Poem for Shabbat

Krakow Yizkor Book

Earlier this week I was reading the Arts & Academe blog at the Chronicle of Higher Education, and I was pleasantly surprised to find a beautiful Jewish poem, Erika Meitner's "Yizker Bukh." 

Yizkor books (The poem title uses the Yiddish spelling.) were created by Holocaust survivors to preserve the memory of the Jews and Jewish communities of Europe.  Working from memory, survivors would record the history of a village or town, often going back hundreds of years.  They would describe families - all the relationships, births, deaths, and weddings - as best they could.  The books include recollections of businesses, important events, and daily life.  Many describe the destruction of the community during the Holocaust.  They list and memorialize those who were killed.  (Read some yizkor books online here.)

Meitner's poem is a reflection on her grief after the death of her grandmother, who was a Holocaust survivor.  I find it quite moving ("Memory is / ... / an animal with- / out a leash"), despite the fact that the rabbi in the poem is pretty obtuse.

For Discussion: Varying the length of the lines, the poet creates a very intentional shape for the poem on the page (or screen).  How does this shape contribute to the meaning of the poem?

Go See a Jewish Movie

Earlier this week, a man came to meet with me to talk about converting to Judaism.  I gave him an overview of the process - a course of study, participating in the life of the community, spiritual reflection, and the traditional rituals of initiation.  I also showed him a "syllabus" I've put together with suggested books and activities for those in the process of conversion.  Looking over the list, he said, "I didn't expect you to assign so many movies."

Why not?  Movies are an important medium of Jewish culture.  How many of us learned most of what we know about shtetls from Fiddler on the Roof?  In a few weeks, Jews across the country will participate in the hallowed Passover tradition of watching The Ten Commandments.  I use Woody Allen and Mel Brooks movies to talk about Jewish humor (and neuroses).  Israel, the Holocaust, the American Jewish experience - movies are shared Jewish experiences and great conversation starters.

You may remember from a previous post that I like pop culture lists.  So here are two very different and highly debatable lists (one and two) of "top" Jewish movies.

If there are movies on those lists you haven't seen, think about renting (Netflix-ing, streaming, etc.) one.  Or better yet, go out and see a new Jewish movie that might be a future classic...

Last night kicked off the 3rd Annual Jewish Film Festival at the JCC of Greater Washington in Rockville.  They're showing a different movie every night this week.

For the D.C. contingent, think about seeing Sippur Gadol (A Matter of Size) this Sunday at the DCJCC downtown.  It's about a group of Israelis who decide to become sumo wrestlers.  It's one of my favorite Israeli movies of recent years, and proceeds from the showing will benefit relief efforts in Japan.

Check out the trailer below.  And if you want to LEAVE A COMMENT, I'll give you a topic:  What's your favorite Jewish movie? (Define "Jewish" however you like.)  Why?

On Purim: Don't Forget Those in Need

Flickr user joshbousel

This Sunday is Purim.  As in most Reform congregations, our Purim observance is primarily focused on children.  They wear costumes, sing songs, and of course, there's the Purim carnival.  But Purim is not meant to be only a children's holiday.  For one thing, the themes of the Purim story - antisemitism, assimilation, jealousy, sex, revenge - are far from pediatric.  Purim also has four mitzvot, four commandments that are relevant and potentially quite meaningful for adult Jews today.

1)  Megillah - It is a mitzvah on Purim to hear the book of Esther ("the Megillah," "the Scroll") read in its entirety.  This is a tough one, since a complete reading of the Megillah is not customary in our congregation.  Still, you could read Esther online (or in any Jewish Bible).  You could even listen to a little of the scroll being chanted.

2)  Seudah - It is a mitzvah on Purim to have a festive meal.  This is the mitzvah we fulfill with our congregational celebration.  This is also the origin of the custom of drinking alcohol on Purim - but any festive food and drink will do!

3)  Mishloach Manot - It is a mitzvah on Purim to give gifts of food to family and friends.  Normally, these are ready-to-eat snacks like candy or - of course - hamantaschen!  Sending mishloach manot is a nice way to reconnect with family and friends, or just to reach out and tell someone, "I'm thinking about you."

4)  Matanot l'Evyonim - It is a mitzvah on Purim to give tzedakah to the poor.

This last mitzvah is the one I want to highlight, since I think it is most often forgotten in our celebration of Purim.  At the end of the book of Esther we read:

...observe the fourteenth and fifteenth days of Adar, every year – the same days on which the Jews enjoyed relief from their foes and the same month which had been transformed for them from one of grief and mourning to one of festive joy...observe them as days of feasting and merry making, and as an occasion for sending presents to the poor. (Esther 9:20-23)

Commenting on this mitzvah, Maimonides writes:

One should rather spend more money on gifts to the poor than on his Purim banquet and presents to friends (mishloach manot). No joy is greater and more glorious than the joy of gladdening the hearts of the poor, the orphans, the widows and the strangers. He who gladdens the hearts of these unhappy people imitates God, as it is written: "I am…to revive the spirit of the humble, and to put heart into the crushed" (Isaiah 57:15).

According to Maimonides, it seems that giving tzedakah to the poor should be the MOST IMPORTANT way we celebrate Purim.  Whatever we spend on Purim costumes, we should be giving more to the poor.  Whatever we spend on hamantaschen, we should be giving more to the poor.  Whatever we spend on our festive meal, we should be giving more to the poor.  Our joy in this holiday is best expressed by bringing joy and relief to those in need. 

In the Orthodox community, there are very specific guidelines for matanot l'evyonim, the tzedakah of Purim.  The Reform Movement has generated numerous creative ways to incorporate this tradition into our modern lives and families.

Purim can be a lot of fun, but it also has a serious side.  We deepen and enrich our Judaism when we take our holidays and traditions seriously.  Let's honor and observe this Purim by making a special donation this Sunday to those in need.

What's More Jewish?

Is seltzer the most Jewish?

The Reconstructionist Rabbinical College (RRC) has launched a website with a game that is definitely worth a look.  It's called "Most Jewish."  The concept is simple:  The site gives you four options, and you have to decide which one is--as you might have guessed--"most Jewish."  Each time you play, the four options change.  The fun is in the diversity of the options; strange juxtapositions abound.

Which is more Jewish:  "Skepticism" or "Young Frankenstein?"  "Teach for America" or "Storytelling?"  Give your answers, and you can see what percentage of players agree with you.  (There's also an option to leave comments explaining your decision.)

Since it was developed by a rabbinical seminary, this is clearly meant to be more than a brief amusement.  How do we decide if something is "Jewish?"  Even if we can't articulate a rationale, the game forces us to adopt one.  Most of the options are geared toward contemporary American society, highlighting the issue of Jewish identity in our integrated community.  Thanks to RRC for a great conversation starter.

For Discussion:  If you play the game, let us know what your favorite "most Jewish" thing was.  Were there any very difficult decisions?  How did you decide?

Have You Ever Thought About Hebrew Fonts?

Flickr user Nir Tober

OK, probably not.  But you probably have thought about English fonts, at least a little.  When you start a new document or a new e-mail, what font do you like to use?  Perhaps there's a font that you absolutely can't stand.  Perhaps there's a font so excellent, they should make a movie about it.

There are some classic Hebrew fonts you might recognize: There's the square script of the Torah scroll.  There's the "Frank Ruhl" of many prayerbooks.  But there aren't many clean, modern options.

All of this is to introduce this great video about the creation of a new Hebrew font.  The artist, Scott-Martin Kosofsky, has attempted to digitally replicate the hand-cut Hebrew type from a 16th-century Bible.  The process is fascinating, and the result is beautiful.

And if you want to see for yourself, Kosofsky's font, "Le Bé," is used in The Selected Poems of Yehuda Halevi, a free e-book from Nextbook Press.  It includes just 35 poems, a great introduction to one of the most important poets and philosophers in Jewish history.  And if the poems spark your interest, I highly recommend Nextbook's Yehuda Halevi, by Hillel Halkin.  Halkin is a distinguished scholar, and the book is a very accessible introduction to its truly exciting and underappreciated subject.

(For now, the official font of this blog is Georgia.)

Holocaust Stories Forgotten

Bet El synagogue, Casablanca

Last night I participated in an interfaith panel discussion at the National Cathedral, following a screening of the PBS documentary, Among the Righteous.  The film traces the efforts of Robert Satloff, a Near East expert who heads a think tank here in Washington, to find the story of any Arab Muslim who saved a Jew during the Holocaust.

After 9/11, Satloff came to believe that one of the major divides between Arab Muslims and the West is the attitude of Muslims toward the Holocaust, which ranges, he observes, from denial to "glorification."  He further notes that out of the more than 22,000 people recognized for saving Jews as "Righteous Among the Nations" by Yad Vashem, Israel's institution dedicated to Holocaust scholarship and commemoration, there are fewer than 100 Muslims and not a single Arab Muslim.  In order to present the Holocaust to the Arab world in a different light, Satloff began his search for righteous Arab Muslims who saved Jews.

His journey reveals a little-known part of Jewish and Holocaust history.  At the outset of World War II, there were more than 400,000 Jews living in Arab countries in North Africa (Morocco, Algeria, Tunisia, Libya).  Though the experiences of these Jews were perhaps less extreme than those of the Jews of Europe, they nonetheless faced terrible persecution.  As a French colony, Algeria instituted many of the antisemitic policies of the collaborationist Vichy France.  Tunisia was actually occupied by the Germans, who brought their campaign of destruction with them.  There were over 100 concentration camps in North Africa, with ghastly, inhumane conditions similar to the camps of Europe.  Thousands of North African Jews were killed.

Why is this story forgotten?  Following the establishment of the State of Israel and the rise of Arab nationalism in the 1950s, the relationship of North African Jews to their longtime homes grew very strained.  Many left voluntarily for Israel, and many were forced out by antisemitism.  Arabs opposed to Israel did not wish to acknowledge their prewar and wartime friendship with their Jewish neighbors.  And Jewish memory of the Holocaust was dominated by the Jews of Europe, who had suffered by far the greatest magnitude of persecution and destruction.

So, did Satloff find any Arab Muslims to add to the Righteous Among the Nations?  He did.  He found living survivors, family members, and witnesses and was able to record their stories.  They are a heartening and important part of our history.

THE ENTIRE MOVIE CAN BE WATCHED HERE.  Satloff has also written a book, with a richer account of this history and his research.

During the panel discussion, Dr. Satloff spoke excitedly of his efforts to bring these stories to leaders, historians, and the public in the Arab world - particularly through his partnership with the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum.  It is not easy work, but he has made wonderful progress.  As a Jewish community and as people who care about peace in our world, we should be grateful.

Photo by David Lisbona

Reform Judaism's Belief Problem

Theological Disputation, 1483

This week, the Forward published a thoughtful editorial by Rabbi Dana Evan Kaplan, a Reform rabbi and scholar.  In it Kaplan argues that Reform Judaism has a major theological problem.  Our liberal theology, which embraces a wide diversity of beliefs and allows (I would rather say "requires") individuals to make their own decisions about religious living, prevents Reform leaders and institutions from establishing standards.  Without standards for belief, participation, and observance, Kaplan argues, identification and commitment will inevitably be low.

As a Reform rabbi--especially as a rabbi at a large synagogue--I feel very keenly the dilemma Rabbi Kaplan describes.  On one hand, my commitment to pluralism is strong; I honestly believe that there are many different way of leading an authentic and meaningful Jewish life.  I am also an advocate of theological humility.  The Jewish community has always embraced many ways of believing and speaking about God, and especially in the modern world, I am skeptical of most attempts to impose specific doctrines about God, prayer, etc. that must be accepted on faith.

But there are also many days when I wish our standards were higher.  What if being a member of a Reform synagogue came with the expectation of attending services every Shabbat?  What if Reform rabbis started teaching that to be a "good" Reform Jew, regular in-depth study is required?  If we agreed that belief in God (even in the most abstract sense) was a prerequisite--not just an option--for Reform Jews, would it make our community stronger?  Would it make our lives better?

(Personally, I would advocate at most two of the three standards above.  Leave a comment to debate which ones.)

Often, this conflict between openness and expectations is framed as a social or demographic challenge:  How will these approaches affect synagogue membership?  Kaplan identifies a deeper conflict that we talk about far less often:  What do we really believe about Judaism?  Do we believe that attending the High Holidays and an occasional life cycle event is enough for some Jews?  Do we even have any way to decide?

Kaplan does not choose sides in this debate, and that is a wise choice.  The subject is too complex to be treated adequately in an op-ed (or a blog post, for that matter).  But this is a major issue for the future of Reform Judaism.  It's a discussion we've been avoiding for decades, and I sincerely doubt we can avoid it much longer.

Shabbat Reading

Flickr user rubberpaw

When I decided to make Friday my regular blogging day, a number of people said to me--"So you're doing parashat hashavua?"  "Parashat hashavua" means "the weekly Torah portion."  It also describes weekly lessons or commentary on the Torah portion that many rabbis write or--more commonly now--post on the Internet.

So "no," I have not been doing "parashat hashavua" on this blog.  This is partly because I like the freedom of taking on all kinds of topics outside the weekly Torah portion.  But it is also because there is a wealth of high-quality, weekly Torah learning already available.  I would like to share some of my favorites.

1)  Reform Voices of Torah.  The Union for Reform Judaism (URJ) has a long-running weekly Torah commentary, featuring perspectives by two different Reform rabbis (or cantors or educators) each week.  Rabbi Shankman wrote a piece for them just last week.  They also have an archive of more than ten years of commentaries for each portion.

2)  Torah from JTS.  The Jewish Theological Seminary, the Conservative rabbinical school in New York, posts parashat hashavua commentary by faculty members.  This is the one I read every week.  This site also provides the complete text of the Torah portion and Haftarah portion in English, which is great for a quick review.

3)  Torah Sparks.  Very accessible, with lots of discussion questions.  This comes from the United Synagogue of Conservative Judaism (USCJ), the Conservative equivalent of the URJ.

4)  Bar Ilan University Parashat Hashavua Study Center.  Not for the faint of heart!  These essays are written by faculty members at Bar Ilan, an Orthodox university in Israel.  Some are accessible, some horrifically technical.  But if you want to make the effort, they make terrific connections between the Torah and later Rabbinic texts and Jewish thought. 

5)  Haaretz.  For an easier Israeli take, try Portion of the Week from Haaretz, one of Israel's major daily newspapers.  There's no permanent link for future weeks, but you can always go to their "Week's End" section and scroll down until you see the "Portion of the Week" article.  Can you believe this appears in a regular (secular) newspaper?  Only in Israel...

Of course, you probably aren't going to check out all of these every week.  (I don't.)  But taking a little time on Friday or Saturday to study parashat hashavua is a deeply traditional way to stay connected to the Torah cycle and a meaningful ritual that I highly recommend.

Shabbat shalom.

For Discussion:  Is there a weekly Torah commentary you read online that I missed?  Let us know in the comments.

Do Jews Have Horns?

Despite not being in the Superbowl this weekend ("Bashanah ha'ba-ah"...maybe next year), the Redskins continue to generate the top news stories in Washington sports.  This week the big story centers on Redskins owner Daniel Snyder, who has filed a $2 million lawsuit against the owners of the Washington City Paper.  (The full complaint is here.)  The suit alleges that Snyder was libeled and defamed in a November article.

One of the suit's most provocative claims is that an image of Snyder that accompanied the article (seen here...the top one)--with scribbled horns, mustache, etc.--is antisemitic.  In a letter on Snyder's behalf, the Redskins' general counsel writes, "How would you react if you were vilified by an anti-Semitic caricature of you?"

Without debating the merits of Snyder's claim, I thought it would be interesting to discuss the strange origins of the misconception and sometimes-accusation that Jews have horns.

It all starts with Moses.  In the Torah portion Ki Tissa, which we will read in two weeks, Moses returns to the people from his encounter with God on Sinai.  "And it was as Moses came down from Mount Sinai and the two tablets of the testimony were in the hand of Moses when he came down from the mountain and Moses was not aware that the skin of his face was beaming when he spoke with Him" (Exodus 34: 29).

"The skin of his face was beaming"--in Hebrew, "karan or panav."  "Or panav," "the skin of his face," is the easy part.  But what does the verb "karan" mean?  It's a little hard to tell, since it doesn't appear in this form anywhere else in the Bible.  What does appear is the related word "keren," a common noun that means "horns" or "antlers" of rams, gazelles, oxen, etc.  Early Jewish interpreters decided that "karan" was a metaphor, that rays of light emanated from Moses' face, just like horns appear from an animal's head.

Some Greek translators of the Bible thought that "karan" meant that Moses had literal "karnayim" ("horns," plural of "keren").  Following them, the Vulgate--the major Latin translation of the Bible--rendered the phrase, "cornuta esset facies sua"--"[Moses'] face was horned."  The horns of Moses became a standard image in the Christian world. Michelangelo's statue of Moses (pictured here...the bottom one) is perhaps the most famous of many examples.

Note: the idea that Moses had horns was not originally derogatory.  In the ancient world, horns were associated with power and authority.  During the Middle Ages, the image of the Jew with horns took on a more sinister meaning.  It was used to make Jews seem like animals, or worse, like the Devil.

This week's controversy over the Dan Snyder lawsuit shows that this particular Jewish stereotype remains a highly sensitive issue in the our community.  What a remarkable impact for a 2000-year-old confusion over a single Hebrew word.

Shabbat Shalom.

The Bright Side of Being in the Dark

Flickr user [F]oxymoron

Snow: here we go again.  Again this week, our schools and workplaces were delayed and closed.  #thundersnow became a trending topic on Twitter.  Local news revived last year's favorite portmanteaus, "snowpocalypse" and "snowmageddon."  And perhaps most vexing of all, many of us were left without electricity for hours or days.

Having no electricity is a strange experience.  For most of us, thankfully, it is not a major hazard.  It is certainly an inconvenience: no refrigerator, no clean clothes, no hot water.  But for those who haven't sought refuge with friends or family, it also poses a lifestyle challenge:  No television...no computer... What should we do with ourselves? 

Often, I think, how we respond to that question can make up for all the inconvenience.  Maybe you will have a real conversation with a spouse or a child.  Maybe you will play cards (or Monopoly or Scrabble) or do a crossword puzzle.  Maybe you will eat a meal by flashlight or break into the stash of Chanukah candles.  Without electricity, life slows down.  We are much more aware of the time we are spending with others.  We are more aware of the cycling of day into night, of the rising and setting of the sun.

Of course, in many Jewish households, this special kind of time is a weekly occurrence.  It is the character of Shabbat, the day of rest.   The Orthodox prohibition on using electricity on Shabbat helps families to focus on each other and to make space for reflection in our always-busy world.

When we are without electricity, we are forced to live a different kind of life.  And indeed, Shabbat is often described as an entirely different world.  Rabbi Irving Greenberg writes:

Shabbat is the temporary anti-reality of perfection.  For approximately twenty-five hours (Jews traditionally add some extra time to expand the realm of the good), all things are seen through the eyes of love, as if all of nature were perfect, in harmony with itself and with humanity.  Normally, all the world conspires to persuade people that business cannot function without their personal presence, that great opportunities are being missed, that catastrophe looms, that crisis has struck and demands immediate attentiveness.  For a day, Jews, dreaming, hear none of this.  On Shabbat, it is not really that one is forbidden to work, it is that all is perfect, there is nothing to do.  (The Jewish Way, p. 131)

Although the Reform observance of Shabbat is different from the Orthodox, we strive for the same measure of peace.  I suggest that being "unplugged" for a while–even against our will–can point us toward achieving it. 

Soon the Sabbath will begin, and I do hope that everyone's electricity has been restored.  But on our day of rest, let us try to recapture the stillness, the quiet, the patience, and the togetherness of a day in the snow and the dark.  Shabbat shalom.

For Discussion:  Do you have a GOOD memory from being without power this week or in the past?  Leave a comment and share it. (I'll go first–check the comments!)

Return to Haifa and History

Graffiti Tribute to Ghassan Kanafani

This past Wednesday night, many members of Washington Hebrew saw a performance of Return to Haifa, based on the novella by Palestinian author/activist Ghassan Kanafani, appearing until January 30 at Theater J at the DCJCC.  I will not summarize the play, since many reviewers have done the job already.  But as we saw Wednesday night at the panel discussion led by Rabbi Lustig, the play provokes strong reactions, controversy, and even protest.

Many thoughtful commentaries on Return to Haifa have been published online and are worth reading.  Leon Hadar writes about the cultural fusion the play represents, the relationship of the source novella to international "resistance literature," and the potential incompatibility of the play's perspective with any two-state solution to the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.  These two articles discuss an Arabic version of the play that was performed in Beirut last month (courting different controversies).  This post on an Arabic literature blog talks about how the endings of both the Arabic and Hebrew versions of the play differ significantly from the ending of the original novella.  I also recommend the Theater J Blog, where Artistic Director Ari Roth is chronicling his experiences and many reactions to the play.

One aspect I wanted to address personally is the charge that the play's portrayal of history is "false."  In our panel discussion, this was the strongly-voiced objection of both Naomi Rosenblatt and the attaché from the Israeli consulate.

This argument over the historical events of 1948 is hardly surprising.  For more than 60 years, Israelis and Palestinians have maintained completely different, largely conflicting accounts.  For Israelis, it was "The War of Independence."  For Palestinians, it was "al-Nakba" ("The Catastrophe").

The historical narratives particularly conflict on the subject of Palestinian refugees.  According to the Zionist narrative (terribly oversimplified), Palestinians in the newly-declared State of Israel left their homes voluntarily.  Arab leaders used radio transmissions and public announcements to urge evacuation to Jordan and Lebanon, at least until the war was over and the Jews defeated.

The Palestinian story of these events is quite different.  They teach that the Jewish "colonists" used violence and the threat of violence to force Palestinians from their homes.  

Return to Haifa, by a Palestinian activist author, is clearly based on this Palestinian understanding of history.  This explains the heated reaction of many of those raised in the Israeli/Zionist tradition, who have been taught to view the Palestinian story as a pernicious lie, a tool of propaganda

But which version is the "true" history?  What really happened?  To the best of my knowledge, many questions remain unanswered.  Almost certainly, there are aspects of truth and propaganda in both the Israeli/Zionist and Palestinian versions.  The best resource I know on the subject is Benny Morris's book,  The Birth of the Palestinian Refugee Problem.  Morris is the leading figure in a group of Israeli historians (called "New Historians," "post-Zionists," or "revisionists") who are critical of the heroic historical narratives crafted by the Zionist and Israeli establishments.

In the book, Morris finds many examples of Jews using violence and intimidation to force Arabs from their homes.  But he also finds examples of voluntary evacuation and of Palestinian refugees being used cynically by their leaders for politically ends.  Morris's scholarship has been strongly criticized by the Israeli right for undermining the ethical legitimacy of Israel's early history.  Intellectuals on the left criticize Morris for relying too much on Israeli archival documents, instead of Arabic sources.  Personally, I find it difficult to evaluate Morris's objectivity, but I consider being criticized by both sides to be a good sign.

It is true that little of this historical complexity is portrayed in Return to Haifa.  It chooses different complexities—questions of identity, parental legacy, home, and reconciliation.  To let our discomfort at the play's historical and political claims prevent us from appreciating the themes it does treat with nuance and insight would be a terrible missed opportunity.

For Discussion:  This is a perfect opportunity for a blog discussion.  If you've seen the play or read about it—what was your reaction?  Leave a comment!

Remembering Debbie Friedman

Earlier this week, Debbie Friedman passed away at the age of 59.  It is possible that you don't recognize her name.  But if you have been involved with WHC or any other liberal synagogue in the past 25 years, it is certain you have been touched by her music.  Debbie was, quite simply, the most influential Jewish composer and musician in the second half of the 20th century (at least).

You can find a complete obituary here, but I want to highlight a few aspects of Debbie's work that reflect her beautiful Jewish soul and help explain her unique influence.

1)  Debbie gave us "new" prayers.  Many musicians have written folk-style arrangements of traditional Jewish prayers.  Debbie's settings of prayers--Sh'ma, Mi Chamocha, Oseh Shalom, and countless others--are among our best-loved melodies.  But Debbie went further.  She wrote songs based on texts that were not commonly used in Reform Jewish prayer.  The most famous example of this, of course, is "Mi Shebeirach."  She took the prayer for healing--a minor part of the traditional Torah service--and gave it a melody and English text that gave voice to contemporary Jewish ideas about healing, strength, and blessing.  "Mi Shebeirach" is now an indispensable part of Jewish worship around the world, due in large part to Debbie Friedman's insight.  

And there are more examples.  Debbie's melody for the Havdallah blessings helped make the Havdallah service an essential aspect of the Jewish camp and youth group experience. Debbie's "Kaddish D'Rabanan" ("For our teachers, and their students, and the students of the students...") introduced to Reform Judaism, and especially to our children, the traditional Jewish prayer honoring teachers.  Her English version of "V'ahavta" ("And thou shalt love the Lord thy God...") helped us appreciate the true meaning of a prayer many knew in Hebrew only by rote.

2)  Debbie's songs advocated values.  Debbie Friedman was at the forefront of some of the most important cultural and intellectual movements in American Jewish life.  In particular, her music celebrated and helped shape Jewish feminism.   With "Miriam's Song" and "Devorah's Song," she argued for (and achieved) the recognition of female role models.  "L'chi Lach" (the feminine equivalent of God's command to Abraham, "Lech L'cha"), emphasized the divine calling that women receive.  She pioneered the "Women's Seder," which she led several times here at WHC.

Debbie was also a key figure in the Jewish healing movement.  In addition to "Mi Shebeirach," many of Debbie's songs speak to the power of spirit and community to create a sense of peace and wholeness in a person's life.  She helped create and lead meditative "healing services," which have become a staple of Reform prayer.

3)  Debbie's music spoke to all ages.  Some of Debbie's most popular songs were written for children.  Her call-and-response Hebrew alphabet ("Aleph, bet, vet... Aleph, bet, vet...") is universally known.  What Chanukah would be complete without "The Latke Song" ("I am a latke, I'm a latke...")?  The list goes on and on.

With teenagers, she was a rock star.  In camps and youth groups, songs like "The Youth Shall See Visions" and "Not By Might, Not By Power" became anthems, defining Jewish identity and spirituality for generations of young adults.

And of course, from Carnegie Hall to synagogues throughout the world, Debbie's melodies for prayer and inspiration were sung and appreciated by countless adults.

That range, that versatility and insight, is truly a rare blessing.  She will be deeply missed.

Tributes to Debbie Friedman have been written by the hundreds this week.  You might want to read this one by Rabbi Paul Kipnes or this page from Central Synagogue in New York.  A recording of her funeral service in California is also available. 

Washington Hebrew Congregation will honor the legacy of Debbie Friedman at Shabbat services on Friday, March 4, 2010.  Check the Temple bulletin and weekly e-mail for more information.

What is the Greatest Jewish Song of All Time?

Contemporary Jewish Museum via Flickr

Every year around this time, I love all the "best-of" lists.  Movies, television, video games, gadgets--if you want to know the "10 best" anything of 2010, somewhere in the past month, a list has been published for you.

And then there are lists that are even more ambitious.  Tablet, an online Jewish magazine, recently published a list answering the question, "What Are the 100 Greatest Jewish Songs of All Time?"  It's a very fun list, mixing vaudeville with the High Holidays, Broadway and "Dayeinu."  Before I give you the link, I want you to think:  What would you choose as the greatest Jewish song of all time?  Use any criteria you want.  [I'll wait while you think.]  OK, now you can look at the list.  (The original article, with explanations for the choices, is here.)

Now share!  Leave a comment telling us your pick for the top song.  What do you think of the list?  What would you have done differently?

New Year, New Resolution

Flickr user *Sally M*

Has it really been since Sukkot?  It was only going to be a short break.  It turns out: like meaning to call a far-away friend or write a thank-you note, the longer you neglect a blog, the harder it is to get back to it.  Bloggers are filled with shame for disappearing on their readers.  As many as 94% of the blogs on the internet have been abandoned completely.   I even recognized this danger myself, promising in my very first post that this blog would be updated frequently.

I apologize.  But I certainly have not given up, and since we are starting a new year, this is the perfect time for the WHC blog to get back on track.

The Plan: At Least One Post Every Week, on Friday.  There may be more, of course, but the Friday post is a definite.  (I'll post the first one right after this.)

For discussion: Do you have an idea for a post for the WHC blog?  Would you like to write a post for the WHC blog?  Leave a comment by clicking on the link below!