fate of people in Oklahoma? I don’t know for sure. What I am sure of is that it is good for me to have compassion for them, it is good for me to think of them as part of my circle of concern. It will be good for me, should I ever be so unfortunate as to be in a disaster, to know that other people far away care about me. But it will also be good for me to have learned, from prayer, that I am not the only person in the world with troubles.

God is not a vending machine. I cannot put a prayer in and get what I want. God is not even a bad vending machine, that takes my prayer and gives me what it wants. God is beyond me. But in praying for those in trouble, I strengthen the bonds of humanity. When I pray, I remind myself that I am not God.

When I pray, I remind myself that I am my brother’s keeper, no matter how different our politics, no matter how different our ideas about things like “God.”

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Passing the Torah

May 13, 2013
Rabbi Steve Chester passes the Torah to me (again) at ordination (5/18/08)

Rabbi Steve Chester passes the Torah to me (again) at ordination (5/18/08)

When I watch the passing of the Torah at a bar or bat mitzvah,

I wonder: Who passes the Torah to me?

My father was Irish Catholic,
and my mother a Catholic who was once a Presbyterian.
My name is Ruth bat Avraham v’Sarah
But Abraham and Sarah died a long time ago.
I have no family stories about Passover.
Like Ruth, I’m here only because I wanted to be.
Who passes the Torah to me?

When I approached a rabbi about conversion
He gently suggested we study together
And passed the Torah to me.

When my first Hebrew teacher patiently
guided me right to left through the aleph-bet
She passed the Torah to me.

When I shivered in the water of the mikveh
and the cantor led me through the blessings
She passed the Torah to me.

When I talked for an hour with the Beit Din
When the Torah study class showed me how Jews study Bible
When the Talmud group welcomed me for discussions and stories
When an Israeli acquaintance corrected my Hebrew
When my study partner clapped a kippah on my head
They passed the Torah to me.

When a little girl showed me how to tear the challah
When a woman offered me my first taste of a Hillel sandwich
When the guy at the bakery said, “Shabbat Shalom!”
When a committee chair said to me, “Here, you can do this.”
When friends shared recipes and stories and customs
They passed the Torah to me.

If it takes a village to raise a child
It takes a congregation to raise a convert:

We pass the Torah from hand to hand
and make sure all the Jews who want can hold it:
can write it on their hearts,
speak of it in their homes,
teach it to their children,
bind it on their hands,
hold it before their eyes,
and write it – in golden letters! –
on the doorposts of their gates.

– Rabbi Ruth Adar

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Time for Shabbat, already!

April 19, 2013
shocked

(Photo credit: apdk)

I do not remember the last time I was this desperate for Shabbat.

This has been a dreadful week, beginning with the bombing of the finish line at the Boston Marathon. Even though I did not know anyone present, the images that came streaming at me from the television, the computer, and even my smartphone were pixillated nightmares. Even though I was nowhere near Boston, have only been to Boston a few times in my life, it felt personal.  I got angry, and made an appointment for a blood donation. I needed to act, rather than simply stew in stress hormones.

Random bits of horror in the news kept poking at me: ricin, the Senate’s choice about the gun loophole, news about local violence. It seemed to never stop.

Then, Wednesday night, when I got in my car at 9:30 pm after a class, I turned on the radio and  learned about the factory explosion in West, Texas. A dear friend is the rabbi in Waco, just 20 miles distant, and I had no idea where she actually lives. I worried about her until she posted on facebook that she was OK.

That relief lasted only a few minutes, when the other details about the disaster began to sink in: 5 city blocks destroyed in a tiny Texas town. Volunteer firefighters were probably trapped in the exploding factory. Why was there a nursing home across the street? Why schools nearby?

I donated blood. This, I can do.

Then late last night, after another class, more violence, more weirdness, in Boston. I turned off the electronics and cleaned house.  I thought about my sermon for this evening. I kept forgetting and turning something back on – and would turn it off again, because honestly, I’d had enough.

Douglas Rushkoff‘s new book, Present Shock, describes what has been going on with  me this week. Events come pouring in faster than we can process them. Narratives fracture before they are even formed. Conspiracy theories multiply and divide.  Email, facebook, twitter, the radio, the news, the news, the news demand my attention and in a bad news week it WILL make me crazy.

I’ve been reading Rushkoff’s book this week, too, and that’s why I finally turned everything off and began scrubbing the bathroom.  My baby-boomer brain as well as my baby-boomer heart and soul were overwhelmed. I recognized myself in his pages and declared, “TIME OUT!”

Of course, I had to start all over again this morning, wake up to more strange “breaking news” un-narrative from Boston, along with assorted bits nearer to home. The people in Texas seem to have dropped off the news cycle, which sort of worries me – will anyone remember to check on them?

But today, at sundown, Shabbat will come. I don’t know if she’ll be wearing bridal white or a nice nurse’s outfit this week, but she will come and gather us in her arms. The electronics will be off. The buzz will be busted for a while. We will catch our breath. We will gather our strength.

Blessed are you, O Holy One, Ruler of Time & Space, Master of the Now, Maker of  Shabbat.

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Responding to Terror

April 15, 2013
Tikkun Olam

(Photo credit: AjDele Photography)

“He [Hillel] used to say, a boor cannot fear sin, nor can an unlearned person be pious. A bashful person cannot learn, nor can an impatient one teach. Those who are occupied excessively with business will not become wise [in Torah]. In a place where there are no human beings, endeavor to be a human being.” (Avot 2:6)

I am horrified at the bombing that took place in Boston today. Instead of assigning blame, spreading rumors, or ranting, I’m going to take positive action in the world: I’ve made an appointment to donate blood.

I challenge you: if you are feeling strong emotion, DO SOMETHING: give blood, give to the food bank, take some other action to relieve suffering. All the nattering on social media and all the pontificating on the TV will accomplish nothing, but the actions of a few good people could make the world a better place.

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What I Believe about the Exodus

March 12, 2013

English: Israel's Escape from Egypt, illustrat...

Last week someone said to me, “Rabbi, did you know there are people who say the Exodus never happened?” It’s a question I often get about this time of year.

The question comes up because the Exodus is the narrative that forms the bedrock of the Jewish story. We have a holiday, Passover, just to transmit that story. And yet it is a story for which there is no outside evidence at all. No archaeologist has been able to find an inscription or the remains of a camp, or anything.

So we cannot prove that the Exodus happened exactly as the Bible described it.

This does not trouble me in the least. For one thing, why would anyone but us have recorded it? It was an embarrassment to the Egyptians. It was not an important event to anyone but Hebrews and Egyptians. It was the story of the Jews, as experienced by the Jews.

Every family has those stories. My grandmother told stories about my family coming from Ireland. After  she died I tried to document her account. What I learned was that the events described in her stories were the events as experienced by Bridget and Peter Carroll, my ancestors. They were the ones who left a starving land in one of the infamous “coffin ships” to come to America.  I cannot prove their stories, because they did not keep the name of the ship. The only traceable thing they kept was the name of the cruel landlord, Mahon, and they kept that as “the dirtiest word in the Gaelic language.”

Their stories told who they were. The stories told about brave people who left a starving land, who took a big risk to come to a place where they could live with dignity.  The stories told about a group of families who loved one another so much that they traveled in a group and settled together on rocky land near Dickson, Tennessee.

Just so, the Jewish story of Exodus is a story of a people who lived in slavery, but who felt that they were destined for freedom. They were destined to leave behind the mightiest king on earth, and to never forget that they were once miserable slaves.  Their experiences on that journey could not be described in natural terms: they could only be described in the language of miracle. And today, still, their descendants – we! –  are called, by their God and by our tradition, to remain awake to the miracles all around us, and to value freedom and human dignity above security or comfort.

That’s the story I believe.

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Clean and Unclean: A Primer

March 7, 2013
Grafitti

Not Jewish Grafitti (Photo credit: tricky (rick harrison))

Apparently there’s a trend somewhere in Internet-land to label foods “clean” and “unclean” by how much processing they have undergone. I just read about it in a great post over on Tumblr. This inspired me to go dig around at the root of this nuttiness, which appeared as a way of understanding and managing holiness in the Hebrew Bible and then made its way into the popular culture of many different eras in wildly mutated forms.

The Hebrew word often translated into English as “clean” or “pure” is tahor (טָהוֹר) pronounced “tah-HOR.” It first appears in Genesis 7, where some animals are said to be tahor. In that context, it seems to mean, “when the Sinai covenant comes into effect, this animal will be OK to eat under certain conditions.” The Torah is not clear how Noah is able to understand what God is talking about, but there are many things in Torah to ponder.

Other animals are designated tamei (טָמֵא) pronounced “tah-MAY.” These will later NOT be OK for those under the covenant to eat.  (For more about Jewish dietary law, check out this article in MyJewishLearning.com.) This word is usually translated into English as “unclean” or “impure.”

Later in the Bible, when we get the rules for the Temple sacrifices, it gets much more complicated: tahor and tamei will have to do with states of being that cannot ever come into contact without consequences.  Think “matter and antimatter,” to get a feel for the (theoretical) mess it can make. One either overwhelms the other, or they explode.

Both concepts have to do, at their heart, with the energy of life, or life force. Tahor is the “charge” of the Holy One, the source of Life itself – so anything that comes into contact with God, or the place in the ancient Temple where God was understood to dwell (the Tabernacle) is tamei. (Stop and take that in before you read on.  God / The Holy One / God’s dwelling / Tahor.

But in the eyes of our ancestors, there were also things with a different “charge,” a different connection to the life force that had to do with the created world:  blood, dead bodies (human or animal), and secretions from bodies (menstrual blood, semen, afterbirth, etc.) These have the tamei “charge” and must be properly neutralized before coming into contact with things that are tahor. Hence the rules about menstruation, noctural emissions, sex, eating rare meat, etc. Those rules made it possible for women to be protected at vulnerable times, like menses and after childbirth, and time to bond with infants, especially female infants (who were doubly vulnerable, since they were less valued by the society as a whole.)

The process of neutralization is usually translated as “purification” which further muddies the water for English speakers.  In fact, there is no way in the present time to neutralize the tahor charge; the tools for doing it were lost when the Temple was destroyed in year 70 of the Common Era (aka 70 A.D.) The Temple sacrifices were the “technology” for making things pure, that is, for neutralizing the charge of tamei.

From my Reform Jewish point of view, then, it is all moot. We are past the era of tamei/tahor. In other words, don’t worry about it. It can be a very useful metaphor for looking at other issues (I’ll write about those another time) but in the 21st century, there’s no need to worry about ritual impurity.

However, all this ritual tech talk has crept into our thinking and popular culture in ways that can be horrifically destructive. Just as tamei doesn’t mean “impure,” it also doesn’t mean “dirty” or “bad.” Menstruating women are not bad. Women who have given birth are not bad. Men who have had a noctural emission are not bad. Rare steak is not kosher, but it, too, is in no way morally bad or dirty.  We can have ethical discussions about foods, certainly, but talking about “clean” or “dirty” food just muddies the water. (Pun intended!)

Bottom line, the take-away concept:  When you read “pure” and “impure” or “clean” and “unclean” in the Bible, remember that these are iffy English translations of techie jargon from more than 2500 years ago.  They do not mean “good” and “bad.”

Extra credit concept: When someone starts throwing around “clean” and “dirty” in reference to anything more complicated than a kitchen floor, be suspicious. They’re using iffy translations of 2500 year old tech jargon to sell you some judgments you may or may not want to buy.

Caveat emptor! (Buyer beware!)

—

[For the explanation of the concepts around ritual purity in Torah in language having to do with the life force, I am indebted to Rabbi Judah Dardik. However he is in no way responsible for where I have gone with that concept; my words are my own, so blame me for them, not him.]

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How do Jews Celebrate Valentine’s Day?

February 14, 2013

valentine

Hey, it’s not our holiday.  It’s SAINT Valentine’s Day, and the way it became the Hallmark-and-florist fest it is today is a long and involved story.

That said, I am all in favor of a day that reminds us to tell our loved ones “I love you.”  Truth is, we should be doing that every day.

But  I see the pain Feb 14 gives some of my single friends, and the widows, and those whose marriages are suffering.  I wonder about the kindness of a day devoted to expressions of romantic love, a day that winds up excluding all but the already happy.

I celebrated the day by telling my honey I love her (like I do every day) and sending a donation to Shalom Bayit, an organization working against domestic violence in my home town. I’m going to send one to the National Center for Lesbian Rights, one of the great organizations that are part of the fight for marriage equality.

Down with pain, up with love! I think that’s an idea we can all support.

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It’s Adar! Be Happy!

February 10, 2013
English: Har Adar, tulip patch

Har Adar, near Jerusalem, tulip patch (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

“Mishenichnas Adar marbin b’simchah” B.Ta’anit 29a

“When Adar enters, joy increases.”

Today is Rosh Chodesh Adar, the beginning of the month of Adar. Adar is the month of Purim, of good luck, of silly games and pranks. We are commanded to “increase joy” although we are not given any direction about how to go about it.

I have quoted the line above from Ta’anit many times, but I realized I’d never studied it and had no idea about the context. Today I went to take a look:

“Ta’anit” means “fasts.”  This masechet [book] of the Babylonian Talmud is a compilation of discussions about fast days (with, of course, digressions on those discussions.) Fast days are somber occasions: Yom Kippur [The Day of Atonement] and the Ninth of Av [the memorial of the destruction of the Temple] are the best-known fast days. They are not happy occasions. How did this line about Adar wind up in there?

Sure enough, when I looked it up, the rabbis are in the midst of a sobering discussion about the “curtailment of rejoicings” in the month of Av. There’s a heartbreaking story about the young priests going to the roof of the Temple as it was burning, reaching their arms up to throw the Temple keys into the hands of the angels.  Then the young priests, their duty done, fall into the fire. There is a sad quotation from Isaiah about people dying, and God weeping.

Then a new bit of Mishnah is quoted: “WITH THE BEGINNING OF AV REJOICINGS ARE CURTAILED.”

And the Gamara expounds upon it:

Rab Judah the son of R.Samuel b. Shilath said in the name of Rab:

Just as with the beginning of Ab rejoicings are curtailed, so with the beginning of Adar rejoicings are increased. 

R. Papa said: Therefore a Jew who has any litigation with Gentiles should avoid him in Ab because his luck is bad and should make himself available in Adar when his luck is good. 

To give you a future and a hope: 

Rab Judah the son of R. Samuel b. Shilath said in the name of Rab: By this is meant [an abundance of] palm trees and flaxen garments. 

And he said: See, the smell of my son is as the smell of a field which the Lord hath blessed: 

Rab Judah the son of R. Samuel b. Shilath said in the name of Rab: As the smell of an apple orchard.

… and then the text returns to the grave discussion of the “curtailment of rejoicings” of the month of Av.

There are many possible ways to read this, but what I take from it is that the sadnesses of life are simply facts. There is tzuris [trouble] in every life. But just as this discussion of Adar bursts in upon the discussion of tzuris for a moment, so does the month of Adar burst in upon us in the wettest, most bedraggled bit of winter.  Good surprises burst in upon tired routine: sometimes instead of bad luck, we have good luck. Sometimes a new baby is born, and he smells wonderful. The message: if we are truly devout, we will remain open to the possibilities of those moments.

Adar comes with a command to “increase joy.” To do that, we must stay attuned to the possibility of the sacred moment when laughter breaks through tears, sun through clouds, beauty through the gray winter. If we are paying attention, we will be awake for joy. Adar is the month to cultivate that sacred skill in ourselves. For indeed:

Days pass and the years vanish, and we walk sightless among miracles.  Lord, fill our eyes with seeing and our minds with knowing; let there be moments when Your Presence, like lightning, illumines the darkness in which we walk.

Help us to see, wherever we gaze, that the bush burns unconsumed. 

And we, clay touched by God, will reach out for holiness, and exclaim in wonder:

How filled with awe is this place, and we did not know it!  Blessed is the Eternal One, the holy God!  [Gates of Prayer]

Happy Adar!  May your joy increase, and may you be awake to it!

May it give you “a future and a hope.”  Amen.

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My Child Wants a Bar or Bat Mitzvah – Now What?

January 26, 2013
Bar Mitzvah

Bar Mitzvah (Photo credit: faxpilot)

I’m writing this for the unaffiliated or secular Jewish parent whose child has just announced that he or she wants a bar or bat mitzvah. You were not dreaming of this, or planning for it. Perhaps your own bar mitzvah was a bad memory, or never happened at all.  Perhaps no girl in your family has ever had a bat mitzvah. I’m writing this to suggest some things to think about as you ponder your response.

1. BASIC INFO: For a basic article about modern b’nei mitzvah (that’s the plural) check out Bar and Bat Mitzvah 101 from MyJewishLearning.com. That site is generally a good source of info. They are friendly and respectful of all movements of Judaism (Orthodox, Conservative, Reform, etc.)

2. WHY DOES YOUR KID WANT TO DO THIS? Your first response to your child might be to ask “Why?” The answer may surprise you. It might be that they want a party and presents, but it might also be that they want to explore their heritage.

“A Party and Presents!” – It’s reasonable, then, to say, “You realize there is a lot of work involved?” Typically, preparation for a bar mitzvah involves at least 2 years of study with a teacher.  Most kids are not willing to take on a two year project with a steep learning curve just for a lark.  If after learning what’s involved, they still want to do it, something more is going on, maybe:

“I want to learn more about Judaism.” or “I’m a Jew, I want to be Bar/Bat Mitzvah!” – Your child is asking you for a grounding in a key aspect of their identity. This is an opportunity, not only for them but also for the rest of the family. Learning is not a commitment to particular kinds of observance; it is simply gaining information so that you can make informed choices about observance. If you have always thought Judaism was bunk, or worse, what’s the harm in actually checking it out? If your experience with it was bad, think about exactly WHAT was bad, and then you can avoid those issues (more about that in a moment.)

3. BUT WHAT IF I AM NOT RAISING MY CHILD AS A JEW? If your child is being raised in another religion than Judaism, then Bar or Bat Mitzvah is not appropriate for them. Talk with your child about why you made the choice to raise them as (fill in the blank here). Share your values and your feelings with them honestly. Own your choices. Parents make many choices for children when they are little: religion, medical choices like vaccination, schools, bedtime, where we will live.

4. HOW DO WE EXPLORE THE POSSIBILITIES, IF WE WANT TO MOVE FORWARD? Your first step should be to call some local synagogues. If your child is ten or younger, most synagogues have regular programs that you can enter.  If your child is older than ten, still call the synagogues and talk to them about your options. If there is no local synagogue, then you need to find a rabbi or Jewish teacher to help you. For help locating a rabbi, read Seven Tips for Finding Your Rabbi. If your own experience with Jewish education was miserable, make an appointment to talk with your rabbi or the educator at the synagogue. Share your worst fears with them. Talk to them about how the two of you can partner to make sure this is a good experience for your child. (Keep in mind, though, that “good experience” is not necessarily “effortless” or “easy.” We value the things for which we make an effort.)

5. ISN’T IT EXPENSIVE? I can’t give you an exact figure. You may need to join a synagogue. Lessons of any kind cost money. However, a Bar Mitzvah party does not have to be a Hollywood blow-out. Again, what you are really buying is a learning opportunity for the whole family to explore your roots. You may be pleasantly surprised with what you discover along the way. If money is truly tight, then you should know that many synagogues provide “dues relief” for those who cannot afford a full membership. Membership in the right synagogue can actually be a wonderful deal. For more about why anyone might want to belong to a synagogue, read Why Join a Synagogue?

6. BUT I DON’T KNOW MUCH ABOUT JUDAISM! HOW WILL I KEEP UP WITH MY CHILD? Many people do the bulk of their Jewish learning as adults. When you are looking for a place for your child to learn, ask about the adult learning opportunities there.  Also, if you join a synagogue, you will meet lots of other families who are following their children on the learning curve.  One of our greatest sages, Rabbi Akiva, did not begin learning until he was an adult.  It’s OK to be an adult beginner! (And for more information on topics for adult beginners, you can click on “Especially for Beginners” to the right on your screen.  Teaching adult beginners is the heart of my own rabbinate.)

7. MY SPOUSE IS NOT JEWISH! WILL PEOPLE BE MEAN TO US? - Many American synagogues of all denominations reach out to interfaith couples and are ready and waiting for your family. Be honest about your concerns when you look for the right place for your child to learn. If you don’t like what you hear, call a different place. Your entire family deserves to be treated with respect when you are educating a Jewish child.

Parenting is one surprise after another. One of the life-enriching aspects of parenthood is that our children will lead us into learning experiences we never expected to have. My own sons have led me to learn about electronics, to improve my Spanish, to learn about mental illness, and to learn what it takes to survive as a working musician. Some of those things were fun. Others were hard.  I hope that if you decide to take your child up on this challenge to engage with Jewish life, that Torah enriches your life and that of your family beyond your wildest dreams.

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Spiritual but not Religious

January 15, 2013
English: Bishop Gene Robinson of the Episcopal...

Bishop Gene Robinson of the Episcopal Diocese of New Hampshire (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Yesterday, I listened to Terry Gross interview Retired Bishop Gene Robinson (Episcopal.)  Bishop Robinson is an interesting figure for many reasons, but he said something that stopped me in my tracks.  I can’t quote him precisely, but here’s a paraphrase:

Nowadays a lot of people say they are “spiritual but not religious.” I think that what happens is that they come to synagogue or mosque or church looking for God and instead what they find is religion. We need to do something about that.

Where do you find God? Where have you not found God?

 

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