Friday, January 28, 2011

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!)

Friday, January 21, 2011

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!


Friday, January 14, 2011

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.

Friday, January 7, 2011

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!