Category Archives: Inclusion

Make the Kranjec Test Mandatory for Every Bar Mitzvah and Bat Mitzvah Dvar Torah

The Kranjec Test, developed by Andrea Hoffman, Lauren Cohen Fisher, Rabbi Ben Berger, Leah Kahn, Danielle Kranjec, and Rabbi Charlie Schwartz, requires that a Jewish text source-sheet with more than two sources must include at least one non-male-identified voice.

Inspired by the famous  Bechdel Test, in which works of art are deemed to pass only if they contain at least two women, who talk to each other, about something other than a man.

With at least a century of Torah and rabbinic commentary by women that has been published in English, mandating the inclusion of female-authored sources is a feasible task.

Hopefully it will make the “Draw a Torah Commentator” task turn out like the “Draw a Scientist” task. Starting in the 1950s, a series of studies asked children to draw a scientist and examined what they drew. At first the vast majority of children in these studies drew (white) men. Repeating the study over decades, the number of female scientists drawn has steadily increased. This kind of representation matters.

Do it for Henritta . Do it for Mahlah, Noah, and Hoglah, and Milcah, and Tirzah, the original female interpreters of Torah and advocates for inclusion in the Torah itself, the Daughters of Zelophehad!

And imagine what a generation of men and women growing up hearing women and men quoted will create that we can’t even imagine.

To the Idol Smashers

Here is a poem inspired by the recent wave of removing Confederate and Colonial statues. It is also inspired by Genesis Rabbah 38 and Psalm 115.  This is a new means of expression for me. (If you have been following along you know that I am fond of the rant, the op-ed, and the occasional sermon or exegesis). So, your honest feedback on this is welcome.

To the Idol Smashers
(inspired by Black Lives Matter, Genesis Rabbah 38 and Psalm 115)

Demolish the Confederate statues
Like they smashed the stone Hitlers and iron Stalins,
Tear down Cecil Rhodes and King Leopold
callous authors of so many deaths.
Swing the axes, pound the hammers
and pull the ropes.

Then
amid the sudden quiet,
the ruble and the dust,
ask about statues.

What single human is worthy of being a sacred image
the instantiated entwining of triumph and loss
that consecrates a public space
where we behold
and gather
and cry together
and mourn quietly alone
and when the wounds are less raw,
where we picnic,
gaze up and dream?

What hero of today will not tarnish in the slow, harsh rain of history?
Do we need new idols made by human hands?

Let the giant bronze horse in the park arch its freshly bared back.
Let it remain riderless.

The true memorial of F.D.R. is not his polished likeness by the fireside.
It is five hungry men lining up for bread.

Let us build monuments
to all the soldiers, not a lone general
to all the lunch counter sitters and bus riders, not one holy man
to the Chinese men who built our railroads, not the robber-baron who exploited them.

The statues of
nameless Liberty
The Unknown Soldier,
Dachu’s Defiant Inmate,
two women together and two men together openly in a park,
the spirit talker whispering into his radio,
Edwardian ladies with banners in handcuffs,
peacekeepers with heavy packs,
six men raising a flag,
and students on bicycles facing tanks

are holy

not because we must crane our necks to gaze upon them,
but because their stone eyes meet ours directly
and with carved arms they beckon us
to come and take our place amongst them.

Indigenous Land Acknowledgement: A Jewish Version

In Canada, as part of a path of Reconciliation with the First Nations people for the harm caused to them, many gatherings open with an acknowledgement that the land where we are holding our meeting, synagogue service or conference on belonged to First Nations people. Here is a version I wrote (see notes for full attributions of component parts) that evokes Jewish intention, Jewish texts and speaks to our experience as both an oppressed people and a people who currently benefit from the effects of colonialism in our country. 

I will be using it at my seder this year.

Let me know what you think.

 

The Acknowledgement can be downloaded as a pdf here:

Land acknowledgement

Full text is available at :

Open Siddur Project -Land Acknowledgement

Strange Thought: A new take on Loving the Stranger

Crossposted at Jewschool and Reconstructing Judaism

When newspaper style guides started adopting “they” and “their” as singular, gender-neutral pronouns a friend told me, “I get why this should be done. It is the right thing to do. But it is going to be really hard for me to switch. It is not going to just roll off my tongue.” His words reminded me of someone who was on a rabbi search committee who was interviewing a female rabbis for the first time who confided, “I know I should give these women a fair shake, but it is not how I grew up. When I close my eyes and picture a rabbi, I see a beard and hear a man’s voice. If I do this I will be going against my gut feeling and not just now but for years when I will see them on the bimah”. Both these people made a significant effort to adjust their own thoughts and words and what go against what felt “natural”, to do what was difficult and unfamiliar because they wanted to bring forward a more just world.

During the Passover season we hear a lot about the biblical verses commanding us to love the stranger because we were strangers in the land of Egypt (Leviticus 19:33-3 and Deuteronomy 10:18-19). These verses have been used for generations to underline our Jewish obligation to care for the oppressed and marginalized and to advocate for refugees and immigrants.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks discusses how these verses refers not only to our actions but to our words, thoughts and emotions. He writes that God wants us to “fight the hatred in our hearts, “as our inclination at first is not to love the stranger, but to fear or hate them”.

Extending this metaphorical reading of these verses suggests that it is not just “strange” people that we need to accept despite our prejudices, but to create positive change we need to embrace unfamiliar ideas and habits of mind. For justice to proceed, we must allow in thoughts that are unfamiliar and ways of talking and acting that at first seem strange to us.

The ethicist Moses Pava writes that the commandment to love the stranger “challenges the very notion of a static and unchanging community” because it asks us to continually broaden our notion of community, which also forces us to “to transcend our current conceptions of who ‘we’ are.” He observes that to love the stranger we must transgress the status quo. Since the commandment is one that we are always obliged to do, it means we cannot allow ourselves to be comfortable once we have alleviated one form of oppression, but once comfortable with our new reality, push ourselves through uncomfortable ways yet again.

Just as every year the haggadah tells us we must see ourselves as if we personally left Egypt and were personally redeemed from oppression, so every year we must push ourselves out of our comfort zones and try to embrace new and “strange” habits of mind and thoughts. We cannot rely on what was once difficult and brave for us but is now part of our regular internal conversation or behaviour.

It is not enough to have stood with civil rights protests fifty years ago if your community is not supporting Black Lives Matter today. If thirty years ago you began including the matriarchs in your prayers, it may be time to stretch to something like female God language, which might make you feel as uncomfortable now as you did then. If twenty years ago you instituted having men involved in clearing up and washing the seder dishes, it is time to examine the cleaning, shopping, cooking and meal-planning. If you once championed inclusion at your JCC by having ramps and accessible washrooms, it is time to turn your eye to access to programming. Loving the stranger means stretching to new and previously uncomfortable places. For the child of the stranger becomes a native-born and the strange new words that we stumble through with brave intention but slower speech flow easily off the tongues of our children.

Recon Rabbis and non-Jewish spouses

I have been mulling over this the issue of the Reconstructionist Rabbinical College  accepting rabbis with non-Jewish spouses for  a year and have many long discussions with friends and family (some Reconstructionists,  some rabbis, some both and some neither) and I am still not really sure what the correct view is. Here are my thoughts, with more questions than answers.

The issue of rabbis and non-Jewish spouses  raises a number of questions. The obvious one is what do we expect from rabbis in terms of their personal lives. But it also gets at what we think of marriage roles. And, though no one who has discussed it has mentioned it,  it also brings up we mean by non-Jewish.

Here are my thoughts on all three aspects, Rabbi, Spouse and Non-Jewish, with a feminist lens.

Rabbi

What do we expect from rabbis? Though none of the current discussions mention it explicitly, this is a discussion mainly about pulpit rabbis. Most of the concerns voiced on allowing non-Jewish spouse in the rabbinate are less of an issue to varying degrees for  rabbis who are primarily academics, or heads of social justice organizations,or  for those involved in days schools, youth groups, retirement communities, camps, or in hospital, military  or prison chaplaincies.

Jane Eisner writes what she expects in an editorial in the Forward, “After all, we don’t expect rabbis — even rabbis in liberal (read: much less strict) denominations — to pray only sporadically. To go to synagogue just three times a year. To be more interested in tennis than Talmud. We don’t expect rabbis to consider Israel just another country to visit when London and Paris get too expensive.”

What I think Eisner is trying to say is that we expect rabbis to live a deep, immersive Jewish life, that involves daily reflection (if not prayer), continued study and spiritual practices that permeate their experience and provide a lens for other activities, even in their personal life, even in their “spare time”. We expect that from that deeply immersive and reflective life they will offer inspiration, wisdom and guidance to other Jews who may or may not also be living that kind of immersive life.

Is this a reasonable expectation? How all-encompassing or immersive should any job be?

Is a spouse necessary for that kind of immersive life? The numerous single rabbis throughout history attest to the fact that a spouse is not required. But being a rabbi, especially a pulpit rabbi is a tough, stressful, demanding and often lonely job. Unfortunately, while a rabbi is expected to support and serve a community, communities do not always support their rabbis. Would a like-minded companion who could share the struggle with tradition, the festivals, the reflections and many parts of the  journey help ? Undeniably. Would a spouse who was supportive but not really interested in the spiritual journey part be helpful? Absolutely. Would a spouse who was living a deeply immersive spiritual life but in a different religion make it harder? Without question. Impossible? I do not know.

Ben Bernstein in a response in the Forward argues that people seek the rabbinate to confer legitimacy on their view or way of being Jewish and that permitting intermarried rabbis sends the message that being inter-married is a legitimate way of being Jewish. He suggest that this is what has, in part, motivated female and LGBT rabbinical students in the past; to be taken seriously by mainstream Jewish institutions they need ordination. I know numerous female and LGBT rabbis and I don’t think that this was their primary motivation for seeking the rabbinate (for the most part I think they wanted to serve and lead the community as rabbis, but recognition was probably a secondary motivator). Moreover, I am sadly not sure how much ordination helps. Mainstream Jewish establishments still treat women and LGBT rabbis as less legitimate.

Spouse

People have equated this issue with the previous issues of admitting women and LGBT people to the rabbinate. While there  are some parallels, I think they are not the same. First off, I think people have no choice in their status as female or LGBT.  Though in literature  love  is described as an undeniable force, we do in fact choose our spouses. I will go out on a limb and say that our choice of spouse, of a life partner, to some degree reflects that values and qualities that we hold dear. How many potential RRC students would consider someone they suspected was racist? homophobic? or even (being realistic here– no intention to offend)  a Republican?

What is the role of a spouse in a person’s job anyway? This is where shifting societal views due to an increase in women’s rights comes in. Not too many decades ago, even in the secular world women were expected to support their husbands career by showing up to events, sometimes with children in tow, for planning and creating social events that forwarded career goals, for fundraising, and for talking to their husband’s clients. In the Jewish world we expected even more. The rabbi’s wife was supposed to host the students, the stragglers  and the lonely for shabbat meals, make matches, visit the sick, prepare brides for marriage, counsel married couples, help run the Hebrew school and numerous shul events, advise on kashrut and recipes, organize the women to cook for events and raise money for tzedakah.

Now that we understand that care-taking and careers need to be accessible to and performed by all genders, it seems these expectations of the rabbi’s spouse should no longer apply. Such expectations would surely deny the spouse’s right to his or her own high-intensity career. As society, though we take a long time to let go of these ideas. And while it is no longer expected for a spouse to set up social events that promote their mate’s career, we often do  expect showing up once or twice a year at parties and events. In the Jewish world, we are even slower to let go of  what were once gender-based ideas of what we expect from a rabbi’s spouse. A testament to these expectations is that to this day only a minority of senior (or only) rabbis of large congregations, male or female, have a spouse who works full-time. (This not a scientific study; just an observation)

Whether fair and appropriate or not I think many congregations expect the rabbi’s spouse and children (if any) to show up at shul regularly (but not weekly), to attend major events in the shul, to get to know the members or socialize at least while they are in the building and to accept occasional  dinner invitations from member families for Shabbat and holidays.

Think of the following scenarios that assume that a rabbi has a spouse and children and think how your current congregation would react and then take a moment to judge if  if that reaction is really fair and in keeping with your ideas of how much one owes to one’s spouse’s job:

  • The rabbi’s spouse and children never attend shul or come only on high holidays. They are simply not interested in religion.
  • The rabbi’s children and spouse attend are active in a congregation of a different denomination of Judaism. They come occasionally but celebrate life cycle events and participate in major social events in the other congregation.
  • The rabbi’s spouse and children attend shul but also frequently attend services of another religion.
  • The rabbi’s spouse and children do not attend shul but are very active in the services of another religion and actively and daily practice this other religion in their home.

Whether or not a congregation’s expectations of family involvement are fair or realistic they are part of the landscape of the rabbinate that must be negotiated.

Those expectations and the desire for a rabbi to lead an immersive Jewish life makes having a non-Jewish spouse who is actively engaged elsewhere unquestionably more difficult.  I view it as similar to spouse’s nature/ other spouse’s job or calling conflicts like those below:

  • One spouse wants to run for political office or be a successful musician or TV personality and the other craves privacy and couple downtime every week.
  • One spouse wants to be an ER doctor or a midwife or a police detective or a social worker in a shelter for victims of domestic violence and one craves reliable, predictable contact and family time without interruption.

For some couples these might be difficult but solvable problems, for some they might be insurmountable. But it would be foolish to ignore the potential conflicts and difficulties.

Non-Jewish

Every defender of this policy talks about the wonderful involvement of numerous non-Jewish spouses in raising Jewish children, being lay leaders and committee people in shuls, being highly involved in the social justice activities of a shul or graciously making space for Judaism in their homes. They are far  more dedicated and involved than some Jews who have no interest and do nothing.

Personally, I know a lot of these non-Jews. They prepare their kids for bar and bat mitzvah lessons and make the numerous arrangements for the day. They send their kids to day schools. They keep kosher kitchens or  prepare full seder meals and bake challah. They light the chanukiah even when their spouse is away and make Purim costumes. They are active in shul committees and activities. They volunteer extensively for Jewish-based justice agencies. Some are interested in Judaism, some are not. Many are atheists or agnostics. But one thing they all have in common (at least the ones I know) is that they rarely, if ever, set foot in non-Jewish place of worship, except as guests for life cycle events. The vast majority of these supportive, involved non-Jews are not actively involved in another religion. Most of them are content with Christmas and Easter dinners being celebrated with their parents or relatives and not in the couple’s home. (If they are from non-Christian homes, then my wildly unscientific sample says they are even less likely to observe non-Jewish holidays). Excluding people who marry people like this seems like a mistake.

Those opposed to this policy bring up the scenario of the non-Jewish spouse who actively practices another religion bringing non-Jewish prayers, holidays and practices into the weekly or daily routine of the household and sharing this practice, knowledge and belief with the couple’s children. They ask how can you have a Jewish family life when your spouse and children say daily prayers to a different god and fill the house with symbols and festivals of another religion and refuse to join you in the observance of Judaism.

And therein lies the problem. The non-Jews described by the proponents and the non-Jews described by the opponents are not the same non-Jews.

Ignoring this difference makes this discussion more confusing than it has to be.

Obviously people change and grow and someone’s religious identity at  the time of marriage or at the time their spouse is thinking of applying to rabbinical school may be different five or ten years later. But that is true of all applicants and spouses and the decision being considered is based on a static point in time.

Options

Basically, I think having a pulpit position, given the demands of the job, the fair or unfair congregational expectations and the immersive nature of the job while having a non-Jewish spouse who is actively involved in another religion is very difficult. I am not ready to say it is impossible or that some really together, super-mature people might make it work. It is however something that would make and extremely tough job a lot harder.

Would it have been useful to say yes to non-Jewish spouses who agreed to have a Jewish home (however the couple defined it) and raise their kids as Jews, but no to non-Jewish spouses who actively practice another religion in the home  (or are clergy in one) and do not agree to raise their children as Jews?  A Conservative rabbi has proposed ( and then withdrawn) the idea of allowing intermarriage of couples (not of rabbis- this is Conservative) who promise to raise their kids as Jews. Other ex- Conservative rabbis make the conditions of intermarriage a Jewish home and Jewish children (if there are any).

Would something like that not have worked here? Did the RRC feel that it would involve too much prying and evaluation? Or that it was unfair? A pointless half-step? I cannot tell from their statement.

Learning about spirituality from Oliver Sacks

Decades ago I was a Judaic programming director at a camp for children (and also a vacation lodge for adults later on in the summer) who were  developmentally disabled or had a dual diagnosis.

While the actual programming was an exciting challenge (I wrote an appropriate sidur, planned experiential learning, challah baking and homemade havdalah candles), when it came to the staff training I was stumped.

By necessity, the staff were a combination of Jews and non-Jews (who cared about developmentally disabled people and wanted to work in a camp with a good reputation). And the majority of the Jewish staff were there primarily for the same reason.

My training was to convince the staff that all this Jewish programming and prayer was worthwhile despite the fact that some of the people we were served were non-verbal or non-Hebrew speakers or not able to articulate the concepts of religion. And since this was the first few days of camp, this was my chance to win or lose the respect  of the staff.

To my rescue came Oliver Sacks. In his books there are few very moving essays about how church and shul routines and songs helped comfort and support people like our campers.

For my training of the staff I got up and read these essays. I  spent no time on explaining  shabbat or brachot.

And it worked. There was less grumbling during prayers (not none, but less). People gave me and Judaism at camp a chance. One of the French Canadian kitchen staff, who was under no obligation to do so learned the first paragraph of birkat hamazon so he could sing along with us. And he asked me what it meant.

That time more than 20 years ago was the first time I saw how Dr.Sacks was a powerfully spiritual man and writer (though that is not how we usually see him).

Yesterday was the second time I was struck deeply by his spirituality, when I read his essay on finding out he is dying. A beautiful prayer and lesson.