Musings on Jewish Education

Tuesday, October 17, 2023

How Jews Are Feeling: A Rabbi's View (and what you can do to support Jews right now)

It's been 10 days since the Hamas massacre began. That first day - Oct 7 - Shabbat / Simchat Torah (a day that was supposed to be a celebratory double-holiday) - was a shocking nightmare, but the nightmare just keeps getting worse as we hear and see more and more about what Hamas did along with the disheartening / unsupportive responses from people around the world.

For those who are not Jewish, it might seem like this is just another war in Israel. That is why I decided to write this blog post - to give a window into what's happening in the Jewish community right now, which is completely different than anything I've experienced in my lifetime. This is how Jews in my community are feeling, as seen from my vantage point as a rabbi and Jewish educator:

(Note: I realize I'm painting with a broad brushstroke, and what I've written doesn't apply to every single Jewish person... but these are themes of what I've been hearing and seeing this week.)

Deep sadness / grief

The whole Jewish community is in mourning. The Jewish community is small, which means that even if you don't personally have family or friends in Israel, you know someone who does. It is only 1 or 2 degrees of separation. It seems like everyone knows someone (or knows someone who knows someone) who was murdered, abducted, injured, or recently called for reserve duty in the IDF.

There is an extreme level of shock and sadness and grief about what happened to thousands of people on Oct 7. Jews are sharing photos of people who died, people who are missing, people who are likely captives in Gaza, including babies, toddlers, young adults, older adults, and everyone in between. As I said, it's a nightmare, and one that almost all Jews are experiencing in one way or another. Many people have told me they can't stop crying. They can't sleep. They know they should put down their phones, turn off the news, look away from social media, but they can't. And so they look, and they keep crying.

Fear

Jews are feeling very afraid. They are worried for the safety of Israeli friends & family, but they are also afraid for their own safety and the safety of their children here in America. For context: Hamas does not want peace with Israel. They are not fighting for a Palestinian State alongside the State of Israel; rather, their aim (as they've clearly stated, over and over again) is to destroy Israel and kill Jews. Hamas declared last Friday (Oct 13) to be a day of terror/rage against Jews around the world, which meant Jews around the world were afraid for their lives. Antisemitism has been on the rise for the last 8 years, but it's gotten particularly bad in the last week. We have dramatically increased security at our synagogue, and Jews are wrestling with questions like: "Should I send my child to school?" "Will someone attack me, my family, or my children for being Jewish?" "Should I take down the mezuzah on my doorpost?" I spent the first 40 years of my life without any lived experience of antisemitism. I knew it existed, theoretically, but I didn't feel afraid for my safety because of being Jewish. That has changed. The last 10 days have significantly increased the level of fear many Jews are feeling, wherever they live. We are strong, and we will be okay, but the level of fear is very high right now.

Isolation / Loneliness

While all this has been happening for the Jewish community, it feels like business-as-usual for most of the non-Jewish world (in America). I've heard over and over again from congregants that going to work is very lonely right now. That they are struggling to keep it together, to not cry, and that no one seems to know or care what they're going through. They're surprised and disappointed that their non-Jewish friends and colleagues haven't reached out to check in with them, or to offer words of support. (To non-Jewish readers: It's not too late to reach out! See below for my suggestions about how to help.)

Jews are even more upset with the friends, colleagues, schools, community members, and organizations who have not only not offered words of support, but have been public in their support for Hamas ("Pro-Palestine"). This is very hard for many Jews to hear right now, because we are also pro-Palestinian. We want Palestinians to have their own state. We want Palestinians to be safe. We worry for the Gazan people, we cry for the civilians who have been killed and will be killed in this war. And yet, Hamas is a terrorist group whose goal is to kill Jews and destroy Israel. They also terrorize their own (Palestinian) people and funnel money to building tunnels and rockets rather than building homes, hospitals, and infrastructure for the Gazan people to thrive. The public narrative of Israel as the "bad guy" in this war is infuriating to most people in the Jewish community. Hamas entered homes with the sole purpose of torturing and raping and killing people, and distressingly, they are getting more sympathy than Israel / Jews in public opinion. People are also frustrated with businesses / organizations / schools that have made statements that are highly sanitized and don't acknowledge the horror of Hamas' actions.

All this is to say, Jews are feeling really lonely. Many are talking about this in Holocaust-related terms. "'Never again' is now." "More Jews died in one day than any other time since the Holocaust." Jews wonder which of their non-Jewish friends would hide them if they had to hide (back to fear, above), and they worry that their non-Jewish friends wouldn't help them. They worry that Jews are truly alone in the world, with antisemitism lurking everywhere. (By the way, I don't think that's true - I know there is still a lot of support for individual Jews and the Jewish community as a whole. I have felt that loving support. But people are nevertheless feeling very lonely and isolated, sometimes with very good reason.)

Guilt

A number of people have told me how guilty they feel for their relative safety here in America. Every time they look at their children, or tuck their children in at night, they feel guilty. They don't know how to go to something upbeat or celebratory - like a birthday party - when people are dying and in captivity in Gaza / Israel. "My best friend in Israel is living through a nightmare, while I get to live my life in a normal way here." "My family is suffering, running to the bomb shelter every few hours, while I go about my life as usual. How can I do that?!" There isn't anything that can be done about those feelings, but a lot of people have mentioned it this week.

Despair

Will this ever end? How? What will happen to all those being held captive right now? Will they make it out alive? As I said before, most Jews in my community want a two-state solution to the Israeli/Palestinian conflict. They want Palestinians to live in peace, and to have agency over their lives. But what can be done when the group in charge of Gaza are murderous terrorists whose sole goal is the destruction of Israel and the killing of Jews? What can be done when Hamas uses their own civilians as human shields? There is despair about the current moment as well as the long-term future.

WHAT CAN I DO?

If you want to support your Jewish friends, colleagues, co-workers, and community members, here are a few easy suggestions:

1) Reach out to them. Text or email or call. If you don't know what to say, "I'm thinking about you" with a heart emoji is great. Or "I'm here to support you." Knowing there is support from non-Jewish people in our lives is a HUGE help right now.

2) Offer to drop off a meal. Or just bring food over without asking. Many people have shared with me that they've forgotten to eat because they are so upset. Jews bring food to other people when they are going through difficult times. By bringing a meal / food to someone you know and care about, you are showing that you are there for them, and showing up for them in their time of distress.

3) Be careful and thoughtful about social media. There is a lot going around on social media that is factually incorrect, and/or harmful to Jews. Be careful about what you post and share. If you're not sure, check in with a Jewish friend.

4) Read / learn (via trusted sources). For updates on what's happening in Israel, I suggest The Times of Israel. It is a more reliable news source than American news sources. My blog (a previous post) also has a list of recommended articles & resources:

https://rabbigreninger.blogspot.com/2023/10/recommended-reading-re-war-in-israel.html

5) Donate. If you'd like to make a donation to support the people of Israel, we suggest the 2023 Israel Emergency Fund, which is sending money to a variety of organizations on the ground providing medical care, emergency services, evacuation support, transport, and housing.

-----

From all of us in the Jewish community, and at Temple Isaiah, thank you for reading this, and for your loving support!!

Solidarity Event at Temple Isaiah, Oct 9, 2023

Friday, October 13, 2023

The work that begins where comfort ends.

Because that work is deeply uncomfortable.

It is challenging.

It asks us to change ourselves,

and in doing so, to change the world.

This, friends, is the hero’s journey.

Like Barbie - and so many others in film and literature who go on a hero’s journey - we too are on a hero’s journey. But we don’t go on this journey alone, and we don’t go on this journey once in our lives. We go on this journey every single year, as a Jewish community. We move out of the place of comfort to a place of learning and growth and change. A place of transformation.

The image you see looks like a circle, and you might think that the “hero” ends in the place they began. But in reality, the hero’s journey is more of a spiral.

The hero is not the same person at the end of the journey. They have been transformed, and they are ready to begin a new adventure, a new journey.

As we sing each year at Rosh Hashanah, (sing) “Return again, return again, return to the land of your soul.”

As we look ahead to Elul next week, and Rosh Hashanah just a month after that, it is time to start asking ourselves:

What will we work on this year?

Dismantling patriarchy?

Advancing feminism?

Fighting for democracy in Israel?

Working toward racial justice?

Reproductive freedom?

Reducing global warming?

There is so much pain in the world.

So much that is broken.

It is frighteningly easy to fall into despair.

This Shabbat,

and in these weeks of consolation,

let us seek comfort.

Let us not stay flat on our faces.

Oh God, help us know we are not alone. Help us seek comfort in You, in one another, in a community of those who share our values. And then, like Barbie, may we be moved to change ourselves, so we can then change the world.

(Cantor Korn leads "Nachamu Nachamu" by Elana Arian)

Friday, December 10, 2021

"Rabbi, I have to admit, I'm not 'religious.'"

In my role as educator, I often meet with people who are thinking about joining my synagogue, Temple Isaiah. Perhaps they have kids and are thinking about starting JQuest. Or they have been coming to Tot Shabbat and want to learn more about Temple Isaiah membership. Whatever their story, there is one theme that comes up again and again in those meetings with prospective members: “Rabbi, I have to admit, I’m not religious.”

With trepidation, with guilt, with embarrassment, and sometimes a whole variety of other emotions I can’t quite pinpoint, they say to me: “I’m not religious.” People want me to know that while they may be interested in joining Temple Isaiah, I should not mistake them for “religious.”

But what does that mean?

And so, I ask, kindly and with a smile. “When you say you’re ‘not religious,’ can you help me understand what you mean by that?” I’ve asked a version of that question over and over, and these are some of the answers I hear:

“I’m more of a ‘cultural Jew.’”

“I’m not sure, I just don’t think I’m very religious.”

“I want my children to learn the [Jewish] traditions, but…”

“I’m a very open-minded person.”

Frequently, people don’t really know how to articulate what they mean by “not religious,” so I try to give them some language, some possibilities for what they mean.

“Perhaps it means you don’t like going to services?” “You’re not as interested in the ‘God’ part of Judaism?” “You’re not sure you believe in God?” “You don’t consider yourself ritually observant?”

I think sometimes what they’re saying (underneath it all) is, “Rabbi, I am Jewish and I want to be connected to Jewish community. I want to understand what it means to be Jewish and I want my kids to develop Jewish identities. But I am nervous about joining a synagogue. I don’t want to seem too ‘religious,’ or be seen as a ‘religious’ person.’”

The same is true for adults (without kids, or with grown kids) who are seeking Jewish community and/or learning. Sometimes there is trepidation, as they don't want to seem - or be seen as - “too religious.” But they do want to learn, connect, grow.

Does this resonate for you? Do you feel this way?

The problem here stems from a question of what Judaism is. Is Judaism a religion? Well, yes, but … it’s also a people, a nation, a culture, a tradition, a family. Judaism has been called a “race” (in Nazi Germany); it’s been called a “civilization” (by Mordechai Kaplan); my teacher Rabbi Larry Hoffman calls Judaism a “conversation” - i.e. to be Jewish is to be part of the Jewish Conversation that has been taking place for thousands of years.

Further problems come from connotations of the word “religious.” We live in a time and place where sometimes people associate “religious” with “close-minded” or “extremist” or “un-enlightened.”

So people come to me saying - I am open-minded, I am tolerant, I am educated, I am enlightened. I am also Jewish, and I am trying to find a way to be part of Jewish community and embrace Judaism in a way that feels comfortable for me and my family.

The question I’ve been asking myself is, “What does this mean for Jewish education?” How can we make it easier for people to access Jewish learning, without trepidation about the term “religious”?

We changed the name of our youth education program from “religious school” to “JQuest” intentionally. (See http://rabbigreninger.blogspot.com/2015/09/why-jquest-instead-of-religious-school.html for more about that change) How else could we make it easier for people to feel comfortable and confident approaching me (or any rabbi / cantor / Jewish educator) looking to deepen their Jewish connections? Is this an issue of PR / marketing, assuring people that they don’t have to see themselves as “religious” to find meaning and depth and connection in Judaism and Jewish learning? Or is it a matter of education first and foremost - helping people learn more about Judaism, and in so doing, realize that the term “religious” is inadequate after all?

If you have thoughts about any of this, please send them my way. I’d love to hear from you. Or, if you know someone thinking about Jewish learning but do not see themselves as “religious,” please send them this article to let them know they’re not alone!

Friday, May 14, 2021

Helpful Articles about Current Events in Israel

For My Children & The Children of Gaza: A View from the Israeli Border

An Open Letter to Trevor Noah

The Bad Optics of Fighting for Your Life

When Hamas is not our Biggest Problem

I Cannot Just Put my Anger Aside Until Things are Quiet

For Trump, Hamas, and Bibi, It Is Always Jan 6

I'm Fed Up

Now, when rockets are falling, is exactly the right time to talk about building a better future for Israelis and Palestinians

"Our stories are intertwined, our futures inextricably linked. Neither of us can possibly win until we find a way for all of us to win."

Why Israel Lost This War

"As criticism of the war shifts to a foundational critique of Israel itself, Israel can't afford to not make its case. This it can do only by reclaiming the moral high ground."

Israel's Real Existential Threat

Trying to Be an Optimist in Bad Times

We Hold All These Truths

How an American Left Lens Can Get Israel Wrong

"At the end of the day, when all is said and done, this is a painful and enduring conflict between two indigenous people struggling to share one homeland. They do not map onto American and Western narratives of racism, colonialism and whiteness.

Regardless of our politics, we must agree that these two people desperately need to achieve a peaceful coexistence. For those who care about human dignity, about peace, and about truth, there is a role for us to play in supporting those who actually live here and are working to build a better future for both people."

Israel's Problems Are Not Like America's

Hamas's Forever War Against Israel has a Glitch and It Isn't the Iron Dome

How the Mideast Conflict is Blowing up the Region, the Democratic Party, and Every Synagogue in America

Wednesday, March 10, 2021

What I Learned about Tefillah Education During a Pandemic

In the last year, Jewish educators have worked hard to transform Jewish learning into something manageable and soul-lifting in these uncertain and challenging times. We have tried to look for ways to adapt in-person learning to online learning, to engage students, and to develop meaningful relationships. I am by nature an optimist, and I try to find the good in people and situations. I’m a big believer in silver linings, and we have definitely discovered some “covid keepers” - changes from this year that we’ll keep even when the pandemic is over.

But during the pandemic I have also learned something critical: there is absolutely no substitute for in-person tefillah (prayer), especially for kids who are learning how to pray.

Praying is hard. Learning to pray is hard. It’s even harder when it’s in a foreign language (Hebrew) and has set prayers to learn (liturgy). But learning to pray is not only possible, but can be an exciting part of Jewish education in “normal” times. There is something almost-magical that happens when you’re in a room full of children praying - you hear their voices soar, and you can feel their spirits lift. As a prayer leader, you know when they are singing along, and you know when you’ve lost them. You can pivot in the moment because you are getting feedback about the experience - do they need me to slow down? Speed up? Change the melody? Prayer is a dance, a give-and-take between us and God, and between the shaliach tzibbur (prayer leader) and the pray-ers.

But so much of that is lost - or impossible - online.

It is hard to pray when you can only hear your own voice. You feel awkward, self-conscious. If you don’t know the words that well, it’s uncomfortable to hear yourself mumble along. When we pray together in person, your voice is subsumed among other voices, and it’s more comfortable to join in, even if you don’t know the prayers very well. You can sing along to a few syllables here and there, eventually more words, and eventually all of it. You look up to students who are older, who know the words better, who know what to do. You hear the sounds of people all around you - younger and older, kids and teachers, different voices, different styles. You can find your place in the sound. But none of that can happen online.

And so we do our best with tefillah-on-zoom. We have done our best for a year. But when this pandemic is over, and we can get back to in-person tefillah (whether outdoors or indoors), we can get back to tefillah education in the way it’s meant to be done - in a group, with people all around you, filling up your spirit, and hearing your voice join others in prayer.

Singing Hashkiveinu with arms around each other

Saturday, December 26, 2020

Masks, Zoom Boxes, and What we Reveal about Ourselves: Parashat Vayigash

It’s 2020 and you want to see someone important in your life, someone whom you do not live with. Maybe it’s your friend. Or your child. Your grandchild. Your sibling. If they live far away, there is really only one option - you can see them on a computer. Okay, so, you do have some choices - do you want to Zoom? Or use Skype? Or FaceTime? Google hangouts? Whichever platform you choose, you’re going to end up looking at your loved one through a box on a screen.

Let’s say that person lives nearby and it’s during the months when we were not under a complete stay-at-home order. You decide you want to see them. How do you do it? Hopefully, if following safety protocols, you’ll see them outside, distanced, and masked.

MASKED? Let’s stop for a minute to think about that word and what it means. Pre-covid, we used the word “masked” to refer to someone who wants to hide their identity. To obscure who they are. They literally or metaphorically ‘mask’ themselves.

And now, we all have masks. We are all literally wearing masks. Let's see them! Go get your mask and put it on for a minute.

(wait while people get their masks, put them on)

Take a minute and look through all the zoom boxes. Try to see which faces you recognize and which ones you don’t. It’s not really fair since we have our names visible on zoom, but if we got rid of all the names, which faces would you recognize? And which ones would you not know, because they are masked?

Leave them on for a moment. In this week’s Torah portion, Vayigash, Joseph reveals himself to his brothers. It’s a dramatic scene (read Gen 45:1-15).

Joseph was not wearing a literal mask, but he was “masked,” metaphorically. He had assumed an Egyptian identity - Egyptian clothes, hairstyle, even language - so they did not recognize him. Until he unmasked himself. He sent the translator out of the room, presumably switching back into his native language of Hebrew. He tells his brothers who he really is. He takes off his “mask.” And everyone weeps.

This is the last Shabbat of 2020, the year of being masked. So what will happen when, someday, we unmask? What will be revealed?

Take one last look at everyone in masks. Now, everyone, take off your masks.

I’ve heard of someone who prefers to use the word “face covering” to “mask”, because when we cover our faces for safety during this Covid-era, our intention is not to “mask” our identity. Our intention is just to cover our face to stay safe. But in covering our faces - with face coverings - we do inadvertently “mask ourselves” sometimes. It is harder to tell who someone is when they’re wearing a mask. It is harder to read emotion when we can’t see the lower half of someone’s face. Yes, we can see the “smize” - the smile with one’s eyes - but still - it’s much harder to have a sense of another person’s feelings while they are covering their face.

The challenges of what’s hidden and what’s revealed are not only related to wearing face coverings, but it’s also an issue on zoom. We know which parts of our space will be seen on screen, so we make decisions about what will show and what won’t. We’ve all probably seen pictures like this

https://www.pocket-lint.com/apps/news/153915-funny-real-life-behind-the-scenes-views-from-zoom-meetings

It’s not only a mess on the floor that we might be trying to hide. We try to project a certain vision of ourselves, curated just so. It’s not only on zoom. It’s on Facebook, on phone calls, and more. We decide what we want to reveal about ourselves.

But what about the mess? What about the messy side of life, that we ALL have? Where do reveal that? To whom? When do we let down our guard to show one another who we really are? Even all the unpleasant parts?

This year with Covid has been exhausting, isolating, and challenging on many levels. But one of the challenges has been figuring out how to relate to one another through face coverings, through zoom, through phone calls, and without regular in-person interactions. What is lost when all we have is a partial face? Or a full face but contained in a box on screen?

Let us learn from Joseph that there is power in revealing ourselves, even when it makes us weep.

This week, on this last Shabbat of 2020, let us commit to revealing more of ourselves in 2021. Let us share our aches. Share our pains. Share our feelings. Let us open up emotionally, even if we have to do it while in a zoom box or while wearing face coverings. Even if ‘hiding’ things on our screen is so easy. May we reach out to one another in full humanity. Let the tears flow, as someday, we WILL come back together… God-willing, sometime in 2021, fully vaccinated, and in full health.

And let us say, AMEN!

*this drash was delivered for Temple Isaiah on 12/25/20