Random Musing Before Shabbat–M’tzora 5768–Human Nature

Human nature is a funny thing. We are awash in conflicting emotions, wants, desires, needs.We never really know how we might behave in a particular situation until we're in the middle of it.

Caught in the siege of Samaria, 4 lepers, living outside the city gates, yet still dependent on the city in many ways, decide it might be safer to take their chances defecting to the enemy camp. Oddly enough, they seem to believe that the option of going into the city is open to them. This puzzles me, somewhat. Surely, those in a ritually impure state would not be allowed in the city? Was the time when they were eligible for the ritual purification approaching? Did they know they could count on the good and generous nature, or perhaps compassion of the Israelites living there? Perhaps they thought they could bribe their way in? Whatever the case, they decide that staying either outside the city or within the city is certain death from the siege and subsequent famine. They decide to chance going to the enemy camp - they had nothing to lose by this gambit.

They come to the enemy camp and discover it is abandoned, with much of value left behind. Thrilled with their good fortune, they proceed to start carting off and burying all the silver, gold and clothing they can find. Yet soon, overcome, apparently, by guilt, they determine it is wrong of them to line their own pickets and not inform those in the city that their enemies have fled. So they go back to the city, and, standing outside the walls, shout the good news to the gatekeepers, who then tell the King and his flunkies.
The King suspects a trick. The enemy Arameans have left their camp and are hiding, waiting to ambush them. (Give the King credit, as he doesn't appear to doubt the word of the lepers, he just thinks they were fooled by the enemy trick. But the text sort of leaves that up to the reader to decide.)

Look, already, at how many differing sides of human nature we have encountered. Fear. Greed. Loyalty. Mistrust. Fatalism. All of them in conflict with each other.

Once it was ascertained that the enemy army had indeed fled, the people of the city proceeded to plunder the enemy camp. Guess you can;t blame them, although I'm not so sure that it was food they were plundering. Even int he midst of their hunger, avarice may have been dominant.

Whatever the case, the end of the siege brings good fortune to the city - just as predicted by the Prophet Elisha. (Elisha's prophecies occur in material not included in the haftarah.) It also bring a clever little comeuppance. An aide to the King had doubted the prophet Elisha's claim that within the next day, flour and barley would be selling for a reasonable price, as opposed to the siege-induced markups. The aide openly doubted that even G"d could make such a thing come to pass. In a lovely ironic twist, the aide is appointed commander of the city gate, and he is trampled to death by the crowd of townspeople rushing out to acquire the flour and barley for the predicted low price-an event the prophet had predicted as well, by telling the aide that he would see the prophecy of the lower price with his own eyes, but he would never eat of it. Ah, poetic justice.

Everything about this whole story just screams "story." It is well-crafted literature full of poignant lessons. It plays on our own emotions.Why choose lepers as those who discover that the enemy have fled? Why show the lepers as both fatalistic, opportunistic, greedy, and yet, strangely loyal? And that bit of poetic justice for the aide. It seems a little too perfect, too pat. Surely the reader is going to look at the text and think "this just has to be a story, and not reality."

Which of the two moral teachings are the core of the story-the "sort of "t'shuva of the lepers, or the foolishness of the aide in doubting G"d? Or are both equally important?

Eight years ago, I wrote a musing entitled "Even Lepers Bring Good News" which focused on that aspect of this haftarah-that even these lepers, forced to be apart from the community for their impurities, nevertheless still feel enough a part of the community to overcome their greed.  Like those lepers, many of us can, at times, feel disconnected from our communities, from the greater Jewish community, and filled with spiritual and emotional "leprosy." I know that I sometimes feel this way. Yet, underneath it all, there is still that tug, that connection. Not only would I like to think of myself as one who, faced with the same situation as those lepers, do the right thing - I have the evidence of my own behaviors to confirm that this is how I act in those sorts of circumstances. I suppose I should feel good about that.

But then there's that other question. If a prophet told me that G"d would bring something about, would I accept it on faith, or roll my eyes and sarcastically dismiss the idea? More than anything, this is a source of much inner turmoil. Does G"d, or my understanding of what G"d is or might be, still take an active role in this universe? Did G"d ever do so?
While I've not had the misfortune to be trampled to death like the doubting aide, I've lived through situations where the outcome certainly wasn't the one I expected, and I couldn't really attribute it to some rational, scientific explanation. Yet I still doubt G"d's active (and even passive) role in the universe. Even amidst all the miracles I observe daily - flowering nature, birth, majestic scenes of tectonic and volcanic action - I still doubt.

I need, perhaps, to take to heart what Heschel said, that "wonder, rather than doubt, is the root of knowledge."  I'm going to spend this Shabbat trying to change my doubt into wonder. Wish me luck.

Shabbat Shalom,

-Adrian
©2008 by Adrian A. Durlester

Random Musings Before Shabbat–Tazria 5768–Just Not Good Enough is Just Not Good Enough

Every once in a while, things just come together. These moments are rare, however, and they can slip by us if we let them. This time, I'm determined not to let it slip by me.

As much as I enjoy the work of redeeming irredeemable texts, all week long I have been dreading the encounter with parashat Tazria. This whole concept of "tum'a," impurity or uncleanness, is difficult for us to wrap our modern sensibilities around. To be sure, there have been many attempts to do just that, through apologetics, referring to the text in its own context, and other means.

The venerable Baruch Levine, editor of the JPS Commentary on Leviticus argues that rather than seeing tum'a as a negative state, we can view it as showing veneration for the significant life events of birth, death, and illness. He asks us to look beyond the layers of superstition that have been added over the millennia.

And so we play these self-deceptive tricks, trying to understand tum'a as a sort of spiritual impurity. We wander through our orchard, our "pardes" of p'shat (plain meaning,) remez (hints of deeper meaning,) d'rash (looking for deeper meaning though comparison, and sod (secret) searching for meaning in our own time and context.

Sometimes, those wandering stray pretty far, as they did for me this week.

The congregation where I work has a sharing partnership, a covenant, with a Presbyterian church - we share the same sacred spaces in the same building. At least once every year (and in practice, far more often in informal settings) our spiritual leaders lead us in a joint interfaith dialog, trying to understand each others' perspectives. This year's topic was "covenant" and the first of two sessions was held this week. Though it was intended to lay a foundation for understanding the meaning of the term covenant in both Jewish and Christian views, the conversation often strayed into tangential pathways. One that seemed to strike a particular chord for the 50 or so folks present was the idea of "original sin."

The Jewish view, in essence (though keep in mind that the answer to "does Judaism believe...?" is always yes, no and maybe) is that t'shuva, repentance, is always possible. The Christian view, in its essence (though again, the yes, no, maybe applies) is that we are by nature so irredeemable that an ultimate sacrifice was required on G"d's part. Of course, modern protestant Christian theology seeks to distance itself from this. Yet, even to the discomfort of his own congregants, the church's pastor could not outright reject original sin as a core understanding. As the Reverend Jon Smoot put it so aptly, "we are all toast." (Now, there's fodder for a Nadav and Avihu musing for next year. Just wait. I've kept my notes.)

As our congregation's spiritual leader Hazzan Sunny Schnitzer pointed out, the Jewish view is that ultimately anyone can be a lamed vavnik, one of the 36 righteous persons thought to exist in every generation. He also reminded us that, historically, humanity, and the Jewish people in particular have continually failed to live up to the standard that G''d requires to keep up G"d's end of the covenant (though, in the end, for Jews and Christians both, G"d is ultimately compassionate and loving and forgiving.) For Christianity (and note I say "Christianity" and not "christians") G"d, finally deciding that humanity, having acquired the knowledge of good and evil through Adam and Chava in Gan Eden, simply could not live up to the covenantal standards - no amount of ritual sacrifice as prescribed in the Torah would be enough. Thus G"d made the ultimate sacrifice, by sacrificing G"d's own self through an incarnation.

I don't accept that premise, and will stubbornly maintain that the Jewish position that we are all ultimately redeemable is correct. So, being consistent with my own position, I ought to accept that the troubling parts of parashatTazria are also ultimately redeemable. But how?

Now, in thinking about the situation on this planet around 2000 years ago, while I don't really accept the concept, I can see some sense in G"d making a choice to become incarnate so that G"d could better understand why G"d's creations were having so much trouble trying to keep the covenant, in trying to act righteously. If we play out this little mind game, we wind up asking if this attempt to learn about humanity through becoming incarnate was a success or failure. The answer, of course, depends on your point of view on whether or not humanity is capable of rising to the righteousness desired by G"d. From my point of view, arguing that we cannot is taking the easy way out, the path of least resistance. If G"d did indeed decide, after this brief period of living through proxy as one of G"d's own human creations, that we were hopeless, I'm not sure that's a G"d in which I can or want to believe. Were I to accept the idea of this incarnation, I'd say it was successful if G"d took a look around, and decided to give humanity another few millennia to work it all out.

Now, I don't believe for a second that G"d chose to become incarnate in one itinerate rabbi from Nazareth. I'm perfectly capable of believing however, the one Saul of Tarsus, renamed Paul, could come to the conclusion that humanity is ultimately irredeemable, and, perfect car salesman that he was, co-opt the death of the leader of a reform Jewish movement as an ultimate sacrifice by G"d, to relieve humanity from of the obligation to follow all those silly rules in the Torah. Thus, in this make-believe scenario, G"d's attempt to understand humanity through proxy was a dismal failure. For me, for those who accept Paul's invented religion, it would have to be viewed as a failure - that G"d so loved the world that G"d sacrificed G"d's incarnate proxy as the ultimate sin offering of all time. "My creations just aren't good enough, and never will be, so I will make a final atonement for them so that they may live." Gives me shivers just to think about that. Not a G"d of my understanding.

Having come to reject thoroughly the idea that our failures are insurmountable, I perhaps gain new insight into parashat Tazria. I haven't quite worked it all out yet, but there's a kernel of an idea there. This state of "ritual impurity" called tum'a is not permanent. I may not like or agree with how this state of tum'a has been defined in the Torah, and I know that it creates a particular problem for women, but just knowing that it is a state from which one can recover through action, deed, ritual, perhaps even thought, or just plain time (as in the case of ritual impurity from menses) makes it just that little but more palatable - especially compared to the notion that we are all stuck in a state of perpetual tum'a from which only G"d can release us. What kind of covenant is that? If a covenant is two-way, what's the point? If only one party can do anything, is it a covenant?

So I leave you with this little crack in the veneer of parashat Tazria to explore for yourself, along with others. I know I will certainly be digging deeper into it.

Now, I'd like to leave you there, but I simply can't resist another part of the strange convergence. It's the haftarah for Tazria, which only is read in leap years and other times when the usually combined parashiot of Tazria and Metzora are not combined.
Now, this year, it is Shabbat HaHodesh, and so we read from Ezekiel, which talks about "temple dues," the high priest making expiation for all the people, the Passover sacrifice, a bunch of narishkeit on purifying the Temple and sacrificial rituals, and a nice little inheritance clause for priestly families, with a sneaky little trick using the sabbatical year to make sure that descendants of priests get back any gifts their ancestors made to any plain old common person. Yet for my convergence to work, I need to focus on the usual haftarah for Tazria, so I ask your indulgence.)

What is the haftarah about?  Miracles. The miraculous multiplying of 20 loaves of bread to be able to feed hundreds and still have some left over.

The miraculous healing of lepers. Stories certainly borrowed for later use by the disciples of that itinerant rabbi from Nazareth. What can I learn from their retelling and reinterpretation of these miracles? What does it mean that these same stories come from my own tradition?  I know there is something there that can strengthen my own Judaism if I but open myself to it. (Just as my experience as one a few Jewish students at a nominally Christian divinity school strengthened my Judaism.) If I have learned anything in my time on this earth, it is that we need not fear the encounter with the other. Interfaith dialog that seeks to persuade, proselytize, or convert is not dialog. As Heschel wrote, "The purpose of religious communication among human beings of different communities is mutual enrichment and enhancement of respect and appreciation, rather than the hope that the person spoken to will prove to be wrong in what he regards as sacred." Rowan Williams, current Archbishop of Canterbury understands interfaith encounter as I do: "In the context of interfaith encounter, we need to bring to the surface how our actual beliefs shape what we do - not simply to agree that kindness is better than cruelty." In that spirit, I look forward to next week's part II of the inter-congregational dialog on covenant. May I find fodder for more yet musings then. Ken y'hi ratson.

Shabbat Shalom,

-Adrian
©2008 by Adrian A. Durlester

My Post CAJE 33 Post

(cross-posted from my blog on cajenet.ning.com)

A few thoughts on CAJE 33.

CAJE 33 was a good conference. One of the better conferences, on the whole. Good, solid programming. A great campus, and the University of Vermont staff must be the friendliest people on the planet. The dorms were nice, and the food was quite good as well (that is, for CAJE.)

The keynote speakers were inspiring. (Kudos to Joel Hoffmann for substituting on opening day when Dennis Ross couldn't make it.)

Joel Hoffmann and Melanie Birger-Bray and the entire Mazkirut can be justifiably proud.

As usual, I was so busy doing other things that I didn't get to anywhere near as many sessions as I would like to have. I particularly missed not being able to go to the "Blogging Cafe" with Ester Kustanovitch (of My Urban Kvetch.")  (She, like many others, was delayed in arrival due to the many storms that interrupted air travel last Sunday.)

The new Davis Center at UVM is an incredible space-a real model of what the "Student Union" ought to look like for the 21st century.

Jeremy Poisson from Behrman House and I led a session on getting comfortable with technology. It was an eye-opening experience for both the students and the teachers. More on that in future blog posts. As a result of what I noticed at this session, and another presentation I gave as part of Carol Starin's annual "Five Things" extravaganza, I'll be hanging up a new shingle in the area of providing technology consultation and training services for Jewish Education and Educators. I've already found a great name. In Hebrew, the word consultant is yo-eitz, so I'm calling my company "YoEitzdrian." Yeah, I know. Groan. Again, more in a future post.

Joel Grishaver and Josh Fixler from Torah Aura led a fascinating discussion on Jewish Education as a Conserving Activity.

Helene and Michael Kates had the always unenviable task of organizing the evening entertainment. A host of vatikim along with some up and coming artists made for a well-rounded program. The venues at UVM weren't the best, but the staff for MJ Productions did their best to make things sound decent.

I heard a few grumbles about how popular performers were programmed against each other, but, knowing first hand how difficult this is, having been Evening Program chair or co-chair three times, I'd say it's simply unavoidable.

This year, I had the good fortune to accompany Fran Avni, storytellers Janie Grackin and Dante Gordon, and a service led by Ellen Dreskin.

I was honored to emcee performances by Peter and Ellen Allard, Jeff Klepper, Sababa, and Stacey Beyer.

The Kusitz Mafia (we will NOT be shushed!) was back in full force. Yours truly, along with many others, kept the music going all night long (on Weds. nite, they were still going when I left at 5:30am) in the lounge of University South dorm. At one poiint, I think there were fifteen guitars being played (along with percussion, violin, madolin, and, of course, chicken.)

CAJE Rising Star was back, again hosted by Sam Glaser. Though not as well attended as last year (except for the final  evening)  we were treated to lots of talented CAJE-niks. On the final evening, hosted by yours truly as Sam had to leave CAJE early three talented performers competed: Seth Zimmerman, a teen from Charleston, SC; Todd Herzog; and Ross M. Levy. Ross was the eventual winner, but all three gave great performances to a very large crowd. While the large crowd waited for the results to be tabulated, they were entertained by comedian Yisrael Campbell. Unbelievably, Yisrael held the crowd both captivated and in stitches for an hour! How may comedians can do that?

Before the final night of CAJE Rising Star, all of CAJE 33 traveled off campus to the Flynn Center for the Performing Arts in downtown Burlington. It's a beautifully restored vintage cinema/vaudeville venue.

Doug Cotler organized the closing program, and he has set a new standard for CAJE Closing Programs. A host of CAJE artists-vatkim as well as rising stars performed, and the audience got to sing along to lots of songs as well --all accompanied by an orchestra!

I'm told that a highlight of the show was Doug singing "Manischewitzville" with EJ Cohen signing. Yours truly was backstage running the Powerpoint slides with all the lyrics and didn't get to see a thing, but from the laughs, it must have been hysterical.

At the closing, we were introduced to another rising up and comer-Doug's own son Kyle rocked the house with his absolutely AWESOME Oseh Shalom complete with air guitar solo performed by the audience.

Jeff Klepper and Mark Bloom led the CAJE Chorale through its paces in fine form.

The speeches were kept to a minimum, too.

All in all, a great experience. Looking forward to next year in San Antonio (yet again.)

Adrian

Random Musing Before Shabbat - Va'etkhanan/Shabbat Nakhamu 5768

Haverim:
I've just returned from CAJE, and in just 4 more days, the moving
trucks will be here and I'll be on my way to Amherst, MA. The "good"
folks at Comcast were true to their "Move" promotion - it was easy to  ASK to have my internet/digital cable/phone services transferred. It's another matter to have them get it done in time. I'm likely to be without internet and local phone service in my new home until August 28!

With all the hubbub, there's little time for me to muse (though I could argue with myself that making time to muse on Torah should be  more important than getting packed, etc.) so I offer up both a redux Parashat Nakhamu musing from 5764, along with, as has become traditional, my continually updating musing for Parashat Va'etkhanan, originally started in 5759, entitled "The Promise."

Spurred by comments offered at CAJE by Rabbi Ed Feinstein, I'd like to take this opportunity to thanks each and every one of you, my readers, for allowing me to share my thoughts with you, and for sharing yours with me.

Random Musings Before Shabbat-Va'etkhanan--Shabbat Nakhamu 5764--Mah Ekra?

Our solemn day of mourning, Tisha B'Av, is over, and the rabbis
cleverly present us with this first Shabbat of Consolation, Shabbat
Nachamu, taken from the opening words of the haftarah from Isaiah
40:1-26:

Nakhamu, nakhamu ami, yomar El"hekhem
Comfort, oh comfort My people, says your G"d.

This passage from Isaiah is replete with well worn quotations. But
this year (5764) in reading the passage again, a phrase I had often
overlooked before caught my attention:

Kol omeir k'ra, v'amar mah ekra
A voice rings our: "Proclaim!"
Another asks, "What shall I proclaim?" (Isaiah 40:6a)

Isaiah goes on to provide an answer to this question. And it is not an unexpected answer. Yet it is one that bears repeating over and over, for I submit that we have, indeed, lost our perspective over time (and lost our perspective in time.)

In today's world, we're more likely to proclaim our great
achievements. Civilization, medicine, science, and more.  Each nation proclaims for itself those things it holds dear. Nazi Germany
proclaimed Aryan superiority. The Soviet Union proclaimed the virtues of communism. Yet because this country has outlived those two historical developments, we proclaim our triumph over them.
Religions proclaim their superiority. Some within the Christian
community still proclaim supercessionism. Some with the Islamic
community proclaim its supercessionism. Judaism proclaims its
longevity and endurance.

Yet, whether we measure in decades, centuries, or millennia, our
perspective remains localized in what is a rather insignificant period
of time consider the age of the Universe. And even more so considering the perspective of a Divine presence that, at least according to Jewish tradition, was around before the universe came into being, and will be there after it is gone.

The lesson Isaiah teaches us is one we find repeated many centuries
later in Shelley's poem "Ozymandias". Here's what the great and
powerful Ozymandias proclaimed:

"My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:
Look upon my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"

Yet all that is left of this once mighty person are mere ruins, in a
vast wasteland.

If we have the same hubris, the same haughtiness, then Ozymandias' legacy might be our own.

Perhaps we should heed the words of Isaiah, who answers the question "What shall I proclaim?" thus:

"All flesh is grass,
All its goodness like the flowers of the field.
Grass withers, flowers fade
When the breath of the L"rd blows upon them.
Indeed, man is but grass.
Grass withers, flowers fade--
But the word of our G"d is always fulfilled!" (Is. 6b-8)

Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately) for us, Gd fulfills in Gd's time.
Isaiah continues to drive home the point in subsequent verses.

"The nations are but a drop in a bucket..." 40:15
"He brings potentates to naught,
Makes rulers of the earth as nothing..." 40:23

Yet, some ask "Where is G"d today? What has G"d done for us recently? Where is G"d's compassion, G"d's love, G"d's miracles? Why should I proclaim G"d? Perhaps I should proclaim the death of G"d, or the non-existence of G"d"

Sadly, more and more these days espouse that viewpoint. And even more sadly, more and more of us refute these proclamations with the weak and hackneyed fallback on Gd's ineffability. The "Job" answer. Where were we when Gd fashioned the earth?
Others argue that the "our perspective of time is limited" apology is
no better than ineffability.

If we are true believers, then we must confront these challenges
rather than side-stepping them.

In this post-Shoah, post Hiroshima, post 9-11 world, we need more than ever to proclaim G"d and heed G"d's messages to us. The world needs to heal, to get past the conditions that allowed the Shoah and other atrocities to occur--our response to the religious and ethical
failures that underlie these horrible events should not be a rejection
of faith, but an embracing of those very ethics that had to have been rejected or ignored for them to occur. (An argument I gleaned from the words of Rabbi Yitz Greenberg.)

What are you going to proclaim?

Shabbat Shalom,
Adrian
© 2008, portions ©2003 by Adrian A. Durlester

And now, as promised, "The Promise."

Random Musings Before Shabbat- Va'etkhanan - Redux 5759ff:

The Promise

What a stunning prediction. If we don't keep G"d's commandments we shall be scattered among the nations, there to serve man-mad gods of wood and stone. (Silica isn't exactly stone, but I wonder if the computer gods we are serving kind of fit that description?)D'varim 4:26-28

And here we are. We didn't keep the commandments. Now we are scattered among the nations. And we serve man made G"ds of wood and stone. Oh yes, we keep the ancient faith alive as best we can, but I sometimes wonder if even the most pious among us are meeting the ethical and moral standards set forth in G"d's commandments?

What a depressing scenario-what a depressing situation for us. But the answer is right there in the following verses (29-31.) Even if we
search for G"d in the midst of our scattered lives, we can find G"d.
For G"d will keep the promises, G"d is compassionate and will not fail us.

I don't know about you, but when I look about the world today, and
consider all the horrible mess we have created, keeping these verses
in mind is almost a pre-requisite to being able to cope. Now, some
will claim that G"d has abandoned us, that G"d no longer responds to
our searching. To them I would remind them of the second half of v.
29, which tells us that G"d can be found even in the midst of our
diaspora, but only if we seek with all our heart and soul.

I am reminded of a discussion we had one night on Erev Tisha b'Av. The question was raised, as it often is, why we modern liberal Jews would mourn the loss of the Beit haMikdash when indeed it was that very event that precipitated the formation of portable Judaism, rabbinic Judaism, that has enabled us to survive all these years in galut.

Before the Beit haMikdash was destroyed (both times) G"d sent us
prophets to warn us that if we didn't get our act together, we'd lose
out. Both times we ignored the warning and suffered the consequences.

And here we are, almost two millenia later, and we're still not
getting it. And so we rail that G"d has abandoned us, when it reality
it may be we who have abandoned G"d. Despite all the tragic events,
the persecutions, we're still around. If we're not finding G"d amidst
all this, we're just not looking hard enough.

We mourn the loss of the Beit haMikdash to remind ourselves of the
folly of our still failing to heed the message. And to remind us to
look for G"d, even among the ruins of what once was. This anamnetical connection with our history keeps the message ever fresh in our minds.

I am also reminded of mass e-mail that was forwarded to me some years back, entitled "Letter of Intent," a whimsical piece in which the Jews explain why they are not planning to renew the covenant with G"d. It goes into a whole litany of complaints. I wrote the following response to those who forwarded the piece on to me:

"You know what's wrong with this whimsical piece? It completely ignores the fact that, despite our perceptions that G"d has not kept up one end of the bargain, that we have done far worse at keeping ours, and that despite that--we're still here!!! If that's not G"d watching over us, I don't know what is, and renouncing our covenant is sheer folly, and certain to lead to the end of even the remnant that remains of the Jewish people. We didn't listen to the prophets, and we're still not listening. Yet, somehow, mir zenen doh. When, if ever, we actually try to do the things that G"d wants us to do, at least most of the time, and we're still put upon, tortured, killed, etc., then maybe we have a right to complain. But I don't think we've earned that quite yet."

Torah tells us that G"d is always there for us to find--if we search
in the right way-with all our heart and soul.

This Shabbat, seek with all your heart and soul. G"d is there waiting
to be found. Even if you have already found G"d in your life, seek
deeper.

Shabbat Shalom,

Adrian

©2008 by Adrian A. Durlester Portions ©1999 2001, 2002 & 2007 by
Adrian A. Durlester

CAJE 33 is Off and Running

After a rainy morning and afternoon to complement Tisha B'Av, CAJE 33 finally got in gear, beginning with an opening keynote-that was supposed to feature Dennis Ross. As Ambassador Ross was unable to come, conference chair Joel Hoffman ably filled in with an inspiring history of the Jewish people and inspiration for the coming week of CAJE.

Later in the evening, attendees gathered in 7 locations for the first part of the StorahTelling-designed opening program transitioning from Tisha B'Av into CAJE - from Mourning to Light. Later, all the groups came together for a fine presentation from StorahTelling. Some really great music was provided by Chana Rothman and friends. Sadly though, the sound system wasn't up to the task of handling either the StorahTelling presentation or a rockin' closing song from Chana, and it was hard to hear very much.

While there were other activities following the opening, many of us drifted over to the University South lounge for the first of what promises to be 4 days of great informal unofficial after the official late night kumsitz late late night kumsitz sessions. I've posted a bunch of pictures of the well attended kumsi tz on cajenet. When I left around 3:15am, only a few hardy souls were left. And we'll do it again the next three nights. After all, it's CAJE. who needs sleep?

Tags: 33, caje, caje33, kumsitz

Oh What a Beautiful Morning at CAJE 33!

 

Here's the view out the window of the dorm room I'm staying in at CAJE 33.

What more need I say?

 

Here We Go Again - It's Shabbat/Tisha B'Av at CAJE 33

Wow, is this place beautiful. The UVM (yes, it's UVM, and not UVT--look up the reason in your CAJE program book!) campus in Burlington is surrounded by mountains. The dorms are new and comfy. The literally brand new Davis Center, where all of the Shabbat/Tisha B'Av events are being held is gorgeous. The staff here at UVM is incredibly friendly and helpful, and their attitude is infectious even among the CAJE staff and volunteers. Food's pretty good, too.
(A personal aside-for the first time ever in all the CAJEs I have attended, I had a problem at registration. I didn't have a room assigned. Having observed the agonies others have had to go through when this happened to them, I was prepared for the worst. I was most pleasantly surprised and how the problem was taken care of quickly and efficiently. Jeff Lasday can be proud of the CAJE staff for doing a truly commendable job.)
There's a great collection of scholars on hand with a little something for everyone. Observing Tisha B'Av at CAJE is no easy task, but after the last successful attempt in Seattle, I think planners have a handle on how to make it work, and it shows.
Credit is due to Sam Glaser and Cantor Neil Schwartz who made singing Shabbat Zmirot, benstching, and some contemporary musical Tisha B'Av kinnot a truly enjoyable experience. And it's the first time I can remember being in a dining room that was actually conducive to having everyone sing and stay together!
Kudos to Shabbat co-chairs Peter Eckstein and Iris Schwarz for a pretty well oiled operation.
More tomorrow

 

cross-posted from my blog on cajenet.ning.com: http://cajenet.ning.com/profile­/MigdalorGuy

Random Musing Before Shabbat - Masei 5768 - Accidents Matter

"It was just an accident." "I didn't mean it." "I didn't intend for that to happen."

Somehow, our society has come to believe that things which were unintentional, or accidental, don't really matter as much as the results of intentional actions. We simply say "oh, it was an accident. They didn't mean it"and shrug it off.

I believe this comes from a mistaken broadening and generalization of the concept that we find in the parasha, which outlines a hierarchy of intentional vs. unintentional murder. In my understanding of what the text teaches us here, the more important lesson to learn is that even an accidental murder has consequences.

According to our parasha, those who commit intentional murder are subject to the death penalty, generally to be carried out by the nearest blood avenger of the person killed. In the case of an accidental, unintentional, or un-pre-meditated killing, the "killer" can flee to one of the established city of refuge.  If the killer goes outside the city of refuge, a blood avenger may exact the death penalty, and the blood avenger will bear no guilt. The killer must remain there until the death of the current high priest, after which the killer is free to leave the city of refuge, and a blood avenger is no longer free to exact revenge.

To our modern sensibilities, it seems a little odd that an "accidental killer" must flee to a city of refuge to avoid a blood avenger, and that the blood avenger can exact the "life for life" penalty if the accidental killer is outside the city of refuge.

Now, we can simply reject the whole thing without another thought, reminding ourselves that the rabbis took great pains to make the death penalty something that was very hard to impose. Or we can chalk it up to the cultural norms of the times when the Torah was redacted into the form we know it today. If we focus on the "death penalty" issue, I think we can miss the point.

The Torah reminds us that, even though a death may have been accidental, it is no less painful for the family of the person killed. And the accidental killer, too, will have to endure some emotional pain and discomfort as well. The death of anyone has an impact like a pebble in a pond. We cannot be nonchalant about any death, and especially mot a murder, whether intentional or not.

On NPR a while back, I heard a story told by someone who had accidentally killed a classmate with his car. It was an absolutely heart-wrenching story and I found myself quite sympathetic with the story teller. Even so, the story teller went to great pains to clearly portray the suffering of his dead classmates family and friends, and not just his own difficulties in living with the reality of having been responsible, even accidentally, for the death of a classmate.

His story did help to illustrate that, even in our own time, we need a form of cities of refuge. Even though the police and everyone stated that the death was an accident, and that there was no way the story teller could have avoided it, there was still clear and obvious anger, even hatred, towards the story teller. At his school, during the memorial service for the girl killed, one teacher quietly reminded everyone present that the story teller was also in need of their comfort and support. The story teller told about several interactions he had with the girl's parents, and how difficult they were, on both sides. If I recall the story correctly, he also revealed that it turned out the girl had written a suicide note stating her intention to swerve into traffic, a fact he learned many years later.

There is always more than one side to every story. Is it fair that an "accidental killer" has to flee to a city of refuge, or endure taunts and hatred from others? I don't know if it is fair or not, and I don't think fairness has anything to do with it. Actions, deliberate or accidental, have consequences. Accidents have consequences. These consequences impact the worlds of the killer and the person killed-there's no avoiding that. When a death occurs, people will suffer. The consequences must be dealt with by those that are affected. It might not be such a bad thing that even an accidental killer has to think about the impact of the death they unintentionally caused. If it is simply a matter of convincing yourself "hey, it wasn't my fault" then perhaps we are under-valuing the significance of a person's death. Unintentional or not, someone's death is worth a little soul-searching, Yet we must balance this with consideration for those things a person who has accidentally killed has to deal with, and, of course, great understanding for the family of the one killed.

You can clearly extrapolate this concept beyond the boundaries of murder and death. "Don't cry over spilled milk" may be an adage that makes sense, yet, at least for a time, the spilled milk event has consequences, both for the one who caused the spill, intentionally or not, and for all the others present (or not present) who may be affected by this incident. Clearly, the adage is meant to teach us to weigh and value things proportionately, and consider carefully those things about which it is worth crying.

How do we know what is worth our crying? How do we know what to do, what is right? How should we act if we accidentally harm someone else? How should we react to someone who has harmed another? The rabbis came up with one way that can help us deal with the complexities of such matters, As we are taught in Pirkei Avot 1:6 :...make for yourself a teacher, acquire a friend, and judge each person favorably. We make teachers for ourselves when we seek out someone who is wise in ways that can help us, our friends help us gain perspective, and judging favorably will enable us to see and understand the world in all its great diversity.

Stephen Schwartz nailed it in this lyric from the song "Wonderful" from the musical "Wicked:

WIZARD: (spoken) Elphaba, where I'm from, we believe all sorts of
things that aren't true. We call it - "history."

A man's called a traitor - or liberator
A rich man's a thief - or philanthropist
Is one a crusader - or ruthless invader?
It's all in which label
Is able to persist
There are precious few at ease
With moral ambiguities
So we act as though they don't exist

Well, we're not in Oz, so we don't really have the liberty to act as if they don't exist. So we make for ourselves teachers, acquire friends, and try to judge all favorably. It's a start.

Shabbat Shalom,

Adrian

©2008 by Adrian A. Durlester

Random Musing Before Shabbat - Matot 5768 - Redux 5765 - Even Moshe Rabbeinu Had to Punt (or Making Lemonade)

You'd think, haverim, being "between jobs" as I prepare for my move from the DC area to the beautiful upper Pioneer valley of Massachusetts, I'd actually have some time to sit down and muse anew on this parasha. Alas, no rest for the weary, as there is simply so much to do in preparation for the move. So, as the title of this recycled musing suggests, I'm going to punt. If it was good enough for Moshe, it's good enough for me!
Shabbat shalom,
-Adrian

Random Musing Before Shabbat - Matot 5765
Even Moshe Rabbeinu Had to Punt
(or Making Lemonade)

Big man, this Moses. Been leading the Israelites from slavery to freedom for almost 40 years. Starting to get a little cocky and full of himself, too. Doesn't seem like he's always running off to consult with G"d before making important pronouncements.
Yet often life's realities dictate and guide our choices. As the saying goes, when stuck with a lemon, make lemonade. What else could Moshe Rabbeinu do when confronted with the cattle and sheep barons of the Reubenites, the Gadites when they requested to settle in the good pasture land east of the Jordan?

Oh, Moses makes a show of it, insisting that the Reubenites and Gadites agree to provide the warriors necessary so that the rest of the tribes can conquer and settle the lands G"d is going to deliver to them on the west side of the Jordan. Yet Moshe never says "no, this you must not do." It's as if he had already thought through the potential outcomes of challenging this desire on the part of the tribes of Reuben and Gad, and just wanted to be sure the deal he was about to make wouldn't cost him (or perhaps Joshua) the warriors that would be needed to secure their possession of the promised lands.

The risks must have been high. Yet Moshe doesn't stop to ask G"d what to do. Moshe, to put it bluntly, punts. He takes the bull by the horns (sort of an odd phrase to use, when thought of in context of the golden calf.) He assesses the situation. He assesses his own weakening strength. And maybe, just maybe, he figures, "what the heck. I'm not going to get to cross the Jordan, so why shouldn't I let these two tribes stay on this side as well?"

So he makes sure to extract the promises he needs from them, and grants the wishes of the tribes of Reuben and Gad. The other day, at a Torah study session, I asked the person who was reading the text out loud, when he got to verse 33, to repeat the first words. I asked him to re-read them several time. "Vayitein lahem Moshe livnei Gad u'livnei Reuven..." "So Moses assigned them, the sons of Gad and the sons of Reuven..."

So it is through the decision of Moshe that the Reubenites and Gadites are assigned territory on the east side of the Jordan. I guess we can assume G"d's acquiescence/deference to Moshe's decision through G"d's silence on the matter. (Or, if we want to don our scholarly hats, we can just chalk the whole story up to an etiological device meant to explain, at a later time, how certain tribes came to occupy certain lands.)

Now, as I typically do, I'm being a little hard on Moshe. In reality, I respect his ability to punt. It takes the ability to really stay focused on some long-term goal to be able to make compromises for the near-term. Is it more important that all the children of Israel occupy land on the west side of the Jordan, or that there be civility and peace between the tribes of Israel. (And, also taking the long-term view, as the sages have taught, the tribes of Reuben and Gad got their comeuppance when theirs were among the first territories to fall to the invaders from the north. Was Moshe, man of faith, certain that G"d would make sure the tribes of Reuben and Gad were suitably punished for their choice?)

How many times have we failed to make lemonade of lemons, or failed to punt when we should have, from tunnel vision, an inability to see the forest for the trees? I think Judaism has a long history of this, and it is becoming an increasing problem in our own time. Stretch a rubber band from a center point and it will only stretch so far before it breaks. Yet, if you don't insist that the center point remain absolutely fixed, you can keep the rubber band from breaking. Move the center a little, and relieve the stress on the rubber band.Though we now find Judaism mired in either on a stubborn insistence that the center must never move, or a foolish "just move the center whenever it's convenient" attitude, the reality is that the early rabbis established a wise system that allowed for punting when needed. That allowed the center to be adjusted when it was clear the only alternative was to let the rubber band snap. Wise poskim in our own time still follow this venerable method.

Just to go off on a tangent for moment, let's ask ourselves this question. In the rubber band/center point metaphor, is G"d the fixed point and the people those stretching out the rubber band? Or are we, Am Yisrael, the center point, with G"d always tugging at the rubber band trying to drag us along as we stubbornly try to keep the center in one fixed place? Or are Am Yisrael tugging at the rubber band, while Torah is the center point, which G"d cleverly designed to move when necessary? There, that ought to keep us all occupied for a while.

So think about those times in your life when your intransigence prevented you from making trying a game-winning punt. And then think about what you are going to do next time you are confronted with a similar opportunity.

Shabbat Shalom,
Adrian
©2005, 2008 by Adrian A. Durlester

Random Musing Before Shabbat - Pinkhas 5768 - Still Zealous After All These Years

Five years ago, my musing for this parasha was entitled "I Still Get Zealous", the title being a pun on the Jules Styne/Sammy Cahn song "I Still Get Jealous" from "High Button Shoes"  (though oddly, it was Louis Armstrong's version that catapulted the song to fame.) I'm spinning this new musing off of that earlier musing, using some of its thoughts, but from a rather different vantage point.

In an odd coincidence of time, while I'm still zealous, today happens to have been my last day as Director of Education and Congregational Life for Bethesda Jewish Congregation (BJC.)  It was  not easy to choose to leave my congregational family of five years so that I might move with the family unit of which I have now become part to Amherst, MA. I'm sure most of you know what it's like to leave somewhere for the last time. Yet nothing tells me more about my own habitual zealousness than the way I approached my last few weeks, days, hours and minutes at BJC. Last Friday, I led my last service for BJC, and I was as inspired and uplifted as always. This past Wednesday, I led Torah study for the last time, and was as engaged and enlightened as always. also on Wednesday, I directed the BJC choir in rehearsing for the Yamim Noraim (High Holy Days) for the last time, and was passionate and driven as always. I think that I can do no less.

Yes, the years have not only aged me but taught me. I have learned to reign in my zealousness and over-dedication. Though I must admit that during these past 7 years of bachelorhood I easily slipped back into my old habits of perhaps giving more of myself, my time, and my talents as I should.  Now, once again part of a family unit with a child of 8 in it, I can't give as much to other things no matter how driven or zealous I am, for my family requires and deserves more zealousness, passion, and patience than anything else. I'm sure that somewhere in there is a balance point, and I'll find my way to it in time, but my family will also come first - something that, I am ashamed to admit, I cannot claim was always true in my previous relationships-though I'd like to think I made a valiant effort, no matter how much I succeeded or failed.

There are consequences of zealousness, but we cannot always be sure of what they will be - reward, punishment, et al. Nadav and Avihu were turned into crispy critters for their zealousness, yet Pinkhas rewarded for his. I wonder sometimes if this is a proof text for the idea that our Torah embraces and teaches about situational ethics.On the other hand, it could just be illustrative of an impetuous and sometimes overly zealous G"d.

I think I understand now why so many have this deep seated need for G"d to be unchanging, ever the same. That's much easier to deal with than a G"d whose reactions and attitudes seem to vary from situation to situation (witness the different reactions to the zealousness of Pinkhas vs the zealousness of Nadav and Avihu.) and to put an even more radical spin on it, consider that all Nadav and Avihu did was offer a little bit of extra, alien fire, that they hadn't been asked to offer - and for their troubles, G"d toasted them. Yet when Pinkhas murders in cold blood the fornicators Zimri and Cozbi, he gets rewarded with a "brit Shalom" a covenant with G"d for him and his descendants. (Yes, yes, we've all heard the apologetic explanations - G"d brought Pinkhas and his descendants into this special relationship so G"d could "keep an eye on these crazy zealots" - and G"d was actually rewarding Nadav and Avihu by bringing them into the ultimate special relationship with G"d. They were made holy by being sacrificed. Never mind the subtle christological subtext here.)
Yet, I reject the apologetics. What we have here is an inconsistent G"d who reacts differently in different situations. Voila-situational ethics. I don't particularly agree with G"d's choices here - that killing two human beings in order to assuage G"d's anger is ultimately more forgivable than offering up a little extra alien fire. Then again, how often do G"d and I agree?
It gets trickier, because we strive to base our systems of ethics upon what we believe about that which G"d approves and disapproves. Yet it appears that sometimes, when we do what we believe is what G"d wants,  G"d approves, and at other times G"d gives a thumbs down. On what basis?  Depending upon which side of the bed G"d woke up on? On the surface, that appears to be a rather troubling vision-a G"d whose mood can affect all G"d's creations. And I'm not buying into that one at all. It requires a bit too much of an anthropomorphizing of G"d. (There's a book inside of me, that I am finally going to start writing now that life is giving me some breathing room to do so, based on the premise that one ought to look at the premise of "b'tzelem Elokim" in a somewhat reverse manner--that perhaps the very traits we find in ourselves that trouble us are traits that G"d possesses as well--and that G"d, too, is seeking a way to rid G"d's self of these potentially negative energies. Or perhaps, since G"d possesses these qualities, they aren't so negative after all? But I digress.)

Need we be troubled by a tempestuous G"d, be so insistent on consistency from our deity? And is it inconsistency, or is our narrow view of G"d preventing us from seeing a bigger picture?(Still, I won't go as far as accepting that old "ineffable G"d canard.)

I do know that sometimes zealousness brings reward and other times retribution. Do we, therefore, avoid being zealous and avoid the risk? That would probably be the rabbinic approach-building a fence around it lest we inadvertently err.

As always, as I ponder these questions, and seek answers to them, I am reminded of happenings in my own world. I wrote in my 2002 version of this musing about a time I participated in a little team building exercise. It was tough going the whole time, as 3 or 4 "soloists" kept thwarting the attempts to build cohesive team action from the entire group. In an ideal world, the actions of these few "zealots" would have resulted in learning by their example the futility of failing to play with the whole team. And on occasion that did happen. Sometimes, though, through brutish and stubborn effort, the individualists succeeded. And I found that extremely frustrating. So much so that I and the other facilitators and participants actually endeavored to make it ever so much tougher for the non-team players--because it didn't seem fair for them to succeed. Yet, as I thought about that, I thought about an activity I had observed earlier in another setting. It was a student experiment in "luck"-a game of chance with an edible reward--chocolate, of course. The exercise was structured in such a fashion that those who received some chocolate and how long they had to try and eat it all was truly random.

Some people were luckier than others-and I and the other adult observers in the room began to consider ways to help even the odds--as it seemed some students seemed particularly unhappy to not be getting any chocolate. Yet, in the end interference wasn't really necessary. Things evened out. For the most part. So the zealous impulses I and other had were not acted upon and the result was fair. Almost. Because there was one kid whose luck didn't hold-so we did have to finagle things a bit at the very end. And this kid was accepting and appreciative. However, there have been other times I have, or have seen others work to help give a student or a camper an advantage, and what we got for it in return was not appreciation but resentment. So was our zeal misdirected? Or just unappreciated? Is that what happened to Nadav and Avihu? Pinkhas' zeal was obviously appreciated by G"d.

So when and where is zeal appropriate, and when is it dangerous? It doesn't appear we get a clear answer from the Torah at all. It would be easy to assume that Nadav and Avihu were acting on behalf of only themselves--but I don't believe the text clearly supports that assumption. They may have been inebriated, but their choice to offer yet one more sacrifice to G"d could have easily been motivated by their zeal for insuring the community's welfare and not just their own. We'll never know. It does seem a bit more apparent that Pinkhas acted with zeal on behalf of the community. His zeal drove him to kill two of G"ds creations - one a member of the tribe, another,the supposedly scheming daughter of a Midianite muckety-muck trying to lure the Israelite men into worship their gods. From the end results, perhaps we could conclude that Pinkhas was rewarded for that, and also conclude that, since Nadav and Avihu were not rewarded, that their zeal was selfish. That's really going out on a limb I'm not sure I want to crawl onto. It's also a very teleological approach to exegeting a lesson from the text.

It's not surprising that so many people I know are somewhat zealous (particularly about their Judaism, and also about how they think other Jews should live.) I am one of those zealots. Like Nadav and Avihu, I have been stung (though perhaps with less drastic consequences) by allowing my unmitigated zeal to get the better of me. Like Pinkhas, I have also had the occasional reward for being zealous.

One would have thought that, after all these years, the level of my zeal would have decreased somewhat. Look-it even happened to Moshe, so why not me? That Moshe would so easily go to his grave, shucking and jiving and not openly complaining (too much) about his not getting to enter the promised land. That he even struck the rock in the first place. All signs of flagging zeal (or perhaps just old age.) Yet even today, on my last day, during my last hours, even my last few minutes, I worked to complete my tasks and prepare the way for my successor with passion and zeal. I did it not for any reward, for, particularly in this case, there would be none to be had-the tributes were long over and now came the silent slow walk out of the stadium after all the fans had left. Yet there is perceptible reward - and that is how I feel about myself, my professionalism, my passion, my dedication. Tonight I don't need the strokes of others to make me feel good. I'm flying high on the reward of my own good feelings.

I'm perhaps a little bit closer now than when I started in trying to figure out when to be zealous and when to not act with zeal, but I haven't figured it all out just yet. Great-that gives me something to ponder this Shabbat. I hope I've engaged you enough to get you pondering that question this Shabbat as well.

As always, a sweet Shabbat to you and yours.

Shabbat Shalom,

Adrian

©2008 by Adrian A. Durlester (portions ©2002 by Adrian A. Durlester)

Saying Shalom to My BJC Family

Saying farewell is never easy. Friday, July 18, 2008 will be my final day as Director of Education and Congregational Life at Bethesda Jewish Congregation. That day will mark the end of five wonderful years with my BJC family. BJC is truly a unique place, and one that truly enabled me to utilize my wide range of talents and skills, and explore my wide range of interests.

 

The people of BJC have truly been a blessing to me.  The teachers - dedicated, flexible, passionate. Parents - helpful, supportive, pitching in whenever needed. Most importantly - the students. They are why I do what I do. They are all my children, and I hope that I have, in at least some small way, had a positive influence on their lives.

My role at BJC extended far beyond the usual confines of a Director of Education. I played music, directed the choir, taught adult ed programs, facilitated Torah study and even led services. In these roles, too, the people of BJC are what made it all worthwhile. The dedicated singers in our High Holy Days choir, the meshuganneh participants in our Purim Shpiels, Board Meetings that had little of the usual Sturm und Drang of synagogue Board meetings, Torah study devotees with insightful interpretations, congregants dancing in the aisles at Simchah B'Shabbat services, congregants regularly showing up to attend a minyan at a house of mourning, congregants who put their money and their bodies whole heartedly into social action.

Thank you, BJC, for 5 wonderful years. I shall miss you all.

Synagogues-Flouting Employment and Tax Laws--where is the DINA D'MALKHUTA DINA?

On a local supplemental Jewish religious school principals list I belong to, many questions have come up of late about  educators being paid as independent contractors, and other issues of employment and tax law. There are a lot of misconceptions out there. Here is one of the replies I wrote, which I hope may also be of value to my readers. Note especially the information about Independent Contractors vs Employee; special tax treatments for clergy; the confusion between Self-Employment and Independent Contractor, etc,
-----------------------------------
Folks:
There is a lot of bad, incorrect information out there regarding tax/employment law and synagogues. In addition, many lay leaders at synagogues do NOT have a clear understanding of tax law. I've already made my case regarding "independent contractors." Most synagogues and churches are deluding themselves when trying to get away with treating employees as independent contractors. Churches and synagogues get no special treatment in this regard. Most people are just confusing the special tax treatment of ordained clergy with a generic concept they believe is applicable to all who work for them. That is an incorrect assumption.
A reminder to visit:
www.irs.gov/businesses/small/article/0,,id=99921,00.html

It's generally clear but, and, in most cases, you'll find that most people who work in a synagogue are employees and not independent contractors.

There is also a great deal of confusion between the terms "Independent Contractor" and "Self-Employed." The fact is, most rabbis or hazzanim who work for one congregation are employees, but their salary is treated as self-employment income. Rabbis/Hazzanim are considered self-employed for Social Security and Medicare taxes, so the synagogue does not have to withhold or report these taxes even if the rabbi is an employee and the synagogue withholds income taxes. A rabbi/Hazzan does have to pay self-employment taxes, (i.e. for Social Security and Medicare.) (A rabbi/hazzan can choose voluntary tax withholding as an option.)
If you are a rabbi/hazzan, but not performing the usual duties as defined by the IRS, you don't get the special treatment. (An ordained rabbi working as a programmer for Apple is not treated as a rabbi for tax purposes in re his work for Apple, but if he does rabbinic work on the side as an Independent Contractor, that income is treated a ministerial income.)

But if you are not a rabbi/hazzan, then, chances are you do NOT qualify under IRS regulations for parsonage or to have all your income treated as self-employment, except under very special circumstances.

If you are a Director of Education or a teacher, chances are that you are a regular employee. (Remember, Rabbis/Hazzanim are considered employees for the most part-it's just their income is treated as self-employment income and withholding is NOT required-but they also have to pay the higher self-employment tax rate for FICA and MEDICARE.)

I urge everyone to read this link:

http://books.google.com/books?id=xJfWZNHo6nkC&pg=PA214&lpg=PA214&dq=minimum+number+of+employees+withholding&source=web&ots=_7saf4q4JX&sig=47LedCAn6CqwEIEzKT_Xg9OBWqU&hl=en&sa=X&oi=book_result&resnum=6&ct=result

There is no "minimum number of employees" before a church or synagogue has to withhold taxes and pay the matching FICA and FUTA. Few, if any, teachers or Directors of Education would qualify as bona-fide  clergy to be eligible for the special treatment-payment as a "minister", and qualify for parsonage (housing allowance.)

Now, as to whether or not you might be eligible to receive parsonage, and have your income treated like regular clergy, that's a whole different ball of wax.
While it is true that the IRS is loathe to get into a tussle about who is and is not a bona fide minister qualifying for parsonage, anyone seeking parsonage must at least meet the minimum expectation that they do, on a regular or substitute basis, provide essentially all the functions of ordained clergy.

Here's another great resource on defining a "minister" for tax purposes:

http://www.churchlawtoday.com/newminlesson.php?136

In the church world, some "Ministers of Education" are given parsonage, and some are not. A lot depends on the specifics of their responsibilities.

As I've stated before, dina malkhuta dina (the law of the land is the law.) If your synagogue is not following IRS regulations, then it seems to me you are obligated for tokhekha (rebuke.)

I've already been on a 10 year campaign to get synagogues to stop breaking copyright laws (how much music gets photocopied for your choirs? How many CDs or restricted mp3 downloads have been illegally duplicated for your teachers? How many textbooks have you copied? Remember-synagogues are NOT eligible for the educational exemptions under copyright law.And Jewish songwriters need their parnassa, or they will have to stop writing music.) Seems I'm going to have to add a campaign to get synagogues to follow employment law as well. I'm sure I'll have that presentation worked up for CAJE 34 in 2009.

Kol tuv,

-Adrian
©2008 by Adrian A. Durlester

Random Musing Before Shabbat - Korakh 5768: If Korakh Had Guns

I'm angry. You may not agree with me about this, but I believe our venerated Supreme Court has perpetrated a great injustice upon us. How could five learned justices conclude that the second amendment guarantees an individual right to own a gun for self-defense? Constitutional interpretation aside, how could any sane human conclude that owning weapons is a good thing? Weapons have but one purpose - to injure or kill, or, at the very least, frighten someone into believing that might be killed or injured. (Of course, saying "defense" sounds better, but let's lay our cards on the table here. Defense is really just offense with a positive spin.)

Sadly, I must conclude that a lot of biblical text, of which our parasha is an example, is responsible for the mind set that conflict is inevitable, and that, therefore, weapons and threats are necessary to "maintain the peace."

You know, if Moshe and Aharon had guns, Korakh's little rebellion might have been stopped in its tracks without needing any Divine interference. If Korakh and his band had guns, things might have turned out differently....oh, wait. No, they wouldn't. G"d plays favorites. After all, almonds are a man's best friend:

(with apologies to Jule Styne)
A tall wooden staff
May be quite continental
But almonds are a priest's best friend.

A fire in a pan
Can be quite detrimental
To your G"d you'll give
But watch or you just won't live

G"d gets mad
Don't be a cad,
Or we'll all lose our lives in the end.

But your staff or my staff,
They're just like a gold calf,
Almonds are a priest's best friend.

(Sorry, I just couldn't resist.)

I guess the five justices were right. If we exist in a Divine creation in which the Divine Creator thinks nothing of wiping out tens of thousands, yeah, even a group of 250, then we live in a universe in which its Creator doesn't value its creations very highly. It turns the very idea of b'tzelem Elokim into a travesty. If we are made in G"d's image, and G"d can so callously kill, then I guess maybe it's okay for each of us to own a gun. Let's give every baby a gun when it is born! Yeah, whoopee! Don't like something someone else did? Bam. Wipe 'em out. Enough of this and you have the deathly version of the old idea that following "an eye for an eye..." will leave a world full of the blind and toothless. Only we'd have a world full of...nothing. Just dead bodies.

This whole 2nd amendment debate bears a striking resemblance to many of the debates within Biblical scholarship - between literalists and contextualists, fundamentalists and relevantists, minimalists and maximalists. Of course, if we can't be certain, after only 232 years or so, of what the intent of the founding fathers and drafters of the Constitution was, even though we know so much about the actual context, then how much more futile must it appear to attempt to know the intent of the creators of (or Creator of) the Torah, when we can be even less certain of their context.

For most of us, today, it is all about the individual. Individual rights and responsibilities. Individual relationships with the Divine. Individual forms of worship and prayer. The cummulative wisdom of our Jewish tradition seems to teach the opposite - that it is all about community, of the people acting together. The question is, what happens when the people disagree with one another?

Would that G"d were truly manifest to us. Then G"d could make it quite clear to us which of our "choices" G'd wants us to choose (there-that nicely sums up the Jewish position of all is pre-ordained by G"d, yet each of us has free will.) The problem with the Korakh story is that  the consequences of choice could be death at the hands of a capricious and jealous G"d. Couldn't G"d have just spoken upl in full hearing of Korakh and all the people, and said "No! I want Moses to be in charge. OK? Get it? Got it? Good!" Now, to some extent, and to be fair, the little sprouting staff thing is similar, though a little less direct. Still, did 14, 950 people (you do the math) really have to die just for G"d to make the point that Moses was to be in charge, and Aharon was to be the priest?

If we can't even figure out the clear meaning of

"A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed."

which contains, in the first part, a classic abaltive absolutive (a Latin grammar construct) intended, purposefully, to limit the scope of the following clause, then how will we  ever figure out:

" You shall not boil a kid in its mother's milk."

There's a wonderful irony. In the parasha, G"d gives the people a leader (and a high priest) without them asking it, and some of the people complain that leaders are lording over them unfairly - over this nation of priests and a holy people. In return, G'd smites the complainers. In the haftarah, G"d, through Shmuel, reluctantly gives the Israelites a King. The people, realizing they may have gone too far in daring to ask G"d for a King to rule over them implore Shmuel to intercede on their behalf with G"d for their sin. Shmuel tells the people that yes, they did indeed sin, but that G"d would still not abandon them.

Would that I could believe the closing words of Shmuel in the haftarah:

"For the sake of His (sic) great name, the L"rd will never abandon His (sic) people, seeing that the L"rd undertook to make you His (sic) people."

It may be so, but you gotta read the fine print. Trouble is, just like todays "fine print", the "fine print" of the Torah is often hard to understand.

How can I be so certain of the meaning of the second amendment, yet so uncertain as to the meaning of so much in the Torah? Do I really know the founding fathers any better than I do the ancestral founding fathers and mothers? In the end, all I can really know is what feels right to me, and what feels wrong. Making it easier for people to own guns feels wrong. G"d wiping out 14,950 people just to insure the people wouldn't challenge Moses and Aharon feels wrong. Continuing to read and study Torah, even though what I read often feels wrong to me, feels right.

Sadly, I'm not sure how many "the community" agree with me on any of those.

Shabbat shalom,

Adrian
©2008 by Adrian A. Durlester

Random Musing Before Shabbat - Sh'lakh L'kha 5768

Note: Those of you who are regular readers of my musings know that I have used, on occasion, a diary format in creating modern, yet anamnetical midrash. (As Tom Lehrer once said "the rest of you can look that up when you get home.") I've mused about journals written by Avraham, Yitzkhak, Moshe, Lot and others. This year, I thought it might be interesting to fill in a gap in the Torah using this same literary device. I've written in previous musings on this parasha that it's curious that there is no account of the sights and situations encountered by the 12 spies. We have only the reports upon their return, brief as they are, and with a clear glass half-empty report from the majority and glass-half-full report from a minority consisting of Caleb, and, later supported by Joshua (but it's easy to infer from the text that Joshua may have been a little more reticent than Caleb to speak up, and the first we know of Joshua's feelings is when he tears his clothes along with Caleb after the people react with fright and geshrying after being told the embellished fabrication of the giants that occupied the promised land that would prevent the people from occupying it.

I think our view of this whole incident might be quite different if the torah had included an account of the travels of the spies through Canaan. So let's pretend.

From the Journal of Caleb

Dear Diary:

Oy vey is mir! Just my luck, being a leader instead of a follower. Moshe says the G"d commanded him to send out spies to check out this Canaan place that we are supposed to occupy as our own. And who do you think Moshe picks from my tribe of Judah? Little ol' me. When I look at who else was picked from the other tribes, I have a sneaking suspicion that, while we may have been singled out for bravery, we might also have been chosen because we're somewhat expendable.

I don't get it, anyway, diary. This G"d, who brought down mighty Egypt with plagues, parted the waters for us, gave us manna to eat, and spoke to us from atop the mountain, needs us to go check out the land that this G"d says is being given to us? Surely, this G"d knows what the situation is, and, with one wave of a hand, can empty the land of people and give it to us. What kind of G"d needs people to do the dirty work?

I know I shouldn't doubt like this, and I feel guilty. My doubts could doom all of us. Still, I don't really know if the ancient stories are true. Is this the G"d that knew our people before we were slaves to Pharaoh? Are the stories of Joseph, Jacob, Isaac, and Avraham true, or just myths? Was this land of Canaan truly promised to our ancestors, and be our inheritance? I'm still just not sure about this G"d. I want to believe, I really do. But I have my doubts.

Dear Diary:

Can't write much, as the 12 of us are about to set off on our mission. Moshe told us to check out the military strength of the inhabitants, but to check out the terrain and the land as well. Doesn't Moshe know we're going to find a land flowing with milk and honey? That's what this G"d said, isn't it? Right. We'll all believe it when we see it. After all, why send us to check it out if we already know what we'll find? Oh, and get this - Moshe wants us to bring back some fruit. Guess he wants proof. And Moshe says he has complete faith in this G"d. Right.

Anyway, I had to make a note about this one odd thing that happened. You'll never believe it. Another one of Moshe's slick publicity stunts. Just as we're getting our final instructions, Moshe calls Hoshea the Ehpraimite up, does his little hand and staff mumbo jumbo, and announces to all that from now on Hoshea will be known as Yehoshua. Must have some sort of meaning-maybe it's a sort of talisman to protect us. I don't know. If Moshe was trying to evoke the protection of this G"d, why not name him Hoshea-El or something like that? I thin it's weird, but somehow I also think it is gonna be significant. I can't shake that feeling. I think I'll try to get to know Hoshea, er, I mean Yehoshua, better.

Dear Diary:

Sorry it's been a few days, but we've been doing a lot of traveling, mostly through this pretty barren wilderness they call Zin. Finally reach this place called Lebohamath, on the border of Canaan. Fairly sizable place, lots of activity. They didn't seem too surprised to see a bunch of nomads, and didn't ask too many questions. Some of the guys spent a lot of time sneaking around checking out the town’s fortifications, and pumping people they met for information about Canaanite cities. Me, I spent more time checking out the local delicacies...and the food, too! Oh, don't worry diary, I won't let myself be led astray. I haven't seen any evidence that their gods are all that powerful or special, and I'm not that desperate or horny. Just a little company and comfort is all I ask, and the native ladies seemed quite accommodating.

Palti, Gadiel, and Ammiel have been muttering and mumbling about how well fortified this place seems. Yes, there are a lot of them, but the people here seem pretty peaceful to me. I almost feel bad that we're going to have to dispossess them. Tomorrow, we head out into this desert the locals call the Negev, on our way up to Khevron. Oh, joy. Although it'll be interesting to see if the legends are true about our ancestors tombs in Khevron. I'm not holding my breath.

Dear Diary:

This is the promised land? This wasteland of dunes, outcroppings, shifting sands? Thank the gods (whoops, I mean G"d) for the occasional oasis. Why would anyone want to live here? Where's the milk and honey?

Shammua, Sethur, and Nahbi were talking to some traders we met at an oasis yesterday, and they told them that as we headed north into the plains they were going to find a lot of pretty tall people - Anakites, they called them. At least I know that this forsaken desert comes to an end.

Dear Diary:

Well, here we are in Khevron. Took us quite a bit of time to get here. , but at least we're out of that desert. Khevron, itself, is quite a ways out of the desert - it isn’t the first place you come to after getting out of the Negev. That distinction belongs to a little hamlet we passed through called Beersheva. Hmmm - seven wells. That name rings a bell. I think there's something in one of the ancient legends about that place and those wells. I couldn't quite remember, so I asked a few of the other guys. They told me to quit wasting my time on ancient fairy tales, and focus on reconnoitering. I swear, most of them were seeing phantoms. Igal, Shaphat, Geul and Gadi said they ran into these three fellas named Ahiman, Shesai, and Talmai. Said they were the real McCoy - Anakites. Real tall ones. They bought them a few beers to get them talking. They asked them if all the people up north from where they came were as tell, and they said "of course." Some people will believe anything. Somehow, I have my doubts.

Finally, this land of milk and honey didn’t seem like such a myth. This region was pretty fecund, with lots of orchards and vineyards, and good, fertile soil.

We sat around deciding where to go next. Everyone wanted to check out this placed called the Wadi Eschol, where there were supposed to be giant grapes. I think I was the only one who wanted to be a tourist and an explorer. "Guys," I said. "Here we are in Khevron. Not a stone's throw from here is the legendary cane at Makhpelah. Aren't any of you curious to see if we're on a snipe hunt or not?" Once again, I was shouted down. "Legends, shmegends" said all the others, even Joshua. Let's go get some of those giant grapes - and have some giant glasses of wine, too!"

"Not me," I found myself saying out loud. “I’m going to look for that cave." Suit yourself," said Yehoshua and the others. "We'll stop on the way back and pick you up before we head home."

Dear Diary:

Diary, you are not going to believe this. I found it! I've actually been there. The tomb the ancient stories talk about, in Makhpelah. I asked around to see if there was anybody who knew of a cave in a field near here. No one knew a thing, but then I found this old woman who said she had heard of such a place. Tales passed down in her family for generations. She said she was descended from the original occupants of this place, the Hittites, and they used to call this place that was now Khevron by the name Mamre. The stories told of a man who came from a distant land, and lived among our people for a while. When his wife died, he asked permission to buy a field with a cave in it that he could use as a burial place. She said, "My ancestors were pretty good merchants - they managed to extract almost 400 shekels - and that was a lot of money back then - for the land. It's said that others of his family and his line are buried there as well. We may have extracted a high price for the land, but we always honored the contract. I know where the place is, and if you are truly a descendant of this man, I will show it to you."

I asked, "How can you know if I am truly a descendant of this man?" "It is simple," she said. "We have been taught to ask only one question. What is the name of the god that you worship?"

"We do not know his name," I answered. "He is what he is, and what he will be. He has done mighty and awesome deeds for us"

"That may well be, but I cannot show you the tomb," she said.

I turned to go, disappointed. It seemed that perhaps the stories, the legends were all true. Perhaps this land really was ours to possess. Yet I might never know. I thought hard to try and remember all I knew of the ancient tales.

"Wait," I turned and said to the old woman. I thought of that moment back when Moshe changed Hoshea's name. I remember wondering why he didn't just add "El" to it, as has been our custom. At one time, our ancestors had known this G"d by the name El.

"I worship the One G"d El," I said to the old woman.

"Well, I am sure there are many gods," said the woman, "but El is, indeed, the one worshipped by those buried in that place. If you are a worshipper of El, I will take you there."

She took me to a field far away from town. In the field there was a tall, old oak tree. Nearby, at the foot of a small hill, was the entrance to a small cave. Just as the stories told, there was evidence of six burials. Of all the great ancestors, only Yaakov's beloved Rakhel was buried elsewhere, said the legends. Could this truly be the resting place of Avraham, Yitzkhak, Ya'akov, Sarah, Rivka, and Leah?

"There men, and their wives are buried here, we are taught. Strangely, the man who bought this place did not bury the wife he took after his first wife died. One of the other men had two wives, but only buried one here. We do not know where the other is."

"These are truly my ancestors," I told the woman. "Everything is as it should be according to the ancient tales."

"Have you come to claim this place back?" asked the old woman.

I did not know how to answer her. For the first time in my life I truly believed that it was our destiny to come and live in this land that G"d had given to our ancestors. My entire outlook had changed.

"Not now, " I responded. "Yet, if our G"d, the G"d known to my ancestors as El, wills it, then it surely will be so."

"When you come to claim this place in the name of your god, I ask you, and ask your god to remember that there are people already living here. Treat us with kindness and mercy, and do not chase us out of our homes."

"As G"d wills," I replied.

She turned to go. "Then I will pray that you god is merciful," she replied, and walked out back into the field and disappeared from sight.

I didn't sleep well last night.

Dear Diary:

I've spent these last few days thinking about all that has happened. I know now, in my heart, that the ancient stories are true. This land was promised to us, and G"d is ready to give it to us. Of this I am certain. There may be fortified cities, and tall men, but nothing is too great for this G"d. I can't wait to get home and tell everyone.

Dear Diary:

The guys got back in town today, carrying with them this truly huge cluster of grapes on a frame. I’ve never seen grapes so big, or so many of them in one cluster. It takes two to carry it! This is truly a land flowing with milk and honey. If only the others shared my enthusiasm. They may have found some giant grapes, but it seems they have developed severe case of the frights as well. To his credit, Yehoshua keeps trying to tell them that we can take these guys, but the rest of them act like quivering cowards, and complain of the great strength of these people, and fear for their own lives. How can they doubt?

I, of course, told them of my discovery. To them, it was more like a swindle, a con game, than anything. "The old woman sure got your goat!" they said. "Probably saw the word sucker written on your forehead." "How much did you pay her?"

They just didn't get it. Yehoshua wasn't much help, although I noticed he didn't join in their chorus of derision. Later, he took me aside and asked me to tell him my whole story again. He listened intently. Finally he said, "I'm just a good military strategist - that's why Moshe picked me for this job, I suppose. I don't have Moshe's faith, but I can see how important it is to the people that they believe, and have faith in the G"d. Without that, there's no hope we could ever occupy these lands."

"What will you tell Moshe and the people when we get back?"

"The odds are against us, though not as badly as the rest of these cowards are saying. I'm not afraid of a good fight like some of them are. Yet, if we're going to be in a fight, I know the people need something to rally around, to believe in."

"So, what will you tell them, Yehoshua?" I asked. "Will you back me up."

"I don't know kid, I just don't know."

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Shabbat Shalom,

Adrian

©2008 by Adrian A. Durlester

--

Adrian A. Durlester

adrian@durlester.com

www.durlester.com

cell: 703-898-7206

Random Musings Before Shabbat - Naso 5768 G"d's Roadies

With apologies to all you "Buffy the Vampire Slayer" fans out there:

Aaron: Man, we need a roadie. Other religions have roadies.
Moses: Well, other religions know more than one G"d. Your professional religions can worship up to six, sometimes seven completely different G"ds.
Aaron: That's just, like, fruity, jazzy religions.

In this weeks parasha, Naso, we learn of the specific duties assigned to the Gershonite and Merarite clans, two specific sub-groups within the Levites. They are responsible only for  the disassembly and re-assembly of the tabernacle. In theatrical lingo, they do the "load-in" and  afterwards "strike the set." Just like real "techies" or "roadies" they just put it up and take it down - others among the Levites are responsible for the transportation of the parts of the tabernacle from place to place. Even then, they had Teamsters!

While others are transporting the tabernacle's parts, the Gershonites and Merarites simply serve to watch or guard over things. (In last week's parasha, Bamdibar, we learn that the other clan of the Levites besides the descendants of Aaron, the Kohathites, were responsible for the stuff inside the tabernacle - the altars, utensils, menorah, etc. We actually first learn of the duties of the Merarites and Gershonites in parashat Bamdibar as well, but in a more abbreviated form.)

It gets even more strictly defined than that. The Gershonites handle only the various fabric components of the tabernacle, along with the altar and its appurtenances. The Merarites are responsible for the various structural components - planks, bars, posts, sockets, pegs.

Having spent a good 25 of my life in the technical theater trade before starting to as a full-time Jewish professional, some of it even as a "roadie," I recognize and understand the division of labor. I also know how it can lead to strife, and though the Torah reports none, I can imagine there was.

The humor one finds can serve to illustrate the division that come up between carpenters, deckhands, electricians, sound engineers, et al and so between those among the Levites assigned different tasks regarding the tabernacle . I'll take some typical jokes and rephrase them, substituting  for terms like electricians, stagehands, musicians, production managers, etc.

• What do you call 20 Gershonites at the bottom of a lake? A good start.
• How many Priests does it take to change a candle? Change?
• Why do some Merarites carry 11 foot poles? Because none of the women will touch them with a 10 foot pole!
• How many Merarites and Gershonites does it take to make a sacrifice to El? "Hey, we just set it up! You wanna sacrifice, get a  Priest!"

There's also a joke well known among stagehands, roadies, and other backstage types:

Q: What's the difference between a rigger and God?
A:  God doesn't think he's a rigger.

Rewritten, it could be:
Q: What's the difference between a Priest and G"d?
A: G"d doesn't think he's a Priest!

Another thought: if we are to be a "Kingdom of Priests and a Holy Nation" then who is gonna do the hard labor? Why'd the Gershonites and Merarites get stuck being the roadies? when we become and entire nation of priests, will the Gershonites, Merarites and Kohathites become the same? If so, then who do we get to be the roadies? Some goyim?

In any case, one wonders why, once again, G"d is being such a micro-manager, instructing (at least, according to how Moses tells it) Moses to tell the various Levitical clans their specific duties regarding the assembly, disassembly and transportation of the tabernacle. It certainly seems that G"d has been very specific about a lot of things related to the tabernacle, the mishkan, the clothing of Aaron and his sons (i.e. the priests.)  I can understand some specificity regarding how things are made, but what's the difference who does what?

I'm not sure of the answer, but while searching for one, I came upon something else interesting in a piece of Hebrew found in the endcap of these verses, at the end of chapter four. We learn that the total of all the Levite clans were 8,580 (males between 30 and 50.) We read that they come to do the work of the work of the work, or more idiomatically, the work of the service of the service - l'avod avodat avodah. Just what is a "service of the service" ?

Following the interpretation of some of the rabbinical sages, the JPS renders the text "duties of service and porterage," dividing between the labors required to transport the tabernacle, and the labors required when the tabernacle was up and functioning. This is based on Ibn Ezra's interpretation which refers to an earlier description in the parasha of the Gershonite labors as being "carrying" and "serving."

A problem arises, however, for the medieval philosophers. The "carrying" part ceases to be necessary once the people have come into the land and the Temple is set up. (We modern liberal Jews might smirk and observe that maybe the whole point was that we were never intended to have a central place of worship anyway. It's a valid point just as well.)

Rashi, however, takes us off in a  different direction. Rashi believes that the "service of a service" refers to something that later became a responsibility of the Levitical clans during the times of the Temple - the shirah, or music. The music truly does "service the service." It is the accompaniment to the sacrifices. In our own time, it is the accompaniment to the sacrifices of our lips.

How appropriate, having attended the annual Hava Nasahira Songleaders Workshop last week to this week discover that the musical work I do truly is Torah, truly, "avodat avodah."

Now, if I could only have my own roadies.

Shabbat shalom,

Adrian
©2008 by Adrian A. Durlester

The original "Buffy" quote reads:
Devon: Man, we need a roadie. Other bands have roadies.
Oz: Well, other bands know more than three chords. Your professional bands can play up to six, sometimes seven completely different chords.
Devon: That's just, like, fruity jazz bands.

Random Musing Before Shabbat - Bekhukotai 5768 - Idle Idols Idyllic

In the Haftarah for parashat Bekhukotai, the prophet Jeremiah uses these well-known words:

"Can a man make gods for himself? No-gods are they!"

You would think, after all our history and experience, we would have given up on idols, idol worship, on the idea that human beings can make gods.

But, noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.  We still don't get it! we keep trying, and succeeding, in making our idols, and elevating them to high status (sometimes, even Divine status.)

What's been in the news these last few days? That is, besides the aftermath of the Myanmar/Burma cyclone, the earthquake in China, or the endless "when will Hilary finally call it quits" and "Obama's Communist ties exposed" ?

The winner of this year's "American Idol."  Imagine what's in store for him. He has already been shaped into an "idol" so turning him into god won't be far behind.  97 million votes were cast for the finale of this year's "Idol." That's more than the number of people who voted in some of the presidential years in the 1990s. (In 2004, only 122 million voted.) Even if you allow for the duplicate votes that get cast for "American Idol" that's still a pretty significant number of people who are buying into this whole idea.

Last summer, at the CAJE Conference, the organizers planned a "CAJE Idol" which, after enough objections, got sort of changed to "CAJE Rising Star" or something of that ilk. Now, I was asked to be one of the accompanists for this spectacle, which I did agree to do, and did. The selected judges, thank G"d, understood the program as more of a fun parody of the real thing, and went over the top in their impersonations of the "American Idol" judges whose personalities are continually foisted upon us. And, while the whole thing was all in fun, the whole process was frighteningly similar to the real thing, with coteries and cliques of sign-toting fans. And the attendees had the final word, getting to vote for and select the winner, their "CAJE Idol."

You could say that this was an anomaly, a liberal Jewish fete as a logical consequence of patrilineal descent, intermarriage, etc. No "real" Jew would ever engage in such tomfoolery.  However, considering the rather diverse nature of those who attend CAJE (and even those who attended each night of the "CAJE Idol" program, including the judges) I would not be so quick to attribute this failure to "get it" about idols to just the liberal streams of Judaism. (Do I need to say more than Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson z"l to make my point? Does the name "Shabbetai Tzvi" ring a bell?)
We are going to continue to suffer the indignities and horrors clearly spelled out for us in parashat Bekhukotai, and reiterated by Jeremiah in our Haftarah so long as we persist in our stubborn refusal to give up making idols.

The earth itself, is becoming one of our idols. We have worked to reshape her, refine her, tame her, until we have molded her into the image we want. This despite the constant warnings we get - hurricanes, typhoons, cyclones, earthquakes, volcanic eruptions, floods, and more - that we aren't yet in as much control as we would like to be. I'm a great fan of science fiction, and space opera, yet I am beginning to dread the prospect of our species branching out and bringing its disturbed ethics, morals, and values into the broader universe.

We are surrounded by our idols. How many of us have big, flat screen televisions? (Guilty, as charged, though only a 37 incher) We worship at the altar of petrochemicals, even as we face the prospect of a finite resource, and ridiculously high prices. We make idols of actors, sports players, singers, pundits. Some of us make idols of our countries or their flags. We made these things idols. We "voted" for them.
When will we stop? Are we so afraid that those who say "G"d is dead" are right, and that therefore no consequences await our continued idolatry? Do we simply accept that any potential Messianic Age is decades, centuries, or millennia away, so we just shrug our shoulders and say "what the heck, lets get while the getting is good"?

The first step in removing idolatry from our midst is to withhold our votes for those things we have idolized or seek to idolize. Be entertained by "American Idol" if you must, but don't buy into the premise, and don't vote. Don't participate in cults of personality. Make choices based on values, ethics, and the facts at hand. You don't need a McMansion, or a Beamer. Our cities don't need new ballparks and stadiums - they need to care for the hungry and the needy and for all their citizens.

Let's strive for an idyllic society by allowing all our idols to become idle. They won't be so idolized then. Let's stop trying to make gods. One is enough.

As the wise rabbis who assembled the siddur did, let us take the closing words of this Haftarah and change them from the singular to the plural communal form, to make our prayer:

"Heal us, O lord, and let us be* healed;
Save us, and let us be* saved;
For You are our glory."

* that's the JPS Committee's choice of translation. I find myself preferring the more traditional "and we shall be"

Shabbat Shalom,
Adrian

©2008 by Adrian A. Durlester