Thursday, January 14, 2016

"Static" Judaism - January, 2016

“Static Judaism”

He [Yehudah ben Teima] used to say: Five years [is the age] for [the study of] the written Torah, Ten [is the age] for [the study of] Mishnah, Thirteen [is the age] for [observing] commandments, Fifteen [is the age] for [the study of] Talmud, Eighteen [is the age] for the [wedding] canopy, Twenty [is the age] for pursuing [a livelihood], Thirty [is the age] for [full] strength, Forty [is the age] for understanding, Fifty [is the age] for [giving] counsel… (Mishnah Avot 5:21)

            Our ancestors teach us here that Jewish learning and living exist on a spectrum from learning to read and study the Torah, the “basics”, all the way through age fifty when we have, in theory, achieved a high enough level of understanding and wisdom such that we are fully able to share our wisdom with others. 
            Yehudah ben Teima knows, just as we do, when we study the simple things like addition in elementary school we continue to use them even when we’re studying calculus.  When we learn the alphabet and begin to spell in kindergarten we lay the foundation to enable us to read A Tale of Two Cities later.
            We grow physically, emotionally, and intellectually and we also grow spiritually, and the version of our Jewish stories, our traditions, and perspectives we accept as religious school students in second grade can only carry us so far.  If all these remain “static”, then the same dynamic development that Yehuda ben Teima teaches, in which we transform from a student into a teacher, will tragically not happen.  Each of us has the potential to be a teacher as we read in the Shma/Ve’ahavta, “Veshinantam levanecha…”, “Teach your children (also your students, fellow community members…)…”  God asks us to teach what we’ve studied and to share our wisdom that evolves over time. 
            This chain of transmission functions best when we challenge ourselves to see our Judaism in light of the depth of knowledge and experience we have from our personal and professional.  For example, as children, we study how God rewards those who do good and punishes those who do evil.  Tragically, the attacks on innocent civilians in Israel, Paris, San Bernadino and elsewhere remind us of how precarious reward and punishment thinking is.  If reward and punishment does not explain our relationship to God or the relationship amongst people then what does?  Do we accept the humanist philosophy of Mordecai Kaplan or of Lawrence Kushner in his book “When bad things happen to good people” – that God essentially is not responsible for everything that happens (or does not happen)? 
            Basic reward and punishment thinking is helpful and provides order for us at one time in our lives, but then with that, as with all other Jewish ideas, we need an ‘upgrade’ so that we can seek wisdom and inspiration when these things present questions that are more difficult, complicated, and elusive for us. 
            To this end, I will soon be starting a new adult education series here at WJC titled, “Jewish Prayer for those who do not do yoga, meditation, kirtan chant, liturgical dance, medicinal drumming, play shruti boxes; people who may (or may not be) agnostic, not ‘spiritual’, people who may (or may not) read Hebrew; people who identify Jewishly as Reform, Conservative, Orthodox, Chasidic, Reconstructionist, Humanist, and Reconservaformadox…”  (You get the idea…) The Siddur, the prayer book, is the book we tend to use most often and, like the Torah, its language, structure, and meaning are all ripe for our study, dialogue, debate and further exploration.  As students we learned the “Baruch Atah Ado—nai…” formula and now we will, for example, revisit this most basic blessing formula to find out what it means in context and what its meaning implies for how we pray and how we envision our relationship to God.
            It is up to us to make sure our Judaism does not become static.  A great way to begin is to ask ourselves, and discuss with others, questions that do not have clear answers, questions that beg further questions.  Try formulating one such question right now.  Here are some examples:  If in prayer we speak to God, how does God speak to us?  Can we really have Shabbat ‘rest’ in a world that operates 24/7?  Is there such a thing as the ‘Jewish vote’ anymore?...When we ask these questions we strive to weigh in with answers to the best of our ability, to engage with each other in compelling dialogue, and we also take the opportunity to express our humility by saying what the great Rashi wrote about inexplicable passages in the Torah, “Lo yadati perusho”, “I don’t know what it means.”  There are moments when we need to sharpen and focus on the questions since answers are either unclear or offer us several options.  Unlike our earlier selves that required concrete answers, we seek to grow so that our Jewish learning and growth are projects that last beyond our lifetimes as we hand down the inspiration to explore to the next generation.




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